13 posts with this tag.
A eulogy for two kinds of loss: those who die and those who become simply elsewhere. Filtered through Didion, Barthes, C.S. Lewis, and Pema Chödrön. On ambiguous grief, the names written down so they don't disappear, and the sixteen-year-old who already knew that love stems out from verbs.
We have the first human photograph of Earth from space in 54 years, and I can't help but meditate on what it means to be human on a fragile planet in 2026.
A few minutes before I begin writing this, I woke up into an anxiety attack. There are a lot of issues I could be writing about, the world is fraught with uncertain violence. This is a story about me, and also a story about North Darfur and Kansas and Haiti and India. I ask this: whose suffering gets reported? Whose death counts behind glass?
My personal exploration of schizoid personality disorder and neurodivergence. From King Crimson's prophetic song to global youth withdrawal phenomena, I examine what it means to live with a rich interior life and limited social needs, challenging pathologizing frameworks and questioning whether 'poor outcomes' are about the condition or the metrics.
Cet article de blogue est écrit en français. This blog post is written in French. Apprendre le français, le deuil et les limites de la vie — un exercice en vulnérabilité linguistique.
Turning thirty during a breakup while the world unravels. Meditating on the 12,000 generations of homo sapiens that came before us, and what it means to be embodied in this particular moment of deep time.
How the inevitability of oblivion can be a source of relief, while also examining our sacred duty to make things better in the present moment through persistent, stubborn action in the direction of care.
CONTENT WARNING: Suicide | A matter-of-fact memoir about the endurance of loss, where Li considers grief to be regarded as having an end-point, as though there could be a finite amount felt when both of your only children choose death instead of life.
But You Must Allow Yourself to Be Annoyed and Practice the Radical Work of Staying
I was wrong about artificial intelligence. It’s actually so, so much worse.
I watched BoJack Horseman from when it premiered in 2014 when I was seventeen up to when it ended. I have grown up with BoJack.
Standing in a Calgary parking lot after my final exam, I trace the journey from high school dropout to university graduate—examining impostor syndrome, the weight of academic achievement, and the realization that education doesn't always provide the answers we seek.
A poetic exploration of writing as sacred geometry, weaving together themes of Indigenous identity, queer experience, mental health, and the revolutionary act of telling our own stories