The heart of storytelling used to lie with imagination. But today, we see so much that our imagination is not touched in the same way, removing our personal interpretation and a sense of intimacy from many of our shared experiences.

I remember once being visited by Persephone. “I wasn’t kidnapped, you know. I went down there of my own free will. You can’t know shit about Heaven if you don’t make peace with your own Hell.” Persephone and I still talk every time I go visit.

A review of Craig Cook’s article on ALA, and my own thoughts inspired by his work.

I am working to see myself as both ephemeral and insignificant as well as eternal and endless, an important particle of the body of God.

Today, I am not filled with the words of Rudolf Otto, or Martin Buber, or Paul Tillich, or Abraham Joshua Heschel. Today I am not preoccupied with what Kabbalah has lost to commercialism, or what I might have gained had I been able to stick it out in the Episcopal church a few months longer. Today, there is silence. It it the silence of slow waters moving themselves from one space to another.