
How Much Time Do You Have?
What happens when our past becomes too large to explain?
Less noise. More listening. Better conversations.
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What happens when our past becomes too large to explain?

A little story for my annual subscribers.

What we keep alive

The certainty that makes us stop listening may also keep us from hearing what we most need to know.

A friendship shaped by laughter, distance, and the man who taught me how to connect.

What a camera taught me about attention, trust, and living before the picture comes clear

We rarely know what another person is carrying through an ordinary day.

On delight, cynicism, and the rare people who still let the world come near

On the quiet strength of not making life harder than it already is

On listening, losing, and what it really means to be heard

On gratitude, kindness, and the small things that still mean something

What we miss when we mistake composure for peace

On friendship, grief, and the gift of being known

Twenty-one years ago, a cat walked out of the woods and into a place in my life that needed him.

On the mercy of the pause

On listening, restraint, and giving people room to find their own words

On presence, attention, and what animals keep trying to teach distracted humans

Sometimes life interrupts the writing schedule. Sometimes it has four paws, several names, and excellent manners.

On medicine, time, and the feeling of not being fully met.

How a conversation with a stranger opened a door in Hong Kong

Beyond “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” in a time like this