A summer-camp story told by a farmworker’s grandson opens into a meditation on faith, skepticism, and the miraculous.
What’s in a Dumpster?
A lyric, fragmented meditation on consumerism, homelessness, and waste, built around a single hallucinatory image.
The Longest Day in the World
A pre-dawn worship circle at a Southern California farm, and a meditation on faith, labor, and pesticide justice among farmworker families.
Praying for Justice Amidst Violence
A firsthand account of the August 2017 Charlottesville rallies, and a meditation on what it means to pursue love and justice in their aftermath.
Miracle March
It was truly a “Miracle March.” After several dry months, winter finally arrived, unleashing storm after storm upon the Sierra. For days, delicate little flakes fell from above and collected like woolen tufts atop the pines and fir. The granite walls of Yosemite Valley sparkled in the sunlight as sheets of snow swept across their […]
America’s Best Idea
The first time I set foot inside Yosemite National Park, I was hiking southbound on the Pacific Crest Trail. Despite having hiked through vast and stunning swathes of the United States, there was something spellbinding about Yosemite Wilderness. The sea of glacial valleys and granite peaks evoked frozen waves. Eons of movement and metamorphosis were […]
Zen and Art of Bus Building
The vast majority of the work is dirty, sweaty, and decidedly unglamorous. This rings true of my spiritual walk as well. While there are mountain-top moments of transcendence, they are strung together with much longer-lasting periods of absolute mundanity. The trick is to find what is mystical about the mundane. To try to find the blessings which are buried in the humdrum.
Colorado Trail: Lights and Shadows
Blistering gales of wind grated against my already frayed nerves as I gained and lost maddening amounts of elevation between 12,000-13,000 feet. I don’t usually consider wind to be an unpleasant experience but I have found that there are few sensations more vexing than relentless winds at high altitudes. Despite the winds, the San Juans Mountains north of Silverton–segments 23 and 24 of the Colorado Trail–were some of the most magnificent miles I have ever hiked.
Colorado Trail: The Peace of Wild Things
We stared at each other for an indefinite stretch of time, until finally, he turned toward the lake, and plunged into the water with a couple of powerful paces. I sat there, watching the moose bathe and swim together. I watched as the sinking sun set the mountain tops ablaze before shrinking behind a stone outcropping. The waning crescent moon followed, arching over the rocky abode of the lakes and all the creatures that dwelt there. I waited patiently as the blue veil above turned lilac, then violet, thinning until it revealed the stars. They twinkled vigorously, pleased to be released from where they glint and gleam all day in secret.
Colorado Trail: Into the San Juans!
I was poised at the edge of sleep but awake enough to discern the songs of winged insects when another sound came into my consciousness. The rasp of labored breathing, at first barely audible, gave way to the ragged gasps of respiratory distress. My senses sharpened, eyes snapping open, and I realized the noise was Matt struggling to draw breath as he lay beside me.
