Learning to Let Go: Wrestling with Centering Prayer

Lately I’ve been reading Open Mind, Open Heart by Thomas Keating, and I have to admit—it’s both really interesting and a little hard to wrap my head around. I keep feeling like I’m almost understanding it, but not quite. And maybe that’s okay.

Centering prayer is described as something you don’t really do, but something you consent to. That alone feels different from how I’ve always thought about prayer.

Most of my life, prayer has been active—talking, thinking, reflecting, asking. Even when I’m quiet, my mind is usually full of words. But this way of praying invites something else entirely. Less doing, more being. Less effort, more letting go.

In the book, Keating talks a lot about releasing thoughts instead of getting caught up in them. Not pushing them away or getting frustrated, but just gently returning to a sacred word. It sounds simple enough, but in reality, I’m finding it kind of difficult.

My mind really doesn’t want to be still. It jumps around constantly—planning things, replaying conversations, coming up with random thoughts I didn’t even know were there. And when I notice it happening, my instinct is to either get annoyed or try harder to “fix” it.

One thing that’s been surprisingly challenging is the idea that there isn’t really a way to measure success here. It’s not about feeling peaceful or focused or like I’ve “had a good prayer.” Even when I feel distracted the whole time, that doesn’t mean I’ve failed.

That’s a hard shift.

I’m so used to wanting to know if I’m doing something right or getting better at it. But this kind of prayer doesn’t seem to work that way. It’s more about showing up and being willing—just sitting there and consenting to God’s presence, even when I don’t feel anything happening.

Keating talks about how something deeper is going on beneath the surface, even if we can’t notice it. I think that’s where some trust comes in. Trust that the silence isn’t empty. That letting go isn’t pointless. That God is still there, even when I feel distracted or unsure.

I don’t think I fully understand that yet. But I’m starting to sense that I don’t have to.

Maybe part of this is accepting that I won’t grasp it all right away. That it’s not just something to think about, but something to slowly grow into. So for now, I’m trying to approach it with a bit more openness and a little less pressure.

Just sitting quietly for a few minutes. Picking a simple word. Letting go when I notice myself drifting. And then doing that again…and again.

If you’re exploring centering prayer too and it feels confusing or frustrating at times, you’re definitely not alone. I’m right there in it.

I may not fully understand what I’m doing—but I think I’m still showing up. And maybe that counts for more than I realize.

Resources:

Related Blog Post: Quieting Your Mind: Tips for Centering Prayer

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Workplace Health Update: Continuing the Journey

I wanted to share a brief follow-up to my earlier note regarding the allergy and sinus challenges I’ve been experiencing in my workspace.

Since my last update, I’ve continued working closely with Ohio State’s Integrated Disability Accommodation team through HR, and I’m currently on an interim remote work arrangement while we identify appropriate next steps. I’m grateful for the flexibility and support during this time as I prioritize my health.

When at the office last week, I did not observe meaningful progress on the deeper cleaning that had been discussed. I requested cleaning at the beginning of March 2026.  However, Environmental Health & Safety (EHS) has continued their assessment, and one notable finding was that the sprinkler heads were heavily coated with cobwebs and dust—conditions that require professional maintenance and reinforce the need for a more thorough environmental response.

While this process has included some setbacks, it has also reinforced the importance of speaking up, staying engaged, and trusting the process even when progress feels slow. I’m continuing to work collaboratively with HR, EHS, and Facilities toward solutions that support a safe and healthy workspace.

A verse that continues to encourage me in this season is Psalm 34:14: “Turn from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it.” For me, that has meant remaining steady, advocating with care, and continuing to pursue a healthier environment—not just for myself, but for others who share the space.

In the meantime, I'm grateful that I feel well simply being away from the dust and debris at the office.  A friend asked about my GLP1 energy levels and with the unwellness and fatigue after being at the office breathing in the dusty air, I feel so tired that I cannot really say if my energy has leveled out.  

Workplace Health Update: A Personal Note

Over the past several weeks, I’ve been navigating ongoing allergy and sinus challenges that seem connected to the indoor environment in my workspace. It’s been a learning experience—both in listening more closely to my health needs and in advocating for a healthier work setting.

I’m grateful to be working with Ohio State’s Environmental Health & Safety (EHS) team, who have conducted air quality testing to better understand the environment. I’ve also partnered with OSU Human Resources through the Integrated Disability Accommodation process to ensure I have the right support in place. In addition, Facilities has been responsive in coordinating a more thorough cleaning of the space, which I deeply appreciate.

This process has reminded me of the importance of persistence, patience, and community. As it says in Galatians 6:9, “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” That encouragement has stayed with me as I continue working through next steps.

Thankful for the collaboration across teams and hopeful for continued progress toward a healthier, more comfortable workspace for everyone.

Resources:

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Blog Post:  When the Office Makes You Sick

How Can Such a Cute Cat Have That Much Attitude?

If you live with a torbie, you’ve probably asked yourself how a cat that cute can have that much attitude. Yes, I have asking it a lot recently.

The answer is torbitude: the natural state of torbies everywhere. Torbitude is the unshakable confidence that things should be done a certain way—and the deep emotional response when they are not. Dinner will always be late. Pets will be perfect until they’re suddenly wrong. Doors being closed is a personal insult.

Torbies are extra cute, which is honestly misleading marketing. Their soft fur and speckled faces suggest sweetness, but inside is a tiny supervisor monitoring your performance. The side‑eye is strong, the opinions are stronger, and the tail tells you everything you need to know (mostly that you should stop what you’re doing).

The good news is that torbitude usually comes with intelligence, curiosity, and big feelings. These cats care. A lot. About fairness. About routine. About how you breathed near them just now. Once you accept that you are not the boss but rather enthusiastic support staff, torbitude becomes part of the charm—and living with a torbie becomes endlessly entertaining. 😼 

We love our cat Patty even with her moments of attitude!

When the Noise Gets Loud: A Quiet Truth About Social Unrest

There’s a heaviness in the air when the world feels divided.

You can sense it in conversations that end too quickly, in headlines that never seem to soften, in the way people brace themselves before speaking their truth. Social unrest doesn’t just live in the streets or on screens—it seeps into homes, relationships, and the quiet corners of our hearts.

And if you’re feeling overwhelmed by it all, you’re not alone.

Because underneath the arguments, the protests, the opinions, and the anger… there is something deeply human going on. There is pain. There is fear. There is a longing to be seen, heard, and valued.

That part often gets lost.

We’ve become so quick to defend our stance that we forget to understand someone else’s story. So quick to speak that we forget to listen. So quick to label that we forget people are more than the loudest moment we see from them.

And yet—here’s the truth that doesn’t get enough attention:

Most people aren’t fighting because they love conflict. They’re fighting because something inside them hurts.

That doesn’t excuse harm. It doesn’t justify cruelty. But it does remind us that behind every raised voice is a lived experience we may never fully understand.

Social unrest exposes cracks—but it also reveals what matters.

It shows us where trust has been broken.
Where justice feels delayed.
Where voices have gone unheard for too long.

But here’s the part that might feel uncomfortable:

We can’t heal division while feeding it.

You don’t create peace by dehumanizing someone else.
You don’t build understanding by refusing to hear anything outside your own perspective.
And you don’t move forward by pretending the problem doesn’t exist.

Real change asks more of us.

It asks us to hold tension without immediately turning it into war.
To stay curious when it would be easier to shut down.
To speak truth—but not lose compassion in the process.

Because empathy isn’t weakness. It’s discipline.

It’s choosing to remain human in moments that try to strip that away.

And maybe that’s the quiet rebellion the world actually needs right now—not louder arguments, but deeper understanding. Not performative outrage, but intentional connection. Not winning every conversation, but refusing to lose our humanity in the process.

So if everything feels loud and fractured, consider this your pause:

You don’t have to match the chaos to make an impact.

Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do…
is be the person who listens when others shout,
who seeks truth instead of victory,
and who refuses to forget that every issue involves real people.

Because at the end of the day, no movement, no message, no moment—

is worth more than our ability to still see each other as human.

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