The Practice Was Just the Door. What’s Inside Will Undo You.
It wasn’t just silence anymore.
It became the way I learned when to stop speaking—
especially when the easy thing was mockery.
The practices weren’t the destination.
They were the door.
And walking through meant being changed.
Breath to Bones: Recovering an Embodied, Living Faith
Faith doesn’t die all at once.
Most often, it withers under the weight of performance—when practices become obligations, when prayer becomes effort, when we measure our worth by what we do rather than who we are.
And one day, we wake up in a valley of dry bones, wondering if what once felt alive is gone for good.
"Son of man, can these bones live?" (Ezekiel 37:3)
It is not a question of possibility—it is a question of imagination.
Because faith is not something you resurrect by force.
It is something God breathes back to life.
The first breath comes before the first step.
The Body Knows: Finding God in Breath, Movement, and Presence
"I learned that the body is not an obstacle to faith but an avenue into it. That God was not waiting for me outside of my skin, but speaking within it—through sensation, through breath, through the steady rise and fall of my chest.
What if faith was always meant to be lived not just in words, not just in ideas, but in the way we breathe and move and inhabit the sacred ground of our own skin?
Because I am learning, slowly and imperfectly, that trust is not just a thought to hold but a posture to step into. That presence is not an idea but a practice. That the body is not something to overcome but something to bring fully into the presence of the Divine.
And this changes everything."