On nature, society, and what it means to walk a spiritual path — Ever since I was little, I’ve been looking for God. I remember wandering in the wild land behind our house, pondering connections and the elements, then running home to write down all my inspirations. I wanted to understand how it all fit together — not scientifically, but energetically. I wanted…

A short story — My grandfather still scares me, even more than my father did. Ever since I was little, his disdain for anything childish or unprofessional rendered me, then a child and, by extension, not professional at anything, inherently disdainful. …

On the awkwardness of learning a new culture — Truth is, I speak a lot more Spanish than anyone in Mexico would ever know I do. Around native speakers, my vocabulary locks in and shrivels up to consist only of perdón and gracias, with the s dropped in Puerto Rico and the c transmuted into a th in Spain…

A short story — Place It’s night right now. Whatever it is wherever you are, here, now, it’s night. I have been called many things, but you can call me Home. We begin when someone called me 12 Union Road. This was after the names Kori and Oket’oh were ripped from me, before they…

A short story — If you are reading this, my mission has failed. My only hope is that sharing the true story might still alter what comes next. But I doubt it. My name is Sen, though this is hardly important. I was — or, rather — I will be born in the autumn…

Tips for navigating this publication — After years of faithfully updating this publication with all manner of tangentially-relevant stories, I’ve decided it’s time to retire All Gods, No Masters. I began this publication to create a home for my thoughts on anarchism and spirituality (and anarchist spirituality, and spiritual anarchism), and I’m reaching a point where…

A short story — When I was young, very young, too young to understand, my grandfather dressed me in a wool suit and a bowtie and drove us to the ballet. “Art,” he said, “Is one of only three things that can completely undo a man, and if you want to get into Heaven…

I’ve got to change how (and what) I write, once more — Hello ethereal Internet friends, readers new and old, how’s it going? So, I’ve got writer’s block. I don’t really use social media, so I don’t have anywhere else to post this for people to see, hence why I write these personal updates here. I’m feeling a lot of feelings about…

A short story — Part One It takes three days to drive from Santa Monica to Madison, four if the traffic in L.A. isn’t on your side. Willa McCoy made a point to leave right at the start of morning rush hour, praying for a breakdown, asking for a crash, some sign to prove this had…