Homelessness is spiritual, but not how you think.

Divorce is an invitation to authenticity.

There’s no such thing as a leftist billionaire.

Abolition informs my parenting. And I’m an abolitionist because I’m a parent.

How reappropriating my affection for my children facilitates my own self-love.

How Indigenous values will carry us through the Trump era and beyond.

Reflections on why the US homelessness sector is quiet in a time of genocide.

Stories of how learning from getting it wrong radicalized me toward socialist politics.

A poem about ego and insecurity.

To speak of criminalization without abolition is a joke without the punchline.

How both/and thinking rescues us from stagnation in nonprofit DEI organizing.

What would it look like for philanthropy to embrace an understanding of accountability from the wisdom of transformative justice?

A reflection on a Christmas breakup.

In the final edition of the series “What is Spirituality?” I argue why it matters to have a positive understanding of spirituality and what social-justice movements stand to gain.

Part 2 of this series “What is Spirituality?” offers a humanist definition, one that acknowledges the limitations of the human experience and transcends religion and materialism.

The first of a three-part series “What is Spirituality?” this article names why ex-evangelical readers may be looking for and how it contrasts with religion and materialism.

Free liquor is the best liquor, I used to tell myself. I prefer tequila, gin, and bourbon in that order, but I’d drink the foulest of flavored vodkas if available at no cost. On this particular night, I disliked the flavor of the scotch in my glass, which had been abandoned here as an accidental housewarming gift. Not only did the taste fail to satiate me, so did the inebriation I sought. I expected the shame and physical ailment to wait until morning like usual, but for as-yet unknown reasons, I encountered the despair at night like an unwelcome Santa.

Hawaii lured my therapist from Nashville. When she told me our therapeutic relationship was about to transition to an LDR, it accelerated my decision about whether to pursue a ketamine-assisted psychotherapy (KAP) ceremony: September or bust. She recommends it for most of her clients, but I specifically stood to benefit from the prospective treatment of my depression, self-hatred, and the numerous severances within my being that once drove me to alcohol addiction. The cost and scheduling had driven my indecisiveness, but when she informed me her only available date for the three-hour session was September 14, I welcomed the serendipity: that’s my birthday.