HeyJaredS A Y A B L E
For the believers, the doubters, the halfway in or outers. Saying the quiet part out loud.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 13
- Latest publication
- Sep 30, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 9, 2026
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Bypassing the Labor and Calling It Art (opens the original)
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We always order the same things: cauliflower Manchurian, seasoned chicken and lamb, shrimp biryani, naan. She gets the vegetarian on offer. He always orders spice level ten. A defense tactic? No one wants to share his food. A smart defense tactic (father of six).It’s been a while since we’ve spread the feast before us and talked long over it. Life, illness, work, kids sports, life. Last night we talk long and late about new opportunities and old dreams, aging bodies and AI.No one wants to talk a
Two More Years of This (opens the original)
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Even if you start the day slowly, after you’ve told your absurd dream aloud and pet the head of your indifferent dog, even if you turn the light lamp on at eye-level for the recommended twenty minutes and drink your tea slowly, after it is no longer scalding, even if you put your shoes on because this cues your brain to engage the world, even after all that, you still come to an inbox screaming for your attention: your insurance refuses to cover a steep ER bill from over a year ago, someone want
For My Friends (opens the original)
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I find it incredibly difficult to pray for myself these days, but something I’m practicing in lieu of words is just turning my palms upward. It’s an expression of surrender, vulnerability, and a bit of acceptance, which is what prayer is, as I understand it.Anyway, I’m sharing that because if you’ve been around a hot minute, you know it’s been an incredibly difficult four months for me and my faith—which has always been a bit threadbare, but can usually be sustained by more good days than bad—is
We Can’t Hold it in Ourselves Anymore (opens the original)
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I have always thought of grief as though it were a worm, tunneling its way through whatever mass was in its way. It would come out on the other side and there was another side. The way was long and dark and sometimes so constricting it would feel close to suffocation, but there would be light and it would be good. Perhaps the worm was transformed into something else, perhaps it stayed a worm, but a stronger one. Hemingway’s words about broken places come to mind: “Afterwards, we are strong.”Yes,
Feel Like a Loose End on the Cosmic Tapestry? (opens the original)
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Early this morning I felt the bed shift as Nate rolled over and then off, and then the sound of Rilke’s front paws hitting the ground and his feet shuffling to the door. This happens every morning and I try to sleep again but the sleep is usually fitful after that point. It’s fitful before that point too but worse after.In that state of waking-sleep, I felt, as I always do in that spate of time, the absence of my girl. She would always stay.This isn’t going to be yet another post about losing Ha
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