What Seeds Do

When seeds are planted, they undergo a peculiar paradox. They die, and yet in dying they become new. They shed the shell that once protected them, and in that surrender, they release the essence they have carried quietly through time. What was hidden within them is forced to the surface. In their burial, they are not lost. In their breaking, they are not destroyed. Rather, they are embodied by the freedom that their new world provides.

The Persistence of Water

Water ordinarily should not be able to cut through rock. No, it should not. Rock is firm, stubborn, unyielding. Water is soft, gentle, without form of its own. Yet, with persistence, water does what seems impossible. Drop by drop, it carves a path through the immovable. Not in a rush, not in a show of strength, but in quiet, faithful repetition.

Mr Jailer: A Reflection on Chains We Wear

I remember standing on the parade ground during my service days, sweat breaking on my forehead as the music from the speakers kept us company. Then came Asa’s Mr Jailer. The lyrics rolled over the crowd, but what struck me most was not only what she was saying, it was the paradox hidden in plain sight: in a jail, it is not only the inmate who is locked up, the jailer is also in chains.

When Needs Shape Us

Perhaps the real measure of growth is not how many needs we have met, but how wisely we respond to the ones that remain.

The Hidden Box and the Price of Secrets

I hold a quiet belief, and I have for years: that no one ever truly gets trapped or hoodwinked without some layer of selfishness or greed sitting somewhere underneath. I still think I am right. But something shifted some years ago. Whether the change is permanent or not, I do not know. What I do know is that it began with a phone call.

We See in Part

Over the years, I have become more confident in the lessons life has taught me. I understand the value of process, the inevitability of change, and the role pain can play in shaping us. There are moments I can look back on and say, with conviction, that they made me stronger, wiser, and more aware. These are the stories we often tell, the lessons we pass on.

What I Am Learning to Let Go

I have been thinking a lot about the future, not just in terms of goals, but in terms of the kind of life I want to grow into. I want something solid, something gentle. A life that holds room for joy without guilt, and for meaning without noise. I want to build something that lasts, not necessarily in scale or visibility, but in its ability to hold people, to hold me. That is the longing.

The Castle That Was Once Mine

(Before you read this, take a moment to sit with “What the Waters Took.” This is where the tide returns.)

I did not build it.
I only found it.
But somehow, in that moment, it belonged to me.

What the Waters Took

I was walking by the beach when I stumbled on a beautifully built castle.
It was magnificent, so alluring that I could not look away.
Its charm wrapped around my heart, and for a moment, I lived in it.
Then the waters came rushing in.

The Weight of Thought

Thinkers do not always appear to be winning. 
They pause mid-sentence, circle the same idea for weeks, contradict themselves in one paragraph, and still press on.