Alchemists Journal

06/05/2026

I’m learning to pray from a Snowy Owl
braided together as we fly through the treetops of a winter forest.
Owl told me this is how he prays -
not hunting, not mating, just being with the forest,
here with everything,
a guardian of now.

The hands of the forest reach into his body as we glide,
relaxed, open.
I feel the prayer of moving, being,
held in the sky by magic.

I have to let this wonderment break me apart
so that I might walk through a forest
and feel that I’m walking in prayer,
content to be a small part of now
in the greater Being.

Tomorrow I’ll stand in my circle again
and fly with him through the forest
so that I risk being broken apart,
so I can walk through the world
like its a prayer.

06/02/2026

So many of us men can’t love ourselves enough to hear that quiet voice within,
the one that tells us where our true dignity lies,
what our deeper value is.

We’re so easily trapped by chatter about how we look,
how strong we are, how good a provider we might be,
ignoring the song we all carry inside of us,
the one that calls us home to our bodies,
and everything unfolding around and through us.

We can be as good at love as we are at fighting,
as supple as we are strong,
as vulnerable as we are certain.

But still we wander through the modern world,
chasing shadows of what a man is supposed to be
dolled out by those who have no feeling left within themselves.

If we could just trust this falling,
the moment the ground gives way,
when you don’t know what will happen next,
have the courage to tumble without hope of landing,
then we would know what it is to be truly alive
and the man would follow.

05/30/2026

It’s not easy for a young woman like her to feel like she belongs,
without a Mother, adopted, her head working the way it will,
different.

Everything is different about her.

But I know she’ll belong in the world,
because of the way she sits on a horse,
her rightful place,
a true home.

To some it must look like she’s working when she rides,
laser focus,
no missteps,
but I know she’s pumping out joy, carving a holy trail through forests,
over mesas and across beaches,
daring the world to say no to her just once,
so she can drill those mighty hooves in deep,
wiping away every cold look or closed heart
with the kick of her boots and a twitch of the reins.

When we pass a field of grazing horses
she sees a new cousin, a brother or sister,
on four legs,
waiting to meet for the first time,
and maybe ride to the edge of the day,
discover treasures that belong only to them
and those who ride like it’s the first song they ever heard.

Horses are with her when she dreams,
whether she remembers or not,
a herd that beds down in her heart,
ready to gather at dawn.

I know my daughter will belong everywhere horses run
and anywhere she can dream.

05/25/2026

If there is a letter you wanted delivered to you from someone,
filled with all the somethings you really needed to hear from them,
let this be it.

We can conjure together sentences that make you feel seen...

05/18/2026

There is too much beauty in broken things for God to love only perfection.

05/15/2026

Maybe soul is something we conjure in each other...

Maybe souls are not a given thing but something we conjure in each other,

05/12/2026

The dream that changed the way I write...

I needed to be willing to add more painful things to my stew.

05/08/2026

Fathers don't write about their sons enough...

Watch now | I have a yearning prayer that my son will find soft purchase somewhere, anywhere.

05/04/2026

I would be buried in rain hands of remaking for days if I could stand it.

05/01/2026