Year: 2025

Origins of Human Use of Fire? šŸ”„

Lately, Iā€™ve been thinking and writing about human uses and conceptions of fire in relation to liturgy, language, and ecologies. Research such as this about early uses of fire as technology (and I would include language, spirituality, and mythologies in there) has fascinated me recently as a result…

Stone age BBQ: How early humans may have preserved meat with fire:

Prof. Barkai explains, “The origins of fire use is a ‘burning’ topic among prehistory researchers around the world. It is generally agreed that by 400,000 years ago, fire use was common in domestic contextsā€”most likely for roasting meat, and perhaps also for lighting and heating.

“However, there is controversy regarding the preceding million years, and various hypotheses have been put forward to explain why early humans began using fire. In this study, we sought to explore a new perspective on the issue.”

“Not a forest, but a museum.”

You may want to sit down to read thisā€¦Ā 

ā€˜Half the tree of lifeā€™: ecologistsā€™ horror as nature reserves are emptied of insects | Insects | The Guardian:

Today, as well as being an ecologist Wagner feels he has taken on a second role ā€“ as an elegist for disappearing forms of life.

ā€œIā€™m an optimist, in the sense that I think we will build a sustainable future,ā€ Wagner says. ā€œBut itā€™s going to take 30 or 40 years, and by then, itā€™s going to be too late for a lot of the creatures that I love. I want to do what I can with my last decade to chronicle the last days for many of these creatures.ā€

Northern Mockingbird

Here’s the final part of the Northern Birds of South Carolina trilogy. I encounter the Northern Crow, Northern Cardinal, and Northern Mockingbird each day here in the piedmont of the Blue Ridge Mountains, and they always have something to teach me.

Northern Mockingbird

In the hush just before morning,
he perches above the old creek,
a plain gray cipher, alert in the fog,
summoning every sound the watershed has ever uttered.

He is the weaver of other voices:
the high whistle of the hawk,
the rattle of hub city train tracks,
the hymn fragments that once drifted from clapboard churches,
even the keening of a lost child calling for home.

Here in the Blue Ridge, they say
he was made by the Creator to keep watch,
not just to sing,
but to recall all that is spoken and unspoken,
to give shape to the inarticulate ache of mountains
who know they are ancient but cannot say so themselves.

I once thought of mockery as scorn,
the cheap imitation of what is true.
But he teaches me another meaning:
that to echo is to bear witness,
to catch the echo of what matters and make it linger,
to gather up the lost notes,
the sigh of a dying ash,
the wild laughter of children,
the whispered prayers that never found an altar.

Some say the mockingbird is a trickster,
Hermes with a Southern drawl,
but I see a priest in plain feathers,
administering the liturgy of memory,
baptizing the day with a polyphony
only he can conjure.

What is revelation but the repetition
of what we have forgotten?
Isnā€™t this the task of the faithful,
not to invent, but to remember,
to sing back the world to itself until
even God might hear it again,
and call it good?

He stands in the half-light,
not red like fire, nor black like the secret,
but a vessel for all colors,
the fullness of sound and shadow.
In his song I hear the crowā€™s wisdom,
the cardinalā€™s blaze,
and something more:
the promise that every borrowed voice
can become a prayer
when given with intention.

By dawn, I find myself singing too,
not my own song,
but fragments stitched together
from ancestors, wild earth,
and whatever holy silence
will let me listen.

The mockingbird does not mock,
he remembers.
He calls forth what the world has spoken
and lets it live again
as hope in the air
above a waking world.

Emerald Ash Borer and Spartanburg (and Us)

Lately, Iā€™ve been thinking about the remaining ash trees here in Spartanburg. These quiet giants are now gravely threatened by the emerald ash borer, a small, invasive beetle thatā€™s making its way across our county.

This beetle (first discovered in the US in Detroit in the early ’00s) burrows beneath the bark of ash trees, cutting off their lifelines. Itā€™s a slow-motion crisis, one thatā€™s easy to miss until a favorite tree starts to show signs of stress, such as leaves thinning, bark splitting, a hush settling over a place that once felt vibrant.

But this isnā€™t just about trees. In my work and study, I keep coming back to the idea that weā€™re all entangled hereā€¦ people, trees, insects, the soil under our feet. What happens to the ash tree happens to the creatures and people who live around it. Our ecosystems arenā€™t just backgrounds; theyā€™re communities, and weā€™re an integral part of them, just as they are an integral part of us.

So what do we do? For me, the first step is to pay attention. Notice whatā€™s changing in your yard, your local park, or the street where you walk your dog. Talk with your neighbors about what youā€™re seeing. And when you can, support local efforts to monitor and care for our ecosystems.

Maybe most importantly, let this be a moment for spiritual reflection and a reminder that our call to care for the earth isnā€™t just about preservation, but about love and connection. The fate of the ash tree is tied up with our own, whether we notice it or not.

Letā€™s notice. And letā€™s act with intention (not sure releasing non-native wasps is the way to go, either)…

Invasive Emerald Ash Borer attacks South Carolina ash trees:

ā€œI would argue that the Emerald Ash Borer is the most invasive forest pest of this generation,ā€ Clemson University forestry professor David Coyle said. ā€œItā€™s on the level of Chestnut blight.ā€…

ā€œWe can expect Ash to be very rare in South Carolina, as itā€™s becoming a very rare tree in most of the U.S.,ā€ Jenkins said.

Here, they often follow the rivers, which is where most Ash trees are found. That includes Lawsonā€™s Fork Creek, which flows right through the Edwin M. Griffin Nature Preserve…

ā€œThat treeā€™s doomed; thereā€™s no coming back for it,ā€ said Sam Parrott, executive director of SPACE. ā€œI think most of our mature Ash trees are toast, unfortunately.ā€

Northern Cardinal

He appears, a flash of red
against the gray-branched sorrow of late spring,
not summoned, not prayed for,
but suddenly here, as if the worldā€™s liturgy
required a single, burning presence.

His song is an ordinal, notes rising like incense
through the hush of my morning litany.
I remember how the grandfathers spoke of angels in disguise,
and how every sparrow counts,
but the cardinal is no messenger.
He is the message,
blood-bright and unapologetic
in the ruins of what I thought was ordinary.

I pause, mid-step, boots sinking into mud and leaf mold,
and let my catechism falter:
If every creature is a word of God,
what language does he speak
when he flares his crest, flings his voice
across the ravine of silence between us?

I think of the psalms,
the trees clapping their hands,
the stones crying out,
the heavens declaring, but here
on this cool fence post, it is enough
that red exists, incandescent,
in the waning light.

There is something Eucharistic about him:
how he breaks the dullness open
with his body, how he makes the sacrament
not of bread but of being,
the wild, pulsing glory
of being here,
now,
in this battered world.

I want to confess to him
my small faith,
my brittle hopes,
my longing for resurrection that comes
not as thunder, but as color
in the middle of the woods.

He cocks his head
unconcerned with theology,
yet radiating the kind of grace
that leaves a mark,
that stays in the body like a refrain.

In his departure,
I hear nothing but my own breathing,
a little steadier,
my heart echoing
some silent, ancient amen,
the red in the gray,
the promise of return,
the gospel of this world.

“creation comes from chaos”

Beautiful post from Guy Sayles here…

A Morning Walk, an Unsettled World, and a Proimise – From The Intersection:

…Both the beauty of the morning and the disturbing news are part of the ā€œreal world.ā€ I choose to trust, however falteringly, that the really real world is the world Jesus announced and enacted: a world of justice and peace, of beauty and goodness, of truth and tenderness, of love and mercy. Itā€™s possible that I am naĆÆve. It feels, instead, like I am clinging, desperately and hopefully, to a promise made sure by the resurrection: creation comes from chaos and life from death.

The more I read Plotinus as a 46-year-old PhD student, the more I want to focus on Plotinus and spiritual ecology (and meld in some Maurice Merleau-Ponty and Edith Stein).

Northern Crow

Along the margin where the asphalt fails
and wild sumac rises,
the crow walks, black-lit and watchful,
a silhouette feathered by histories I barely remember.

His eyes, polished stones, regard
the world with the patience of a thing
that has already lost so much,
that expects nothing but cold wind
and the promise of old bones beneath the leaves.

He knows the taste of Novemberā€™s first rot,
the hush of frost just before dawn
when the world holds its breath.
He forages among the offerings;
rusted keys, shattered acorns,
fragments of an unsaid prayer
left behind by children or priests.

I remember something Thomas Berry wrote,
about the necessary darkness,
how death, in the webbed roots of things,
becomes soil, becomes future,
becomes the cry of crow at daybreak.

He is not above or below me,
he is kin in the loosest sense,
stranger and prophet,
who gathers what is broken
and makes it part of his living.

Sometimes, when I walk the boundaries of my own heart,
I feel his shadow pass, a brush of wing,
a reminder that nothing is truly wasted,
not even sorrow, not even longing.

Under a sky bruised by the ache of dusk,
he lifts his voice, not as lament,
but as invitation, a way to say;
Even now, the world is not finished.
Even now, something unnamed and winged
waits to be born from what is left behind.

Be Not So Fearful

A sticker given to me by a student from my notebook, which I carry everywhere

I remember sitting in my apartment in New Haven, CT, and watching I Am Trying to Break Your Heart for the first time. I was (am) a fan of Wilco, and the documentary covering the making of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (and the remaking of Wilco in the face of all sorts of adversity) was powerful. I was a naive 23-year-old grad student at Yale Divinity and full of my own anxieties about what the future might hold and where life might lead, so this particular scene where Jeff is signing (another) record deal to get YHF released shortly after their original label dropped them because of the band’s insistence on putting out what would become the best album of the 21st Century so far seemed like a clarion call to me.

Particularly this song… what was this song, I wondered??

I wish I could go back and tell Young Sam that everything would turn out well despite life’s inevitable ups and downs and my lingering anxieties about the past, present, and future (and social situations). I tried to pass that on to my children and my students in the almost 20 years of classroom teaching as well, and hopefully those seeds will find good soil.

I didn’t give up the pursuit to find “that song” after hearing Wilco perform it live a few times and eventually tracked it down toĀ Bill Fay,Ā who composed and recorded the original version back in the early 70s. I just read this morning that Fay passed away in February of this year. That makes me sad, but also uplifted, because his music, especially this song, has touched so many of us over the years.

Those seeds found good soil in my head canon. I’ve been changing diapers for my children since 2007, and I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve sung this song to them while doing so (including this morning). I have had big moments in meetings, in the classroom, before a speech, after a business call, etc., and this song is what I’d call my mantra for centering myself when those anxieties creep in and try to steal the moment. I can’t remember preaching a sermon when I didn’t at least hum the tune while getting my robe on before service.

I’d like to think that most of us have something like this song in our lives that brings us back to ourselves in moments of fear, doubt, loathing, or anxiety. I’m not sure if it’s cognitively the best long-term fix, but it has worked for me in the last 23 years since originally hearing Tweedy strum the tune while surrounded by tired and exhausted bandmates.

Thank you, Bill Fay. Thank you, Jeff Tweedy.

Thinking Religion 172: Matthew Klippenstein

Matthew joins me again to discuss artificial intelligence, ancient constructs of aid, panpsychism, science and the humanities, and formation of religious texts.

Mentioned:

ā Panpsychismā 

Matthew Segallā 

ā The Blind Spot

https://open.spotify.com/episode/5WOgpBOrn0jdjBbOrJKkrW?si=debe90ed5df84673

More than a fingerprint on a pebble

Neanderthal Art

Fascinating and all too familiar…

More than a fingerprint on a pebble: A pigment-marked object from San LƔzaro rock-shelter in the context of Neanderthal symbolic behavior | Archaeological and Anthropological Sciences:

The pebble discovered in the San LĆ”zaro rock-shelter (Segovia, Central Spain) is the oldest known non-utilitarian object with a fingerprint made in Europe. Its morphology and the strategic position of an ocher dot, where a dermatoglyphic image has been detected, may be evidence of symbolic behavior. This object contributes to our understanding of Neanderthalsā€™ capacity for abstraction, suggesting that it could represent one of the earliest human facial symbolizations in Prehistory. All the analyses carried out suggest an intentional effort to transport and paint the pebble for non-utilitarian purposes, suggesting that it is indeed the work of Neanderthals.

On the Proliferation of Religion and AI

Fascinating thoughts here on AI, religion, and consciousness from Matt Segall (one of my professors in my PhD work on Religion, Ecology, and Spirituality at CIIS who is helping to lead the way through the pluriverse)…

“Philosophy in the Age of Technoscience: Why We Need the Humanities to Navigate AI and Consciousness”:

We might dismiss ancient religious as overly anthropocentric or indeed anthropomorphic. But I think from my point of view, we need to recognize that before we rush to transcend the human, we have to understand what we are, and all of our sciences are themselves inevitably anthropocentric.

Denominational Journeys and Paths

Eucharist

Merianna, the kids, and I decided to make the trip up the mountain to Asheville, NC on Sunday (I keep finding it astonishing that weā€™re so close to Asheville now after our move back to Spartanburg, SC, last year) for church and a family visit to our favorite local pizza place.Ā 

We worshipped with Asheville First Congregational United Church and their pastor, Rev. Dr. Kendra G. Plating. Merianna and Kendra were friends from their time together at First Baptist Greenville, as well as our Cooperative Baptist Fellowship community here in SC. Iā€™m always curious about the religious journeys that people take in and out of and through various congregations and denominations, and how those journeys shape the person and they shape those communities.

Walking alongside Merianna in her journey through seminary and then being a CBF pastor and then ultimately a pastor in the United Church of Christ was a fascinating period of development and growth, and we often talked about the ā€œhowā€™sā€ and ā€œwhyā€™sā€ of that walk over the years.

My own journey in faith is tangled in denominational and polity wanderings. Growing up as a Southern Baptist in rural South Carolina, I felt a call to ministry and that attraction to religion as a cornerstone for my life fairly early (15? 16? I wish Iā€™d written more of that down as a young person). While attending Wofford College, I realized that my denominational sentiments leaned more towards the Methodist tradition (Wofford is a Methodist college, after all). I was convinced Iā€™d end up as a Methodist minister (as a member of the Wesley Fellowship and frequent participant in campus church, the Methodist State Conference we hosted at Wofford every summer, and especially our Tuesday afternoon Chapel services). I evidently upset a girlfriendā€™s mom by making the flippant remark that ā€œmaybe Iā€™d go Catholicā€ as I was toying with the idea of ā€œhigh church” after getting to travel to Europe. I never did end up making the formal leap to Methodism. However, Methodist liturgy and hymns still play a big part in my life, and I frequently use those when leading services.Ā 

When I arrived at Yale Divinity, I wasnā€™t exactly sure what to call myself, and there was no polity class for my technical status as a still-Southern-Baptist. So, I found myself taking American Baptist courses, much to the confusion of my advisor. It was a happy accident, and I also grew to respect and cherish what I found in the American Baptist tradition (especially given the short drive to the City for Riverside Baptist Church services on MLK weekends). I graduated from Yale Div as a still-Southern-Baptist, however.

Shortly after graduating, I ended up teaching (science!) at Hammond School back in South Carolina. A colleague’s spouse was the head of a group called the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship in South Carolina. Perhaps the selling point for me was that President Jimmy Carter was also a member of the CBF and taught Sunday School in his hometown church. I began to attend services at the local CBF church in Columbia, and it felt like I had finally landed in a fellowship structure that fit me and that I fit as well. I attended Gardner-Webb University Divinity a few years later and met many good friends and colleagues who are now serving or did serve in the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship as pastors and leaders. Some of those have ventured into other denominations such as Presbyterian, Methodist, Southern Baptist, and UCC. I finally had my Baptist ordination signed (by 3 women, I might add) in 2014 and remain a member of Emmanuel Baptist Fellowship in Lexington, SC.

Now, as Merianna and I look to the next part of our joint journey and our individual paths of calling, we are discussing polity, denominational structure, and liturgy. Being that weā€™re both ordained (in two separate denominations), these talks can get tricky when we discuss the possibilities of joining a new church here in Spartanburg and what that might look like for us and especially for our children (infant baptism? blessings? open communion?).Ā 

Itā€™s fascinating (to use that word again) how telling the story of our life journeys can seem so complex and winding unless youā€™ve lived the story. In my head, teaching Physics and Physical Science for almost 20 years easily explains my PhD work in Ecology, Spirituality, and Religion. Growing up a Southern Baptist influenced by Methodism, Aquinas, Quaker polity, Dead Sea Scrolls, and Catholicism (and Rosicrucianism and more esoteric faith traditions) makes for a completely coherent path in my own mind.Ā 

Wherever this journey takes us, Iā€™ll continue to find inspiration and revelation along the path. I like to think God demands that of us who choose to listen to the still small voice of the Divine whispering in a rush of wind, in the garden, and late at night as long-haired teenagers dreaming about the future (or as grey short haired men in their late 40ā€™s telling stories and trying to understand the universe one day at a time).

Ecological Intentionality: Performing Peace Beyond Human Boundaries

Here’s a paper that I presented at this year’s American Academy of Religion, Western Region held at Arizona State University in March 2025 (Tempe is quite beautiful in March, btw!). It’s a good starting point for approaching my work and research called The Ecology of the Cross as a part of my PhD interests (and hopefully beyond)…

“This work explores the intersection of ecology and religion, theology, and phenomenology, drawing particularly on process thought, embodied consciousness, and participatory awareness via decolonization. I want to suggest that ecological intentionality offers a framework for peace that extends beyond Human interactions, challenging anthropocentric models of peace and instead envisioning peace as a relational, ecological, and more-than-human performance. Iā€™ll begin by defining this concept of ecological intentionality within a phenomenological and process-relational framework, then explore its implications for peace beyond Human boundaries through examples drawn from both ecological and spiritual contexts. Finally, Iā€™ll propose that peace, in this framework, is not simply an absence of conflict but a mode of relationality grounded in ecological reciprocity and mutual flourishing. This is part of a larger project for my PhD work that Iā€™m calling Ecology of the Cross in reverence to Edith Stein and her influential work (on me), The Science of the Cross.”

Ecological Intentionality Performing Peace Beyond Human Boundaries PresentationDownload

Conservation as Communion

Here’s a paper I’ve written on the concept of re-thinking conservation attempts in modern societies based on technocratic and market-based ideas. Conservation and human action (and inaction) is a fascinating area to ponder. As part of my wider work on The Ecology of the Cross, this is a paper that explores some of the roots of our Western concepts of “conservation” and a possible middle way in these uncertain times using fire as a case study šŸ”„šŸŒ².

Here’s the abstract:

“This paper proposes a paradigm shift in conservation, moving from technocratic and colonial frameworks toward an ethic of interspecies communion. Drawing on Juno Salazar ParreƱasā€™ critique of biopolitical care, Mara Goldmanā€™s analysis of Maasai narrative epistemologies, Barrett et al.ā€™s model of intuitive interspecies communication, and philosophical reflections from Edgar Morin, William Desmond, and the emerging field of Ecocene fire practices, the paper articulates a vision of both conservation and understandings and uses of fire rooted in reciprocity, complexity, and ontological humility. It argues that communion, not control, must ground conservation in the age of ecological disruption.”

Conservation as Communition PublicDownload

Trying Out Tapestry by Iconfactory

I’m a bit (understatement) of an old-school person regarding how I handle my newsfeeds and RSS reading. RSS is still the way forward out of the mess that siloed social media platforms have created and encouraged each with their own time-sink and attention-thirsty newsfeeds and timelines.

I started my usage (obsession?) with newsfeeds while a student at Wofford College in the late 90s, running the PointCast screensaver on the desktop in my dorm room cubicle (replacing the beloved flying toasters). It was buggy and intense on RAM usage, but I thought the concept was brilliant.

That led to me discovering early and inventive services such as Newsgator and FeedDemon (I loved that service) and the work of Dave Winer to script together the RSS protocol(s). I transitioned from FeedDemon on my Windows machines over to Bloglines sometime around 2004 as the web2.0 craze was spinning up. This felt like a magic time for the web as numerous sites were adding RSS icons, services like Writely were starting to bloom (which would go on to be acquired by Google and made into Google Docs), and people were blogging on LiveJournal or Movable Type as Geocities became abandonware. MySpace was around and beginning to infiltrate our lives, but we had things like Ze Frank’s The Show to keep us honest. I eventually found NetNewsWire (there’s a whole saga there for its history as well) as I transitioned to the Mac world after buying my first Apple Computer in 2005. Turns out, I still use NetNewsWire heavily 20 years later.

I started fiddling with a newer service called WordPress in 2003 and created my own blog (here!) that bounced between Six Apart and WordPress. Soon, the world would come to know Google Reader, and it felt like RSS was in for a whole new phase of growth and going mainstream. I’m still bitter that Google shut down Reader in 2013 and credit that with so many ills and curses that Google has seemingly had over the last 15 years of the “social web” as it would have made a great social platform (unlike Google+ and Circles and Buzz and Wave and that whole era of messes).

Then, Twitter, Facebook, and Tumblr all happened in 2006, and the writing was on the wall for the “open web” and RSS reading. People flocked to the silos. The hopes for open syndication via RSS readers in the mainstream died on the vine it seemed.

Until now, RSS reading, like dumbphones, is making a comeback with younger generations, and I’m glad to see it.

During all of those transitions, I kept using RSS readers (primarily Feedly, Feedbin, Reeder, and then back to NetNewsWire around Covid-time). I wrote a post twenty or so years ago here that RSS helped pay our mortgage each month. That’s still true. There’s magic in controlling your news and information consumption rather than relying on algorithmic data gathering services that “show you what you need to know.”

Now, I rely heavily on RSS reading for research and writing, as I work on my PhD dissertation and thoughts, along with feeds from friends’ blogs, news sites, services I use, and Substack newsletters, among others.

So, I’m a bit old-school in managing my hundreds of feeds, and NetNewsWire has been great for that as it syncs between my Mac, iPhone, and beloved iPad Mini via iCloud. My folders are neatly manicured and I try at least to get through all of my feeds at least once a day (I’m also an email and messages and inbox zero type curmudgeon… it still shocks to me to see people with thousands of emails in their inbox or hundreds of unread messages in their SMS app). As a result, I’m picky about my RSS reading and readers. I’ve tried services like the new Reeder, which brings in podcasts and YouTube videos and some social media alongside traditional blogs and RSS feeds, but I couldn’t commit and returned to NetNewsWire again and again.

I decided to give Tapestry a shot after reading about the latest update on Manton Reece’s blog (you should also check out his excellent micro.blog service if you’re looking for a great blogging platform).

Tapestry is made by Iconfactory, a company with serious street cred amongst us older web types (I loved their Twitter app Twitterific and used it heavily at the height of that now-defunct service along with their Transmit app for FTP). Tapestry is no different here in terms of thoughtful style and intentional minimalism with surprising complexity and delightful user interface.

Effectively, Tapestry combines RSS feed reading with services such as Blue Sky or Mastodon, and Reddit as well as YouTube subscriptions (I’m a heavy YouTube user, and that’s pretty well curated for me). I’m still trying to wrap my mind around seeing YouTube videos popping up in the middle of my RSS reading, but I see the value and point. I’m all about supporting the effort if we can get more people to turn back to private and person-controlled feed reading rather than algorithmic newsfeed scanning.

Is Tapestry enough to get me to switch from NetNewsWire? I’m not sure yet. But I’ll be using both the next few weeks to see where a habit or delight pops up and making note of that.

Regardless, I’m glad to see a company like Iconfactory hop into the effort!

Tapestry is available on Mac, iPad, and iPhone as a free app with a premium tier (not expensive, so the free version should be sufficient for most, especially considering current cost-cutting measures). Additionally, you can delete your Facebook and Instagram accounts for free today.

Morning Light from Merianna

Meriannaā€™s newsletter is one of the highlights of my newsfeed…

Morning Light – by Merianna Harrelson – Meriannaā€™s Substack:

This time last year, I didnā€™t know we were moving cities, changing jobs, or starting new schools for all our children. Even as I write it, it feels strange that we didnā€™t know our present reality would exist…

While our lives are being turned upside by advances in technology, changing political climate, and more powerful natural disasters, may these changes remind us to love more deeply and work more compassionately for what is good and just.

Ben’s Awards Day 2025

So proud of Sam Jr. for achieving all A’s for the year, the highest academic average, and a top iReady score in his 3rd-grade year (and a PE award!).

I was a teacher in Middle and High Schools for almost 20 years, and I’ve never been exactly fond of “awards days” for several pedagogical reasons (at least how they were carried out in the schools where I taught), though I don’t think we should diminish the hard work of young people. One of my favorite memories as a classroom teacher is getting a “talking to” by admin for having in-class awards that evidently overshadowed the main Middle School awards program later that day. But I digress (I think it’s ok to let your students see you cry in happiness over their accomplishments and accomplishments don’t always equal arbitrary or objective letter grades). Over the years, I’ve won many awards in my academic and life journey, but now I understand in my old age why some artists don’t show up for the Grammys.

Unfortunately, we still live in a “don’t smile until December” atmosphere in many schools, and our teachers are sorely underpaid and underappreciated for their tireless work, especially in our current society.

However, being a parent on the other side of the equation, and seeing the amount of hard work that Ben put into his studies and all he’s worked towards this year, gives me hope for our future.

The kids are alright. We just need to work on us adults. Be kind. Smile more. Let the Little Ones know that they are loved and cared for and are valued.

You fathers and you mothers
Be good to one another
Please try to raise your children right
Don’t let the darkness take ’em
Don’t make ’em feel forsaken
Just lead them safely to the light
When this old world has blown us under
And all the stars from fall this sky
Remember someone really loves you
We’ll live forever you and I

Got to see the Pine Warbler that’s been hanging out around our home this morning. It’s currently my favorite bird (and the Pine Grosbeak on the cover of my current Field Notes notebook is a close representation). I’m an old man šŸ‘“.

Ā