Several years ago, for no apparent reason, my writing shifted into the creation of intense personal essays, which combine my own experiences, the lives of ancient sages, and other ingredients to explore deep human issues beyond conventional wisdom. Here is a selection of them (the first three are NEW to the list as of June 2024):

• Loveys. Every weekday morning, a gray striped cat droops on the other side of our sofa. In 1886 a girl in France took over her older sister’s room. For months I have held a photo of my wife in mind. We are all doing the same thing. Published in Amethyst Review (“new writing engaging with the sacred”).
• ​Pink, but Deeper.  A brief mystical essay about my gender journey, told in colors. Published by The Citron Review. 
• Take 'em Both. ​Sometimes, when you're facing a major life decision--like which cat to bring home from the pet store--an angel may whisper in your ear. Or it could be a cabbie. Take your pick. Published in Boudin. 
• Love May Be All of This. My wife leaves clumps of hair in the shower drain. I pick them up so she doesn’t have to. I think this qualifies as love. What else does? More than I would have thought, as I learned while writing this. Published in Braided Way, whose editor was good enough to nominate the essay for the Pushcart Prize.
• ​Inside Girl. A memoir from junior high school, as told by two voices: the man I resemble to most people, and the woman who’s always lived inside me. Published in HerStry.
• You Don't Know What You Have Here. Three-year-olds are supposed to have an attention span of six minutes, maybe eight. Watching my daughter 15 minutes into whatever she was building in her sandbox, I realized I had so much more to learn about her. Published in The Sunlight Press. 
• Someone Else's Phone Call.  An offhand question, posed by a total stranger to her beloved on the pay phone two feet away, gave me the courage to keep writing. Published in Young Ravens Literary Review. ​
• How the Secrets Came Out. The girl inside me is not my darkest secret. That’s what makes her so important: the reminder that not all deep secrets are dark, and that they come out or don’t come out in their own ways. Published in Catapult along with a follow-up essay, Before There Was a Q.
• Ordinary Essay. I spent years trying to do extraordinary things, only to find myself as ordinary as the next person. As it turns out, that’s not so bad. It depends on which definition of ordinary you’re using. Published in Psaltery & Lyre.
• Wrong-Way Dog. For the first time ever—on the last walk of her life—our dog headed in the wrong direction. A brief story of the walk I’ll never forget. Published in the tiny journal.
• Mad Dash. One sunny day our four-year-old disappeared into a meadow. I couldn't imagine what possessed her to do so until 17 years later, when I did the same. Published in do geese see god. 
• Slow Zen Horse. A tiny flash essay about riding--no, trudging--through a snowy wilderness on Iceland's most reluctant horse. Published in ​The Mantelpiece. 
• Thérèse and the Friendship Creed. Some of my closest friends are dead, as in the long-gone Catholic nun who showed me that friendship is so much bigger, and more liberating, than I ever imagined. Published in Amethyst Review.
• No Thank You Necessary. How can you do something when you don’t know what it is? Many ancient traditions tout the value of gratitude, and most parents have reminded their young children to “say thank you.” But there must be more to it than mere words. This essay digs into the “more.” Published in Amethyst Review.

• Into the Arms of the One True God(s). Somewhere in the chanting of divine names—Govinda, Krishna, Ganesh, dozens of voices in a cross between music and roar—I looked around the auditorium and saw Jesus and didn’t know what to think. Published in Braided Way.