A Journey Built on the Gifts of a Father to a Son For most of you who know me—through my books, through this Substack, through the worlds I write and dream into being—there’s an entire part of my life you’ve only glimpsed in passing, if at all. It’s the part that began long before I ever wrote my first novel. Long before I understood the creation of story. An early lesson came from a broom, a floor, and a father determined to teach me how to live. Back when I was a child swee

THE WIZARD OF HOPE: THE ALASKAN ADVENTURES OF PERCY HOPE The early reviews for The Wizard of Hope: The Alaskan Adventures of Percy Hope  are beginning to arrive, and I’m deeply moved by the excitement and insight readers are bringing to this story. Returning to Alaska’s rugged frontier through Percy’s eyes—where mystery, destiny, and the unforgiving wilderness converge—has sparked powerful reflections among those who’ve journeyed with him. This novel, steeped in the real hist

A Father’s Reflection on Birth, Death, and the Soul’s Long Journey Home Today is my son's birthday. He would be 37 years old. Every year, this date rises like a tide—soft at first, then full, then overwhelming. It is a day that still belongs to the living, a day with cake, photos, and memories of his first breath. But now it also belongs to the soul world, where he has traveled these past years. In the time after his passing, I found myself searching for a language wide enoug

NOW AVAILABLE! Alaska, 1915. A land as vast and unforgiving as it is beautiful—where fortune and ruin arrive on the same tide. At its center, a bold vision takes shape: the Alaska Railroad, a steel artery meant to unite the Territory from Seward to Fairbanks. Yet beneath this dream of progress stirs something far older and far more dangerous. When journalist Percy Hope arrives to cover the railroad’s construction for the San Francisco Examiner, he expects to find grit and glo

Love Does Not Decay. It Ascends. CRAIG STEVEN GORDON At the edge of dawn, the forest was still — not silent, but listening. The air was cold and damp, filled with the scent of leaves returning to earth. Every rustle, every faint creak of branch seemed aware, as if holding its breath for something sacred. I had come searching for my brother. Not in sorrow, but in communion — to find where his spirit had folded itself into the living world. The path had changed since I last vis

How Waldorf Education Could Redeem Gaza’s Children from a Culture of Hate Every classroom begins the same way — with a six-year-old child, eyes bright, heart open, hands eager to touch the world. Yet from that shared beginning, two paths unfold: one toward life, the other toward loss. The Light of Learning In a Waldorf classroom, morning light spills across beeswax crayons and jars of watercolor. Children speak verses in soft unison, their hands busy weaving, drawing, shaping

Love as the Last Line of Defense BROTHERS IN YOGA They came to New York not as politicians or preachers, but as witnesses. Two Israelis — one a yoga therapist who guides soldiers through the silent aftermath of war, the other a young man who escaped the Nova Music Festival massacre, later, as an IDF soldier, fought in Gaza and Lebanon, and now lives with the tremors of PTSD — stood before us and told their stories. Their presence felt like an offering: two souls who had walke

When Creation Outgrows Its Creator From Clay to Code Long before algorithms learned to speak, mystics in Prague whispered letters into clay. Under the flickering light of oil lamps, Rabbi Judah Loew ben Bezalel—the Maharal of Prague—was said to have molded a figure from the banks of the Vltava River. In prayer, he circled the clay form, chanting permutations of the Shem HaMephorash , the ineffable Name of God. The air thickened with the vibration of divine letters until somet

From the Barbarians Within When truth becomes uncomfortable, silence often follows. But silence is complicity — and Gaza’s people are paying the price. The Atrocity No One’s Protesting “Hamas stop the violence against Gaza civilians and disarm without delay.” 
— U.S. Central Command, October 15 While “Free Palestine” still echoes through city squares from New York to London, that cry feels hollow this week. Because in Gaza, the supposed liberators have turned their guns inwar