rift
A tear in the fabric—where reality bends and the unexpected slips through.
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Dawn. Light. Rising.
A quiet reflection from the organ bench on the day when light begins to return. Continue reading
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Doorways. Darkness. Dawn.
In the deepening dark, a key turns—and hope finds its way in. Continue reading
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Hidden. Growing. Faithful.
A reflection on the quiet places where hope takes root and grace begins to grow. Continue reading
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Fire. Law. Arm.
A flame that does not consume, a covenant that honours difference, an arm stretched out to redeem. Continue reading
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Wisdom. Hidden. Tradition.
A cryptic note in the Prayer Book calendar whispers of O Sapientia. Without the story, it slips past unnoticed. Yet here, at Advent’s threshold, Wisdom speaks—ordering all things sweetly, inviting us to pause and learn the way of prudence. Continue reading
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Waiting. Practising. Proclaiming.
Caught between Advent’s hush and Christmas’ song, even the organ bench becomes a place of paradox—where longing and joy are rehearsed side by side. Continue reading
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Awkward. Risk. Grace.
A meditation on queer trust and divine presence, sparked by a motorbike ride in Pillion. Continue reading
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Autistic. Gay. Creative.
When I first began writing, I often wondered if my voice would ever find a home. As an autistic, gay writer, the world sometimes felt like it was asking me to shrink, to smooth out the edges of difference. Yet writing became the place where those edges could shine—where difference wasn’t something to hide, but Continue reading
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Pancakes. French. Love.
This morning began with the smell of batter sizzling on the pan, golden circles stacked high and served with a smile. Tonight, the day closed with sugared French toast, crisp at the edges and soft at the centre, made with the same care. It’s not just about the food — though it’s delicious — it’s Continue reading
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Tune. Text. Together.
A creative reversal: words become music, music becomes words. Continue reading
NeuroDivine 