This is not a travelogue, though my travels will give it a structure of sorts. It’s not a journal, but I’m apparently unable to write strict observation. I guarantee no cohesiveness, grammar, logic, structure or usable information. Rather I’ll selfishly write only what I feel moved to write as we go. 

Most often, I am captured by a tiny snapshot of a thought, a window into a line of wondering that I end up following to nowhere in particular. I’m drawn to simple things that are secretly incredible — for example, everything.

What I will promise: I won’t write every day, and what I write will stay relatively short. An avalanche of things we’re meant to read buries all of us each day, so please believe me that you absolutely will not offend me if you don’t read a single word of any of this (except you, Mom. You have to read all of it and love it). But if you find a few minutes and decide you’d like to come along, I’d love to have your company.