There are things I do because they are the sort of things someone like me does. I stay. I carry my share. I notice when something needs doing and, often enough, do it before anyone has to ask. These are not habits I particularly want to lose. They belong to
There are people who know how to tend a situation. They notice who has not been introduced. They move a chair before anyone has to ask. They keep an eye on the potatoes while listening to the conversation. When somebody goes quiet, they make a little more room. I know
We arrived at the cathedral early. The main tour guide was already there, preparing for the day with a folder of laminated material. We began talking about the Black Christ, which, he explained, had only turned black after the Revolution. I do not speak French, but I understand enough to
I have been trying to make a logo for the Orchard. At first, I imagined the cross-section of a pencil: a small centre held within wood, the wood given a six-sided boundary. It seemed appropriate. A pencil is an instrument for making a personal mark, and the Orchard
I met a friend I hadn’t seen for a while. He was taking his bicycle to his garden, a little patch of perhaps thirty square metres. He is more philosopher than gardener. He seems willing to let the garden have some say in what the next season will bring.
I still do not know where the Relationship Story abides. The measurable world has its vocabulary: mass, distance, force, velocity. The abstract world has its own: number, proof, equation, symmetry. But the world of relationships—the world of trust, companionship, hospitality, atmosphere, obligation, and belonging—remains more difficult to name.
Four days before the emergency, my team leader wrote me an email. The message was explicit: do not continue with the purchase order until the specifications and cost center have been provided. The entire upper management team was copied. My task was clear. Wait. Four days later, fifteen minutes before
Most of us hope for harmonious relationships. We celebrate the easy conversations, the shared laughter, the sense that we understand one another. Researchers have even suggested that flourishing relationships tend to have many more positive interactions than negative ones. At first glance, it sounds like a simple equation: the more
I thought I was planning a visit to a local distillery. The weather was forecast to be hot. My wife wondered aloud whether a city trip was really the best use of a long weekend. Perhaps, she suggested, I might simply stay closer to home. At first that felt like
Last week I sat on my balcony writing about whether a relationship had reached the point where it could no longer carry what I was asking it to carry. Some relationships deepen. Some pause. Some quietly become something else. Mutuality, I thought then, might simply be the willingness to discern
When a relationship becomes difficult, we often ask what went wrong. Is someone not trying hard enough? Has trust been broken? Should we communicate better? Should we persevere? Should we walk away? These are good questions. But lately I have found myself asking a different one. What can this relationship
There are moments when a relationship changes almost imperceptibly. Nothing dramatic has happened. No betrayal. No shouting. No obvious breach of trust. And yet something essential has shifted. For a long time I struggled to explain what that shift felt like. Then, over several conversations, a sentence appeared. It is