Reflections on a 30-day social media “fast.”
After hearing about a peer’s commitment to the present moment, I have realized that I too default to sharing about experiences with a clear distinction of “then” versus “now.” I am taking her words as an invitation to practice honesty and truth-telling in the present instead of waiting three months to write you a post about insights on my current experience.
Three lessons, three questions, and one recipe: reflections on cooking, community, and care.
About a year ago, in attempts to live simply, safely, and ethically, I decided to switch to all-natural deodorants. Here’s what I came up with.
There are those who dedicate their whole careers to helping people gain access to various resources, but there are also ways we can be stewards of access in our every day lives by sharing knowledge and information that can ease a small bit of another’s suffering. For me, it currently is sharing a code to the restroom at Whole Foods.
Is it possible, in the age of smartphones, to have healthy relationships with technology? How has excessive phone use affected our mental health?
My senior year of college, I stopped attending Mass regularly. I have not yet replaced the rituals which were such a crucial aspect in determining the essence of who I am, but I am beginning to redefine the sense of joy which was so foundational to my Mass ritual growing up. This joy was not simply elation at this thing or that, but a spiritual wellspring at the possibilities inherent in being alive.
I was excited to see Cal Newport’s recent blog post titled “Digital Minimalism and God (Or, is Social Media Undermining Religion?)” In the post, Newport remarks that he was somewhat surprised by how well received his new book Digital Minimalism has been within religious circles.
As FJVs we have spent time living in small intentional communities, which are very tightly focused on the people we share a house with. But it is surely the case that we are meant to carry the four JVC values out into our lives with us. I wonder what it means to bring our experience of intentional community out into the communities around us, into our local neighborhoods, our cities, states, and nation.
Most of the things I do on a daily basis now, I do alone: commuting, working, exercising, and eating, just to name a few. I find myself in these moments wanting to invite God to join me in the accompanying bus seat or at the dinner table. In these moments, I find God in the comfort of remembering my JV community. Their presence pervaded the minute details of my routine in Houston, and I can’t help but think of them every day.
With the growing popularity of state-changing psychedelic drugs, can we hack our way to spiritual clarity and bliss?
Released in 2018, Boy Erased and The Miseducation of Cameron Post bring major attention to Christian conversion therapy and the general repression of queerness by conservative Christian communities. In this post I discuss the ripple effects this kind of mass media representation has on people who identity as both queer and Christian, and what that might mean for FJVs working towards a better understanding of allyship within the church.
Writing letters became a ritual for slowing down, being intentional with my words, and inviting others into my experience.
I recently read Sarah E. Stevens’ essay “Care Time” in Disability Studies Quarterly, in which she reflects on how her experiences as a care partner affect her relationship to time. Stevens’ essay got me thinking about the two years I spent as a live-in assistant at L’Arche Heartland. Stevens’ description of care time strongly resonated with my experiences as a L’Arche assistant, but I also noticed some interesting points of divergence between care time and “L’Arche time.”
Have you ever tried to laugh without having a reason? I’d recommend it. Laughter has become an odd spiritual tool of sorts for me the past few years, not a defense mechanism as is often cited but, rather, a form of deep surrender to whatever situation is at hand.