When Mercy Steps Aside
A meditation on divine protection, destiny, and the quiet moment when mercy steps aside and leaves us to meet the consequences we have chosen.
Essays, letters and poetry — language as witness, clarity and craft.
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RSS feedA meditation on divine protection, destiny, and the quiet moment when mercy steps aside and leaves us to meet the consequences we have chosen.
A quiet meditation on the ordinary abundance—warm water, clean clothes, bread and eggs, a roof, work, and care—that hides in plain sight, and on gratitude as the ground of desire rather than its denial.
Language is not a fixed code but a living archive—shaped by etymology, environment, and attention—through which perception evolves and the world is made speakable.
“Letting go” has become the modern mantra. Yet if we relinquish all we desire, what remains to root a life? This piece argues for open-handed love—attachment, protection, loyalty—and the chosen weight of responsibility: showing up for one another, guiding and growing together. Is this not what life is about?
Kindness is not weakness or naïveté. It is strength forged through suffering, the power to harm restrained, the beauty of choice made again and again. Unlike niceness, which avoids conflict, kindness endures it—and transforms it.
If time is not a river or a dimension but only the distance between events, what then becomes of us? Is a life measured by years, or by the density of change it contains? This essay traces the haunting question of time—not to answer it, but to wander through its puzzles: the minus sign in the line element, the ghost of dt, antimatter’s supposed reversal, and the possibility of a physics without clocks. Time appears less as something we move through and more as something we ourselves measure—a spacing of events that refuses ever to be final.
Evil does not overwhelm the world, yet a single act of cruelty can feel larger than life—like a stain on a white shirt. Goodness is the quiet backdrop of daily life, but it gains meaning only when it resists. This essay explores the dichotomy of good and evil, the silence of the good, and the weight of responsibility that makes moral choice luminous.
We trust science, law, and society for their apparent rigour — but beneath the surface lie hidden assumptions and convenient fictions mistaken for certainty. This essay explores how social apriories shape our systems of knowledge, from physics and medicine to the courtroom, revealing that what feels like stone is often only scaffolding. The task is not to discard these illusions, but to see through them with humility and discernment.
Aging is not just skin deep—it is written into our very DNA. As telomeres shorten and proteins lose their shape, the body’s essential functions slowly unravel. Death is not an intruder but a quiet countdown coded within us. Yet in this inevitability lies not despair, but meaning—the chance to live fully in the time we have.
The veil between worlds grows thin—not by prophecy or permission, but by consequence. Those who follow the path it reveals do so at their peril, for what lies beyond is neither good nor evil, but something older, hungrier, and far less forgiving.
