The Joy of Grief
In the aftermath of my stepfather's passing, I explore the joy of grief - the remembered moments caught in the river of time. From a late-in-life marriage to a gentle passage through the veil, this post honors a life well-lived and the hidden paths that run West of the Moon.
A Life for Living
Grief is the only phenomenon with the power to make time stand still. In the surreal 'lull' following a father’s death, we find ourselves suspended between memories and reality. It is here we realize that life is a string of sacred moments—and that living is more than just biology.
Moments, Memories and Life after Death - Letters From Readers
A reader asked: How can I embrace a philosophy that says the material world isn't real when it's where I loved and lost my wife? The answer isn't to deny those memories, but to realize they are the most real thing about us—eternal coordinates in a consciousness that never truly ends.
The Physics of Presence: Finding Hope in the Great Continuity
In the quiet hours of grief, the world feels fractured. But if we lean into the reality of Oneness, we see that energy cannot be destroyed—it only changes form. Your loved ones haven't vanished; they have simply shifted beyond the visible spectrum into the eternal pulse of the universe.
Remembering the Departed
Can a nickname become a sign from beyond? Explore a moving story of grief, a field of red flowers, and the mystery of life after death.
Understanding Grief in the Context of Love
We define grief as the sorrow of loss, but deeper down, it is the abrupt silencing of the sensory inputs we relied on to define love. But what if life isn't just the 'meatsuit' we drive through spacetime?
Demarginalizing Death - Recommendations for Living
In the West, death is a taboo black hole we avoid at all costs. We huddle in a snug bubble of false security, ignoring the fact that our way of life is like walking on thin lava. But what if we embraced the idea that nothing is secure?
The Fragile
My friend met his death yesterday at the young age of 43. Experiences like these leave us laden with grief and questions that cannot be said out loud. But this raw emptiness serves as a reminder: our lives are like thin glass.
Re-Membering Who We Are
My friend spent decades creating an identity for someone else, only to find herself holding the remnants of a life that can no longer be hers. It makes me realize how easily we choose the path of least resistance. We must learn the art of 're-membering': the opposite of being pulled apart.
What Survives the Fire
We strive for comfort and security, relying on our culture to define what those things mean. But when our systems fail and our 'little empires' fall, we are often blindsided by the sting. What if these fires are intended as teachers, not destroyers?
