mindfulness

  • Borrowed Things

    Maybe it is just boredom that has brought me here, tired of human suffering. Not because suffering is unusual. Because it repeats itself with remarkable dedication. I sat watching people today and couldn’t decide what they were actually chasing. A better job. A bigger house. Someone else’s attention. An argument they intended to win before…

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  • There is a strange kind of silence that only writers hear. It doesn’t sound like silence at all. It sounds like an empty room where people were laughing five minutes ago. I never thought I would run out of things to say. Writers joke about writer’s block the way fishermen joke about rain. It exists.…

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  • Nobody in Briar’s Hollow ever checked the sky. Not because they couldn’t. Because they had forgotten it mattered. They woke to alarm clocks instead of birds. They stared at glowing screens instead of sunrises. They measured life by deadlines, notifications, grocery lists, and traffic lights. If the wind changed, they blamed allergies. If their mood…

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  • I knew it was coming because people kept telling me I had changed. Changed how? Nobody ever seemed to have an answer. They’d just look at me differently. Like they were studying a photograph of someone they used to know. Like I had misplaced some version of myself they wanted back. Maybe I had. I…

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  • The Lantern and the Fog

    There was a little café tucked away on a side street most people never noticed. It wasn’t famous. It wasn’t trendy. It wasn’t even particularly pretty. But people kept finding their way there. Some said it was because of the coffee. Others said it was the old brick walls covered in photographs of strangers who…

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  • There was no beginning. At least not the kind humans understand. No clocks.No calendars.No birthdays.No deadlines.No Mondays. Just endless awareness stretching in every direction like an ocean without a shoreline. And somewhere in that infinite place sat a soul preparing for departure. A nervous little spark of consciousness holding what could only be described as…

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  • Rainy days always change the world. People don’t notice it because they are busy running from it. They pull jackets over their heads. They hurry toward doorways. They retreat into coffee shops and living rooms. Windshield wipers begin their hypnotic dance. Parking lots empty. Sidewalks lose their audience. The world becomes quieter. More honest. Rain…

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  • Somewhere along the way, we started speaking to the voice in the head in the third person. Not because we lost our mind. Quite the opposite. It happened because one morning, while standing in front of the bathroom mirror brushing our teeth, the voice started talking again. You know the one. The running commentary. The…

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  • There comes a season in life when you must disappear. Not because you are broken. Not because you are angry. Not because you hate people. You disappear because the next version of yourself requires silence to be built. Most people misunderstand disappearing. They think it means isolation. Depression. Giving up. It isn’t. It’s construction. The…

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  • People think peace is soft. That is the first mistake. They imagine peace sitting on a hillside somewhere wearing flowing white robes. They imagine somebody who never gets angry. Never raises their voice. Never says no. Never stands their ground. Never bites back. That isn’t peace. That’s surrender. The older I get, the more I…

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