Where have you been?

A Return to the Riverside

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I bumped into a friend and reader of my Substack the other day and they asked me, “Hey, where have you been?”

They said they missed my work. And to be honest, I missed my writing time.

And to be more honest, I got caught up in all the reading, writing, researching, planning, posting, that I lost track of my whole goal of my work.

So I took a break.

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In the few months that have passed since my last post, we went through a lot. A scheduled surgery with a lengthy recovery. A health scare. Buying a new house. Dogs escaping the fence of said new house. Fixing said fence due to said escape. And, as you already know, fishing.

I have missed the community and the connection but as I sat to read, write, and research religious trauma, I couldn’t bring myself to write another article on the topic. I think it is incredibly important and continues to be a deeply painful reality for myself and so many others. As I listen to others talk about it, they have the moment, the steam, the gusto, the fervor to continue the work. And me, I had my plate of exhaustion. Not from the process, but from the world, circumstances, and the limits of my capacity.

I missed writing about rivers and streams and the ways I experience spirituality and wholeness in the river’s riffles. There is a deeply human excitement and dis-ease when a fish is on the line that only settles in celebration and exhale when the net has a catch.

To be more honest, an ambitious part of me (who I love) wanted to gain a little glimpse of notoriety at the cost of my truest sense of inner peace.

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So, where have I been?

In retreat and recovery from the exhaustion and stress.

Along the banks of my favorite waters with the whitefish and trout.

Wrestling my inner-knowing and mustering the courage to return.

So, where will I go?

A gentle return to the riverside under a refreshed banner (again, am I right?)

I'm calling this place Between the Banks now. Same rivers. Same stories. Same chaplain who parents, fishes, and rows a boat. Just a name that finally fits.

I’ve missed this space.

And please feel free to unsubscribe if this isn’t your vibe.

You may have subscribed wanting to learn more about religious trauma only for me to go radio silent for a few months. I am sorry. That work is important, valuable, necessary, needed, and also extends beyond what I can reasonably commit to.

With care,

Andrew.

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P.S. — If you became a paid subscriber under the religious trauma era, I'm happy to offer a refund. Just reply to this email. No questions asked.

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