It began with a broken heart.
I had a pretty good life. A decent, loving family. A place at a respected university. Medical school in the capital, mind you. I felt like a god soaring through the heavens. I could see my future clearly, and it was bright.
Then, as we all know, life happened.
I failed, and the future I had imagined turned to dust before my eyes.
No one could help me. Magic, witchcraft, and the entire arsenal of esoteric arts I had spent years honing could not reverse my fall from grace. Even God Himself seemed to turn a blind eye.
Or so I thought at the time.
Spoiler alert: He didn’t.
Then again, no one else could walk my path for me. So I suppose that was fair.
In hindsight, my misfortune was not especially unique. It was one of the most natural things that can happen to a person. Sometimes it feels as though the hand of God hovers above you and gently, firmly forces you to your knees.
Not because you are bad. Not because you deserve to be punished. But because of the immense mercy of the Unseen.
Sometimes grace looks like being stopped in your tracks. Sometimes the kindest thing the universe can do is make the old road impassable.
As it turned out, I did not really want to become a psychiatrist.
I wanted to see one.
Isn’t that one of the most ridiculous things you have ever heard? A decade later, I can laugh about it too.
That does not mean everything turned out fine. Medical school left my nerves thoroughly fried. I spent years trying to put myself back together, and even now, many pieces are still missing. Perhaps some of them are gone forever.
That is all right.
Broken crayons still color, don’t they?
And with those broken crayons, I made this place.
This site is my little corner of the internet. It is part notebook, part scrapbook, part spiritual junk drawer, and part evidence that I was here. I write about God, magic, grief, beauty, strange ideas, small joys, and whatever else happens to drift through my head.
There is no grand lesson tying everything together. I am not here because I have solved life. Mostly, I am here because I am still living it.
So we can sit here for a while, surrounded by unfinished thoughts, old symbols, green pixels, postcards from people who do not exist, and whatever light happens to find us.
We might catch a glimpse of the divine.
Or we might not.
That does not matter as much as I once thought it did.
Thank you, dear stranger, for being here with me.