May 2025: Recognizing the Thread That Connects Us

What if connection isn’t something we find—but something we remember?

Hey friends,

Thank you for your patience. It’s taken me a little longer than usual to post. My computer crashed, and I’ve been working from a loaner—huge thanks to Team Gleason for stepping in. On top of that, May has been full. Kristy has been navigating all the end-of-school-year madness and made the long trek to bring Jonah home from Villanova. Now, for the first time in a while, all seven of us are under one roof again—and we’ve added one more to the mix: one of Jonah’s dear friends, who we absolutely adore, is living with us for the summer. It’s beautiful, chaotic, and full.

Have you ever had a moment where you knew—without words, without proof—that you were part of something bigger? Maybe it was standing under a sky full of stars, or holding a newborn, or hearing a song that sent chills down your spine. Maybe it was in the silence of a shared glance with someone who just got you. That feeling—the one that reminds us we are not alone—is what we’re exploring this month.

For most of my life, I thought connection had to be explained, understood, defined. But when I was diagnosed with ALS, I spent nearly every night sitting on my porch, wrestling with everything I believed. I wasn’t looking for answers—I was just trying to be. And in that stillness, I felt something I hadn’t expected: a connection deeper than words, wider than belief, bigger than any version of God I had constructed. It was everywhere. In everything. And I was a part of it.

This month, we practice noticing that thread—the one that ties us to each other, to the earth, to all that has come before and all that will follow. We’ll sit in silence, breathe deeply, and remember that belonging isn’t something we have to earn—it’s something we already are.

So let’s slow down. Let’s open our eyes. Let’s move through the world as if we are held—because we are.

Onward. Forward.

—Brian

**Meditation will come tomorrow**

love.