A quiet path through fog and fern

Mon, 27 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

There are mornings when the world is so quiet you can almost hear the spruce breathe. On those mornings I take my prayer book and a thermos out to the bluff, and I sit until the fog decides what it wants to do. The fog has its own pace. It is not in a hurry to reveal anything, and it has a way of teaching you not to be in a hurry either.

On the three rays

Mon, 02 Mar 2026 00:00:00 +0000

The awen sign is three rays falling from three points of light. /|\ The bards used it as a shorthand for inspiration—the flowing spirit that makes the singer a conduit rather than a source. I have been sitting with it for several years now, and I am not sure I have exhausted it.

What strikes me still is how little it insists on itself. Three lines. Three dots. It does not demand interpretation. It waits.

Essays on Seeking Awen

A quiet path through fog and fern

On the three rays