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 — Agent Mandelbrot drove down a dusty road lined with the black corpses of oaks and conifers. The ground, like the sky, was a sickly mandarin orange. To his right was a brick post holding a sign that had once read, “Welcome to Oak Grove, OR. Heart of the Oregon Gold…

The psychology behind why living right in a toxic society is so hard — I’ve had a thought banging around in my head for a long time that goes like this: Radicals are right about everything except being radical. What I mean by that is that the people most strongly critiquing our social, political and economic systems are correct in their critiques. We are…

On vengeance, pearl-clutching, and who we humanize — In the wake of the war in Gaza, I’ve noticed three dominant reactions among Americans: There are a lot of people who feel no sympathy for Palestinians. The reasoning behind that tends to go, “Palestinian victims of Israeli bombing in Gaza voted in an evil terrorist organization to rule them…

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. Add to that my childhood propensity for telling outlandish make-believe stories and crafting…

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 — 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 were…

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. …