A few weeks ago, I asked you to compare responses from two friends, Georgia and Clarence. Let’s revisit: One day, Georgia and Clarence invite me to go jogging with them. At the meeting spot, Georgia beams with excitement and says, “Come on, let’s go!” Clarence, on the other hand, scolds: “Those shoes are all wrong. […]

Beloved, I’m sitting in my office, writing these very words that you are reading. As I don’t have a particular topic in mind, I’m just starting by writing these words. It gets the juices flowing. If the past is any guide, chances are you won’t read what I’m typing in right now. Writers refer to

I want to get away, but it feels rude—that whole workplace decorum thing. Still, I can’t shake the urge to leave. I want to go up to my first-floor classroom and leave her talking to her stupid self in the stairwell. “Everything has a silver lining,” she says, “You have to realize that, Brian.” “Please,

Imagine that I have two friends, Georgia and Clarence. One day, they invite me to go jogging with them. At the meeting spot, Georgia beams, “Come on, let’s go!” Clarence, however, scolds: “Those shoes are all wrong. You need real jogging shorts. And your socks? No support at all.” I’ll let you guess which one

“dad” “please” “sign me out” “for 4th period” The above series of texts pop onto my phone in immediate succession late Thursday afternoon as I sit in my basement home office. They are from my youngest—the one who changed her contact name in my phone to “Annie, favorite child.” She wants me to sign her

Download PDF (free) Rabbi Brian’s Notes About Mourning* – Simple Definitions – * Grief is the final stage of love. It is love with no place left to go. * – Idiosyncratic – *Don’t worry about what you think you ought to be doing. Grief is idiosyncratic—it shows up in its own way, on its

Beloved reader, Today, I’d like to reintroduce myself—because some of you are new, and for many of you, it’s been a while. And sometimes, it’s good to review. — A little over 3,000 people read this—The 77% Weekly—my 40/52 weeks-per-year spiritualigious newsletter. All but two readers receive it electronically, like you are. Two readers—James and

Beloved,   In the past few weeks, some things—things that usually don’t bother me—irked me.   Like the line at the grocery store.  It pissed me off yesterday. I usually don’t mind.   I coined the phrase “spiritual barometer” to refer to a thing that sometimes annoys and sometimes doesn’t.   My favorite example is

Most nights, for the last few months, at 7pm—the time we once banged pots and pans in appreciation of healthcare workers during COVID—I stand on my front porch and play “We Shall Overcome” on my French horn for the neighborhood to hear.   I do it to remind me about hope.   Because I know

Jane and I, engaged to be married in about six months, are driving in her small white Honda Accord. We’re going from our newly-purchased home in Los Angeles to visit her mother Betty, who is in declining health in Las Vegas.   We are on the I-5 freeway, climbing the steep, miles-long grade referred to