Salvation is a vexing thing. Some people seem to find it in the familiar comfort of the shared liturgical experience, immersing themselves in those codified rituals and behaviors that promise it. Other people seem to find it where no one else is looking, in things no one else sees; private little salvations known only to them. Still other people—the majority of them, really—search all their lives for it, but don’t know where to look for it, or how to recognize it when they find it. So they drift, seeking balm for a despair they feel deeply, but cannot quite define.
The solace of mediocre water
by Chad Love - Tuesday, May 20th, 2025