Welcome to I’ve Been Thinking…
I write about belief, empathy, work, politics, and what it actually means to stay kind and curious.
Browse by theme below, or start with the latest post.
Featured Essays
Featured
I write about belief, empathy, work, politics, and what it actually means to stay kind and curious.
Browse by theme below, or start with the latest post.
I could have started a cult.
Not the scary kind. No robes. No bunk beds. No desert property with a suspicious zoning history.
A nice cult. A modern cult. A cult with a newsletter and a merch drop.
I wouldn’t have done crimes.
I wouldn’t have isolated people from their families.
I wouldn’t have made anyone drink anything they didn’t want to drink.
But I would have been rich.
And honestly, if you’re uncomfortable with that sentence, you’re going to hate the rest of this essay.
If astrology has ever failed you, numerology confused you, or the Enneagram offended you, let sports take a crack at your identity.
Tell me if it nailed you.
Tell me if it hurt your feelings.
Tell me if I owe you an apology on behalf of the 1980 Phillies.
I can’t promise accuracy.
But I can promise personality.
And honestly?
That’s what sports gave me in the first place.
The ancient Stoics wrote books on courage, discipline, and impermanence.
What they did not do — tragically — was ask:
“Over the course of my mortal journey, will I blink more times than I breathe, or fart more times than I cry?”
Honestly, if Seneca had written that chapter, I would’ve paid a lot more attention in philosophy class.
