Back in January, I started tracking a black walnut (juglans nigra) in our backyard as part of coursework in my PhD studies. It seems like an innocuous thing to “track” a “tree,” doesn’t it? Those are in the form of regular audio reflections and pictures I’ve collected here.
The above video is from a snippet of reflections that I put together using Google’s fascinating and important NotebookLM. If there ever was something beneficial that has come from our early explorations with AI, this is definitely one.
Turns out, the practice (ritual?) has been quite transformative for me as a human. Moving from the winter months of little growth and “change” perceptible to us to an onlsaught of green sprouts and leaves emerging day-by-day over the spring and summer to the development of seed pods to now observing the falling leaves (and seed pods) has been an experience outside of our own conceptions of time. From phenomenology to existentialism to Christian ecology, it’s been quite the journey so far.
I hope some of that transformation has in some way contributed to the story of the black walnut that I’ve shared so many insights, tears, prayers, and reflections with over the course of the year.
I’ve been beating this drum for a couple of decades now, but you shouldn’t rely on corporate entities for your personal expression. Get a blog (on a hosted server) and make your own thing on a reputable server where you can express yourself. Happy Constitution Day.
Back in 2021, I asked the folks at r/AskHistorians for a good primer on African history. One of the moderators recommended The Civilizations of Africa: A History to 1800 by Christopher Ehret. I got it from the library and took extensive notes. I regret not just buying a copy from Amazon (affiliate link) because it’s probably the reference note1 I look back at most often. A friend of mine asked me to write a review for it, and I’ve been meaning to put my thoughts together and really process these notes in a high-level way for years, so let’s go.
Breaks my heart and mind to see out-of-state developers pushing to cut even more forests out of Asheville’s downtown canopy (especially after Helene and the human and more-than-human losses). I hope this initiative linked here takes hold and works. Go spread the word if you’re interested in the great work of our ecological futures (rather than more corporate homogenized playing fields):
Approx. 40% of trees in Buncombe county were damaged or destroyed by Hurricane Helene, per AVL Watchdog. It’s more important than ever to save the trees we have left
Fascinating and needed work… imagining something similar here in the Carolinas as we begin to grapple with seasonal fires in a land that once saw large populations of megafauna such as buffalo and mammoths (not forgetting that fires are a part of the solution, not the actual problem)…
Some 30,000 years ago, Stone Age people decorated a cave, today known as Cueva de los Casares, in central Spain with pictures of mating humans (most famously), geometric shapes, and animals. The most popular carved animal is the wild horse.
Cueva de los Casares sports at least two dozen images of wild horses. Eventually, these Pleistocene-epoch horses vanished — likely slaughtered for food or domesticated. But some 10,000 years later, wild horses have again returned to central Spain — this time to help with out-of-control fires and bring economic opportunity to a struggling region.
Incredible statistic here… we are certainly harming our amphibian friends, as evidenced by countless statistics and news stories (salamanders, especially, in the Carolinas), but this reminder of the devastation humans have created and caused in terms of wetland biomes is especially shocking.
We’re still recovering from Hurricane Helene here in the Upstate of South Carolina a year later (the two homes across our street still sit vacant as a daily reminder), but I can’t imagine the human-scale destruction that another Superstorm Sandy-type event would cause the NYC / NJ region, given the lack of wetlands now…
Less than 1 percent of the quarter-million acres of freshwater wetlands that once blanketed New York City still exist. City officials have conserved some marshes, but others are on private property, including the 675-acre site where Atlantic Coast leopard frogs often breed. That land had a vast network of creeks before 1929, when the Gulf Oil Corporation started building aboveground petroleum storage tanks to receive oil from ships in the Arthur Kill strait between Staten Island and New Jersey.
We’ve been listening to a lot of Hamilton lately. Our children have been playing (and memorizing and singing) the soundtrack on repeat this summer. Merianna has a great post about our Hamilton-era here:
We might be a little late to the game, but we are definitely in our Hamilton-era. Maybe it was the trip to Washington, DC this summer or the Revolutionary War studies last year, but once we found the Hamilton soundtrack it is the only thing that can play in the car (besides the occasional Wheels on the Bus).
As we head into the cooler mornings of the Fall here in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, Merianna and I thought it might be time to actually have them watch the full production… so this morning, I pulled up the show on Disney+ and hit play. I’m no stranger to shedding a few tears in front of our kids, but I was moved at the opening song as I sat there with our family.
A great deal has happened to us personally and in our global community of humans and more-than-humans in this last decade. It struck me that I don’t think Hamilton could be made, or at least received well, today in 2025 in this “post-woke” era of defining good jeans and AI slop. Hamilton captured something real and imaginative and visceral in 2015-2016 that we seemed to have already lost, forgotten, or glossed over (and are intent on erasing).
People of color portraying our “Founding Fathers” who shed blood to carve out a nascent republic with higher ideals than the established order sparks different emotions in a country of complexity-erasure and intentional forgetting. Take the outrage of Google’s AI depicting Washington, etc. as black a few years ago or the recent hand-wringing and outcry from some of our fellow citizens (no doubt due to the constancy of manipulative coverage by certain 24-7 “news” corporations and social media actors that feed into and from outrage engines) over a corporate hedge-fund controlled restaurant changing its logo.
I also shed tears when I first watched Hamilton with our older girls a decade ago… the imagination, the pointing to and away from and towards, the use of caricutre and spittle to prove points… and now those tears come from a different place in my consciousness that I feel we are all carrying… disappointment, loss, even despair… at where this country has been led, not from the whims of “a king on a spending spree” but from oligarchs who know that the time is short and the center cannot hold:
The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity.
More tears ahead, but I hope I can continue to show our children glimpses of what can be while I rage against this machine. Lack of imagination got us “adults” into this, but imagination will get us out. Mark gives us the prescription to enter the Kingdom through the narrow Way, and as much as I stumble, I hope that we can see through this scanner even darkly and realize that we need eyes to see and ears to hear the imaginative call of grace in new ways and what can be…
People were bringing little children to him in order that he might touch them; and the disciples spoke sternly to them. But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, ‘Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.’ And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.
As part of my studies, I focus on how we as humans internalize and externalize ideas such as ecology or being or intention in general (go read some Owen Barfield if you need a primer on why words matter… start with Unancestral Voice) by looking at the past (medieval but especially ancient). I’m convinced that we’ll eventually look back on this era of classifying natural avenues of therapeautic treatments such as psilocybin as dangerous schedule-1 “drugs” and shake our heads at our naive foolishness in the same way that we wonder how ancient people could have been so “primitive” about ideas (they weren’t!) before the scientific revolution and the Enlightenment movement where so much of our current psychological crises and negative manifestations originate…
Link here is to the archived version (non-paywall):
The work suggests it might one day be possible to choose which brain connections to remodel, depending on the mental health condition that is being treated. “Our study hints at an exciting avenue for future research to combine neuromodulation with psychedelics to precisely target specific circuits for neural plasticity,” the researchers wrote in their paper.
I have very similar thoughts about our growing energy needs and utilizing the very free and abundant (and powerful) resource that is energy being produced by our own star that floods our Earth with more than enough energy potential to get us out of the capitalistic and colonialist matrix that is the fossil fuel industry… a mesh of Whitehead Schedulers powered by solar energy would do wonders to transform the daily lives of humans and more-than-humans here on Earth…
Good read and idea (and stats, espeically out of Pakistan):
So let’s start at $2.5 trillion, the number for the panels alone, because, hey, Tik Tok videos. Is that an absurd number to imagine helping to pay? The International Monetary Fund reported recently that the world spends $7 trillion a year subsidizing fossil fuel. And all it gets us is the chance to buy more fossil fuel—the last line of Jacobson’s email makes it clear that even at the full price this would be a huge bargain. You save huge amounts of money because you don’t have to pay for fuel any more. Once the panels are up, sunshine is free. It changes everything.
Not rubble, but root not the toppled arch, nor the cold stone marked by lichen and crow, but the deeper disintegration, the fall inward where sweetness becomes sediment, layered, compost of memory.
Ruin, the old word, not only decay, but rushing, the cataract, the river’s surrender to gravity and sea. So Shakespeare’s grief, the “ruin of a sweet life,” is not just the breaking, but the swift carrying away… an eddy, a flood.
And Barfield reminds: words remember what we forget. Ruin, from ruina, the collapse, yet also the running course, the onward plunge. Not merely wreckage, but motion. Not death, but migration.
So my sweet life, lived among walnut trees, between baptisms and poems, with children’s laughter, with books that smell of rain, ruin comes not as thief, but as torrent: the unmaking that remakes.
Here in this homeland, the sweet ruin of tobacco fields gives way to pine, and Cherokee memory rustles in leaves that still refuse erasure. Even the cross, that ruined tree, bears sap enough to green the nations.
Ruin is not only ending. It is the opening, the washed-out ditch through which a future grows in weeds. Sweetness is not lost, but borne away to mingle with ocean salt, to rise again in storm, to fall as rain on the waiting earth.
Certainly, he wasn’t the “first” but it is fascinating to read about ancient people who shared passions as I do, be they philosophy, religion, racing, or ancient art… patron saints are good to have in this life.
However, one of the earliest persons we know that we can call an “archaeologist” was a sixth-century BC man who lived at Nippur in Babylonia (modern-day Iraq), according to archaeologist Elizabeth Douglas Van Buren (1881-1961). He was either a collector or a curator of the university museum. This is inferred by a collection of artifacts he had in a clay vessel his house next to the library. He was a man of considerable knowledge, based on the collection of objects he kept. All the objects were specimens of the history and antiquity of his country.
Great episode from Yale’s Forum on Religion and Ecology Spotlights podcast… enjoyed the discussion of Plotinus (always!), spirituality vs religious as well as some of the background on why we do what we do in this fascinating sphere of Religion and Ecology (plus, the host Dr. Sam Mickey is also a graduate of my program at CIIS):
This episode features Rachael Petersen, a writer, thinker, and convener. We discuss her life and work at the confluence of philosophy, ecology, and transcendence. As Program Lead of Harvard’s Thinking with Plants and Fungi Initiative, Rachael guides interdisciplinary explorations into how cutting-edge plant science challenges our ideas of mind, matter, and meaning. She holds a Master of Divinity from Harvard Divinity School, where her research centered on panpsychism, pantheism, and the more-than-human world, with a special focus on German philosophy.
Merianna says what a whole lot of us (myself included) have been thinking and feeling and anxious about (particularly about our young ones after our summer travels to D.C. and NYC)…
As we watched the barricades go up and the monuments close so that a parade route could be established, I wondered what our kids would remember about our trip to Washington, DC. I hope they will remember the stories of those who fought for the silenced and the oppressed. I hope they will remember the leaders who rose up and spoke against injustice and capitalizing on the labor of others. I hope they will remember the beauty of the art and the curiosity that led to innovation.
As someone whose life’s work blends the spiritual and the ecological, I find this deeply concerning. Departments of religious studies are not just academic units… they’re vital spaces for nurturing intercultural literacy, deep critical consciousness, and ethical imagination. They help cultivate citizens who can engage thoughtfully with global and local complexities, not just through specialized knowledge, but through a broader, humanistic lens.
Given my own background from Wofford, Yale Divinity, Gardner-Webb Divinity, and now the California Institute for Integral Studies through my writing and teaching, I feel a genuine kinship with those in Oregon facing this upheaval. It strikes at the core of what it means to study religion… not as a marginal discipline, but as a way to grapple with meaning, belonging, and our shared ecological and spiritual fate.
We are writing to notify you of a looming threat to religious studies, the humanities, and tenure protections at the University of Oregon (UO). We are members of UO’s Department of Religious Studies, which is home to seven associate and full professors. Our department has served a critical role within humanities education here at UO since 1939, and in recent years has been thriving, with new faculty hires, robust course enrollments, and a steady stream of research grants, awards, and publications.
We have just learned that UO leadership plans to eliminate our department and terminate most or all of our department’s faculty. In addition, they plan to eliminate and terminate tenured faculty in at least three other humanities departments.
Interesting article… I’d add that religious orgs and churches have a meaningful role to play in helping people address climate anxieties and just being aware of ecological choices (corporate and individual)…
Other collective actions like community gardening, protesting, starting your own climate-aware group or spending more time in nature can help, according to Belanger, who’s seen patients have success with joining and leading climate cafes – online or in-person spaces where people gather to share their feelings on climate change.
“You don’t have to be a therapist to do that. It’s about holding space and that has been very helpful to them,” Belanger said.
“Greenwashing” is one of those terms that has bubbled up to the mainstream over the last few years and will only intensify as the broader global culture(s) become more attuned to the ecological realities we face in the decade ahead. Whether you’re one of the richest corporations to ever exist in human history or a church or mom-and-pop store or school, it would be wise to realize the measure the risks of claiming the high ground in environmental ethics (while also realizing the upsides and benefits of actually being moral and ethical in approaching those topics)…
Apple based its claim of carbon neutrality on a project it operates in Paraguay to offset emissions by planting eucalyptus trees on leased land.
The eucalyptus plantations have been criticised by ecologists, who claim that such monocultures harm biodiversity and require high water usage, earning them the nickname ‘green deserts.’
For nearly two decades, my work has lived at the intersection of ministry, teaching, and consulting. From the pulpit to the classroom to boardrooms and coffee shops, I’ve found myself in spaces where the central question is always the same: how do we tell our story in a way that is authentic, transformative, and faithful?
Now, as I continue my doctoral work in Ecology, Spirituality, and Religion at the California Institute of Integral Studies, that question has taken on new urgency. The story we tell as people of faith is not only about our relationship to God and neighbor—it is also about our relationship to the more-than-human world that sustains us.
MinistriesLab was born out of the recognition that many churches and religious organizations feel the tension of our ecological moment but aren’t sure how to respond. Climate change, biodiversity loss, and the unraveling of ecosystems aren’t abstract scientific headlines, but rather they are spiritual questions, theological challenges, and pastoral realities.
Too often, churches either avoid ecological conversations because they feel “too political,” or they silo them into one-off “green team” projects. But the truth is this: our spirituality is already ecological. Every sermon, every communion table, every baptism, every hymn, every prayer is situated within a world alive with God’s presence.
My research in integral ecology and what I call the Ecology of the Cross has convinced me that the church’s voice matters profoundly here. Congregations have the capacity to help people see differently and to recover the rooted wisdom of scripture and tradition, and to step into hopeful, place-based practices of care and connection.
What I’m Offering
Through MinistriesLab, I’m bringing together my background in marketing and digital consulting, my years of ministry and teaching, and my ongoing academic work in ecological theology.
Here’s what that looks like in practice:
Consulting: Helping churches and ministries tell their stories more clearly online and in person, with strategies that are both practical and faithful.
Speaking: Preaching, teaching, and leading workshops on the intersections of faith, ecology, and communication.
Place-Based Practices: Offering insights and guidance for congregations to engage their specific local ecosystems, whether through worship, education, or community practices that deepen spiritual awareness of place.
A Theological and Practical Invitation
The church has always been at its best when it helps people see the world with new eyes. From the prophets to Jesus’ parables to Hildegard of Bingen’s viriditas (the greening power of God), our tradition is rich with ecological wisdom. What we need now is the courage to embody it in this time and place.
That’s the heart of MinistriesLab: to equip and encourage faith communities to embrace an ecological spirituality that is both approachable and transformative.
If your congregation or organization is ready to step more fully into that work, whether through a consultation, a speaking engagement, or exploring new practices together, I’d love to start a conversation.
James Bridle’s book Ways of Being is a fascinating and enlightening read. If you’re interested in ecology, AI, intelligence, and consciousness (or any combination of those), I highly recommend it.
There is only nature, in all its eternal flowering, creating microprocessors and datacentres and satellites just as it produced oceans, trees, magpies, oil and us. Nature is imagination itself. Let us not re-imagine it, then, but begin to imagine anew, with nature as our co-conspirator: our partner, our comrade and our guide.
New here? Start with these pieces that sketch what I mean by “Ecology of the Cross.”
What is the Ecology of the Cross?
An overview paper that lays out the integral ecology of the cross and why kenosis + ecological intentionality matter.
Process Ecology of the Cross
A deeper dive into communion, kenosis, fire, and planetary politics through a process-relational lens.
Why Edith Stein matters here
How The Science of the Cross became the metaphysical and spiritual backbone of this whole project.
