Skip to main content

Orientation 2

Naikan In Four Movements

This four-part Naikan series grew out of a course I offered at Baltimore Dharma Group in Spring 2025. While Naikan is often framed as a tool for self-reflection, I came to see it as something more relational: not a system of correction, but a practice of returning—again and again—to what holds us, what flows through us, what we leave behind, and what we remain with.
READ MORE

Orientation 3

Threadwork

Here, in language, is the closest I have come to tracing the patterns I live inside — and the patterns I see others living inside, too. ...That, to me, is the heart of this offering: not to win empathy through performance, but to make coherence inhabitable — even when the pattern isn't matched. These pieces are not arguments. They do not aim to persuade. They exist to demonstrate — without explanation. To resonate — without claiming universality. To name the cost of asymmetry — without blaming the other. To hold clarity — without self-erasure.
READ MORE

Orientation 4

Holding Vow Sutra: An Introduction

Introduction and Intention:  This is a sutra, but not a sutra in the traditional sense. It is not part of the Buddhist canon, nor is it offered from a seat of transmission or formal authority. It is, rather, a thread — woven from lived practice, shaped by fidelity, and rooted in a vow that did not begin with me and does not end with me.
READ MORE

Featured

The Autistic Mode: A Way Of Thinking

We all have moments of deep concentration—those times when we are so absorbed in something that the world recedes. A musician practicing alone, refining a passage with exquisite focus. A philosopher turning an argument over in their mind, testing its weight from every angle. A scientist working through the layers of an equation, adjusting variables, refining the logic until it holds. In these moments, the noise of the world fades, and what remains is a kind of clarity, a steady presence of thought moving toward resolution.

Featured

Threshold to Threadwork

Introduction: There are two doors into this work. The one below meets the moment. It is written in accessible language—for those seeking clarity about autistic experience, and especially about how it differs in rhythm, in structure, and in the invisible labor it asks of those who must translate themselves to be understood. But this isn’t the only way in. There is another door—quieter, less translated, more interior. If you're looking not just for insight, but for shape—if you’ve ever sensed that what goes unspoken is sometimes the most coherent thing there is—you may find yourself at home there.
READ MORE

Featured

Musings from the Meta-Verse: Tip of the Iceberg Cosmologies

Before you begin: please take a moment, settle in, enjoy the image above—of me holding my baby daughter as a first-time dad, tune into the frequency of restful wonder. Now allow your mind to wander outward from the edges of that image: to the room, to the street outside, to the vast sky beyond the vast sky. Further—past the solar system, past the galaxy’s edge, past everything known—to the edge of the cosmos. And then…

Featured

Woven

I never stopped making art. I just didn’t always call it that. What I made with you, my loves — in those days we shared — was the most embodied form of relational creation. Art was us — there was no interruption. Something Luu Li and and I talked about yesterday landed deeply. She said, “Wow Papa, 54 years! I'm so glad you’re starting to do art again.” And I told her — honestly — it’s never left me. But after that, I found myself thinking: when I was homeschooling Luu Li and CT, I wasn’t just not doing art — I was expressing my creativity through my life with them.
Labels

First Breath: Sadness, Marriage, Children

I wrote this when I was twenty-one: when life felt immediate, unstoppable, and sadness, marriage, and children were new frontiers, not destinations.
The breath was already there, but it moved harder, faster, like standing barefoot on sun-heated sand.

Sadness, Marriage, Children

Sadness
He was sad. He felt like he might be sad for many years more. As though this moment of sadness contained, also, his anticipation; and if he climbed into this sadness, and took one step across it, if he leapt into space, he would fly for the first time. And endings should be this way, with happiness in one’s eyes, opened to the pink light of morning, passion upon descent; and brains and teeth, whose chattering on the sidewalk, makes accompaniment to wind sounds brushing across his hair.
Marriage
Strong-willed enough She does not want To marry.
Children
Would take him to new regions of the overpopulated plains, with spiraled stalks of buffalo chips dotting the sides of the road; and circumnavigating deep canyons, tracts of stucco houses, deeper stillness, further still like this night “on the lone prairie” We have been married for three years; diving
still into plates of oysters with a very dry Chablis.
We have been married for twenty years or more;
the glasses with long encrusted water spots are in the cupboard
if you want them.
The breath lived first here, and stands later At the Bridge: In the Field of Redibility ⧉ .
For orientation beyond this page, you may enter through:
•The Vibrating Thread: From the Field of Redibility
•Naikan in Four Movements
•Threadwork (or begin with  Threshold to Threadwork ⧉  for a gentler entry)
•The Holding Vow Sutra (drawn from the arc of  Naikan: The Rhythm of Vow ⧉ , but arriving later)
← View all in “Here Nor There” ← Previous "At the Bridge: In the Field of Redibility" Next "The Vibrating Thread"→
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment