Category: Humanism

It's Wednesday!

Fruits of Our Labors

It’s Wednesday!

It’s also the Fall Equinox. Since last month, I’ve been following A Humanist Year, a project that attempts to create a liturgical calendar based in humanist principles, so as to foster mindfulness and meaning-making. In the Humanist Year, the week of the Fall Equinox is the Fall Festival, which marks the end of the Season on Flourishing.

The Fall Festival is described as an opportunity to recognize all we’ve accomplished and celebrate the fruits of our labor. So this week, I figured I’d go with that theme!

What did you achieve lately, and how did you achieve it? What difficulties did you overcome?

As always, head to the comments to post your answer! That’s where you’ll find me.

What's Your Story?

What’s Your Story? Vol. 1 (2009)

This post is part of a series on the various ways I've used pen and paper in my life. To learn more about it, check out the introduction, or view the "ink and paper brain" category for other posts.

Around the end of high school, I discovered the philosophy of humanism, and man, did I love it. Carpe diem! Be ashes, not dust! We’re all the heroes of our own stories! If there had been such a thing as a humanism fan club, I would have been its president and head cheerleader.

What’s Your Story? was a project from those days of hyper-enthusiastic humanism. The idea was to make a traveling journal that contained strangers’ stories—whatever people wanted to share. I’d write my own, then set the journal free in a coffee shop, casting it off into the wilds without any expectation of seeing it again.

I still like the idea, but as you can see, in six years, I still haven’t let it loose.

Traveling Without a Map

Blogathon Post #6: Traveling Without a Map

Throughout the month of August, I'm aiming to write 25 blog posts. This is post #6 of 25. Find them all in the "blogathon 2014" category.

The other night,  after cleaning up the dinner dishes, R and I went to the ale house around the corner for a beer. The evening air was gentle, a welcome change from Walla Walla’s oppressive summer heat, so we took our beers out to the patio and sat.

“What will it take,” R asked me teasingly, “to convince you to go live with me in another country for a year?”

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