Brilliant. Wounded. Becoming.
The monk, the cell, and the cat.
For me, the monk represents the part of my soul that still seeks silence, prayer, study, and meaning. The cell is not a prison, but a sacred room — the quiet place where healing, thought, and becoming happen. And the cat? The cat is holy mischief: comfort, curiosity, and a reminder that even the most serious spiritual life needs a little sass.
Brilliant. Wounded. Becoming.
If I had to describe what The Scholar’s Dark Night of the Soul says about me in three words, it would be those.
Brilliant — because my mind has always tried to stitch together theology, literature, art, disability, education, humor, and holy mischief into meaning.
Wounded — because I do not pretend the road has been easy. Amputation, illness, grief, uncertainty, and spiritual darkness have all had their say.
But most of all: Becoming.
Not finished. Not defeated. Not frozen in suffering. Still moving toward grace, vocation, beauty, healing, and morning.
That, I think, is the heart of the blog: the story of a man who has been broken, yes, but not erased. A scholar, a pilgrim, a patient, a preacher, a slightly dramatic Episcopalian with a fondness for Dante, Woolf, and stubborn resurrection.
Read more here:
https://www.scholarsdn.com/blog
