Why Am I Here?

It started innocuously enough. I was at a family gathering, and the conversation had drifted to my aunt being in the choir. She asked if I liked to sing. Despite the fact that I do enjoy singing, maybe too much, and have been in choirs before, I deflected. "Not really," I said, brushing off what should have been an easy yes.

Somehow the conversation meandered to reading, and my aunt mentioned how much she'd appreciated my old blog posts. "You were always so thoughtful," she said.

That comment stuck with me in the days that followed. Thoughtful. Was I still that person? Would she still think so if she could see how much my perspectives have shifted in the nearly ten years since I last published anything?

Maybe it's time to find out

I used to blog regularly about religion and politics: two topics that are always guaranteed to bring people together, right? (The sarcasm is intentional.) My posts reflected whatever I happened to be thinking about at the time, filtered through the lens of someone who had clearer answers to life's big questions. Somehow time has diminished that clarity, leaving me with more questions than answers.

A lot has changed since then. I've been through what many call "deconstruction"... the often painful process of deeply examining beliefs I once held as unshakeable truth and finding them... wanting. My political engagement has shifted too, not in terms of caring less about the world, but in stepping back from the daily outrage cycle that seemed to consume so much energy without producing much light.

So why am I here? Why pick up the pen again after all this time?

That question, "Why am I here," is deliciously layered. As it pertains to this blog, it's about why I'm returning to writing, why I think I have anything worth saying after years of relative silence. But underneath, it's one of the fundamental questions that religion offers one answer for. What's my purpose? What's the point of any of this?

The difference is, I'm no longer satisfied with the Sunday School or pre-supposed answers

This blog is going to be my attempt to wrestle with that question, and others, in real time, without the safety net of predetermined conclusions. I want to continue to explore religion and philosophy through the lens of someone who's done the hard work of deconstruction and has been trying to build something authentic from what remains. I'll probably touch on political topics too, though I'm less interested in daily commentary than in examining the bigger themes that shape how we live together in our increasingly crowded world.

But most importantly, I want to talk about real-life stuff. The messy, uncomfortable parts of existence that we typically sanitize out of polite conversation. I want to occasionally dive into what it's like Living with depression as a man in a culture that too often expects us to suffer in silence. Perhaps we can explore the complexity of relationships when you're no longer the person you used to be. We could even meander into the strange territory of middle age when youthful certainty has crumbled but you're still responsible for making sense of things.

I don't know if my aunt will still find me thoughtful after reading what comes next. My perspectives have shifted in ways that might surprise or even disappoint people who knew me then and that might think that's still who I am.

But maybe thoughtfulness isn't about having the right answers

Maybe it's about being willing to ask the hard questions and sit with the discomfort of not knowing.

So here I am, "picking up my pen," again. Not because I have it all figured out, but precisely because I don't. In a world that rewards certainty and punishes doubt, maybe there's value in creating a space for honest uncertainty.

Why am I here? I'm still working on that answer. But I'm hoping that by writing through the question, something true might emerge—something more authentic than the neat packages I used to offer.

Welcome to this new journey (Oh boy, even that feels kind of cliche). I have no idea where we're going, but I'm grateful if you're willing to come along.