Some truly scattered, rambling reflections about the past year on a hopefully snowy Christmas Eve.

What Moe—an old man on his deathbed in South Brooklyn—taught me about life's more quotidian moments.

On the best holiday of the year, some words about the things I'm just so thankful for. Lists of trees, a quick mention of The Beatles, late night breakfast tacos, and a jaunt through rainy New York.

A random gathering of thoughts and stories and quotes and characters, all discussing sound and silence and the infinite combination of both that the world is made of.

These are some of the things I've been loving the most recently: stars, Charlotte's Web, a list of books, and a few sentences from an essay I read called Flow.

There's a few things here: a couple of poems, some Nietzsche, Kahlil Gibran, Alexander von Humboldt, Bach, and more. All here to talk help me explain why the interconnectedness of things -- the things that exist outside us and between us -- are MAGICAL.

Three gods and a prayer: what these classically religious words mean to me.

On the day of this magical eclipse, what Sherlock Holmes has taught me about creating and celebrating idle moments.

What Winnie the Pooh and T.S. Spivet taught me about un-mappable moments.

Bridges, bridges, bridges. And Victor Hugo. And more about Greece. And why all of this is my favorite.

A longer bit about what truly unfurling yourself might mean. With some help from Edgar Allan Poe, a 50K, Freedom Riders, and a recent collection of short stories.

How Madame Bovary, John Cage, and Mary Oliver make me think about the lovely spaces between moments.

What Gus (from Lonesome Dove), the Little Prince, and Sherlock Holmes teach us about hellos, goodbyes, and some of life's most shaping moments.

Any list of literature's most brilliant characters would be entirely unfinished without Albus Dumbledore on it. This particular line from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is pinned to my wall, and it's what I want everyone to see first as they meet this newer version of Little Hunches. It's been about a year in the making, but Dumbledore's words work just as well for me right now as they did for Harry back then. It is time to step out.

What Bruce Springsteen, Dumbledore, Mary Oliver and George Saunders have to say about it.

Sometimes words are beautiful, their closeness an art we take for granted. Here's why these "Q" words are the best best best.

And when the Han is struck, the reverberations send out both sound and word, combining to create something that neither could on its own.

Through the eyes of Paul Simon, Janis Joplin, Yo-Yo Ma, and Mary Oliver.

What walking around a city can teach about the interconnectedness of everything.

Or, as Mark Strand wrote: "This countryside through which we walk, is no less beautiful for being entirely as it seems."

What writers write about rain and rivers and lakes.

What an old woman taught me on an early morning drive to the airport.

Imagine if we could get excited about something the way van Gogh was about cypress trees. 

I wrote this when I left Austin, my home of 10 years. And why I think we should all be comfortable saying goodbye, taking some fragments along and leaving others behind.