Words are receipts

Listen to what people talk about. Vision talks about worlds. Small talk talks about who. The size of someone’s dreams leaks out in their sentences. Are they one of greatness or trivial pettiness? Words are the receipt. The soul already paid the bill....

Untried isn’t the same as unloved

I used to think “do what you love” was permission. Now I think it’s often an excuse. I didn’t love coaching until I tried it scared. I didn’t love writing until I forced myself onto the page. Comfort wears love’s clothes well. If I...

Believing in the wrong voice too long

I’ve caught myself doing it mid-conversation. Someone pays me a compliment, genuine, specific, and I’m already building the rebuttal in my head before they’ve finished the sentence. That’s not humility. I used to think it was. It’s just a...

The color of enough

There is a shade of blue that does something to me. Not a specific blue I could name or point to in a Pantone chart. It is more a quality of blue. The ocean on a calm morning before anyone else has arrived. The sky in that particular hour between late afternoon and...

The bread that cannot be rushed

Thursday evening I start the dough process. Not because I have to. Because something in me needs to. There is a particular ritual to sourdough that I have come to understand is about far more than bread. You begin with a living starter. Genuinely alive. Fed and tended...