Forgive me at the outset. I like puns. Years ago, my best friend’s mother would say they were the lowest form of humor. We disagreed. A good pun, if it holds, does more than play with words. It carries two meanings at once and lets them
Humility in later life is often misunderstood as a lowering of oneself. In practice, it is closer to making room—an openness that allows something beyond our own certainty to enter. It does not draw attention to itself. But without it, a life can begin to narrow. Traditions
What success can hide—and what keeps a life open There is a particular risk that comes with success. Not failure. Not struggle. Success. When things go well long enough, something begins to change. People listen more closely. They defer. They assume you know what you’re doing—not
Theodore Roosevelt was anything but cautious. He moved quickly, took on fights others avoided, and usually came out ahead. When challenged, he pushed back harder. He had already been president. Still, it wasn’t enough. After his tenure in the White House, he sought a new challenge. Roosevelt found it
Renewal in later life is often spoken of as a beginning again. A fresh start. A return. But for many who have lived through loss or change, renewal does not arrive that way. It doesn’t restore what was. It doesn’t return things to their former place. And
Retirement is supposed to bring relief. More time. Fewer demands. A different pace. And for many, it does. But after a while, something else becomes noticeable. The day is no longer organized for you. It is less clear where you are needed. The answer to “What do you do?” takes a
Last week we reflected on katabasis—the descent. The Greeks paired that word with another: anabasis, a going up. Not a return to the way things were, but a movement into something that follows. After a difficult stretch of life, there are times when a person begins
A man who stayed. A woman who traveled. What their lives ask of us. Last Sunday, we reflected on a man who spent nearly his entire life on the land where he was born. Lloyd Russell Hammons didn’t leave when others did. He didn’t stay to
The reflection we shared on Sunday—10,000 Ways—spoke of something easy to overlook: that a community is not made of sameness, but of differences, embraced with care. Ten thousand readers does not mean one voice multiplied. It means ten thousand lives—each shaped by particular joys, losses, questions,
Last Sunday’s reflection on The Four Agreements began with the first agreement: Be impeccable with your word. It’s a familiar phrase. But once we sit with it, the emphasis shifts. The question is no longer simply what we say, but how carefully we speak—especially when words
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