Ryan (It / Thou)
@bitetyson.bsky.social
Forlorn soul, resplendent in Winters Ash. Red birds escape from my wounds and return as falling snow. Weep for me my God. Weep for me
Yeah that makes sense. I have scaled back heavily but check Blue Sky occasionally for you and a couple others. Excited for Billie and Pauls Eucontamination book to hit in August!
July 14, 2025 at 4:42 PM
Yeah that makes sense. I have scaled back heavily but check Blue Sky occasionally for you and a couple others. Excited for Billie and Pauls Eucontamination book to hit in August!
Good to hear from you Charissa! Been too long!
July 14, 2025 at 12:56 PM
Good to hear from you Charissa! Been too long!
Connection is not a reward for agreeing with me.
It’s a practice —
a sacred one.
Because when we truly encounter one another,
something ancient is restored.
Something holy.
Something human.
It’s a practice —
a sacred one.
Because when we truly encounter one another,
something ancient is restored.
Something holy.
Something human.
June 27, 2025 at 12:49 AM
Connection is not a reward for agreeing with me.
It’s a practice —
a sacred one.
Because when we truly encounter one another,
something ancient is restored.
Something holy.
Something human.
It’s a practice —
a sacred one.
Because when we truly encounter one another,
something ancient is restored.
Something holy.
Something human.
So next time you’re in a room…
Or scrolling past someone’s post…
Or sitting across from a loved one…
Or on a first date…
Pause.
Notice.
There is a human being in front of you.
Not a point to debate — but a world to behold.
Or scrolling past someone’s post…
Or sitting across from a loved one…
Or on a first date…
Pause.
Notice.
There is a human being in front of you.
Not a point to debate — but a world to behold.
June 27, 2025 at 12:49 AM
So next time you’re in a room…
Or scrolling past someone’s post…
Or sitting across from a loved one…
Or on a first date…
Pause.
Notice.
There is a human being in front of you.
Not a point to debate — but a world to behold.
Or scrolling past someone’s post…
Or sitting across from a loved one…
Or on a first date…
Pause.
Notice.
There is a human being in front of you.
Not a point to debate — but a world to behold.
Martin Buber once said:
“All real living is meeting.”
And maybe this is why life feels hollow lately.
We are meeting roles, avatars, opinions —
but not each other.
We’ve forgotten how to meet.
“All real living is meeting.”
And maybe this is why life feels hollow lately.
We are meeting roles, avatars, opinions —
but not each other.
We’ve forgotten how to meet.
June 27, 2025 at 12:49 AM
Martin Buber once said:
“All real living is meeting.”
And maybe this is why life feels hollow lately.
We are meeting roles, avatars, opinions —
but not each other.
We’ve forgotten how to meet.
“All real living is meeting.”
And maybe this is why life feels hollow lately.
We are meeting roles, avatars, opinions —
but not each other.
We’ve forgotten how to meet.
Real encounter begins when I stop seeing you as a category.
Not “liberal.”
Not “conservative.”
Not “them.”
Not “other.”
But a soul, like me.
Wounded. Longing. Trying.
Carrying something sacred beneath the noise.
Not “liberal.”
Not “conservative.”
Not “them.”
Not “other.”
But a soul, like me.
Wounded. Longing. Trying.
Carrying something sacred beneath the noise.
June 27, 2025 at 12:49 AM
Real encounter begins when I stop seeing you as a category.
Not “liberal.”
Not “conservative.”
Not “them.”
Not “other.”
But a soul, like me.
Wounded. Longing. Trying.
Carrying something sacred beneath the noise.
Not “liberal.”
Not “conservative.”
Not “them.”
Not “other.”
But a soul, like me.
Wounded. Longing. Trying.
Carrying something sacred beneath the noise.
We must stop confusing connection with agreement.
True connection doesn’t require sameness.
It requires presence.
Humility.
A willingness to soften the edges of our certainty
to make room for another’s truth.
True connection doesn’t require sameness.
It requires presence.
Humility.
A willingness to soften the edges of our certainty
to make room for another’s truth.
June 27, 2025 at 12:49 AM
We must stop confusing connection with agreement.
True connection doesn’t require sameness.
It requires presence.
Humility.
A willingness to soften the edges of our certainty
to make room for another’s truth.
True connection doesn’t require sameness.
It requires presence.
Humility.
A willingness to soften the edges of our certainty
to make room for another’s truth.
What does attunement look like?
It looks like slowing down.
Like putting away the mental script.
Like listening with the intent to understand,
not to correct or convert.
It looks like silence.
Like curiosity.
Like saying:
“Tell me more.”
It looks like slowing down.
Like putting away the mental script.
Like listening with the intent to understand,
not to correct or convert.
It looks like silence.
Like curiosity.
Like saying:
“Tell me more.”
June 27, 2025 at 12:49 AM
What does attunement look like?
It looks like slowing down.
Like putting away the mental script.
Like listening with the intent to understand,
not to correct or convert.
It looks like silence.
Like curiosity.
Like saying:
“Tell me more.”
It looks like slowing down.
Like putting away the mental script.
Like listening with the intent to understand,
not to correct or convert.
It looks like silence.
Like curiosity.
Like saying:
“Tell me more.”
So how do we find our way back?
It starts here:
Connection is not something we achieve.
It’s something we attune to.
We must prepare ourselves for encounter —
or we will miss it, again and again.
It starts here:
Connection is not something we achieve.
It’s something we attune to.
We must prepare ourselves for encounter —
or we will miss it, again and again.
June 27, 2025 at 12:49 AM
So how do we find our way back?
It starts here:
Connection is not something we achieve.
It’s something we attune to.
We must prepare ourselves for encounter —
or we will miss it, again and again.
It starts here:
Connection is not something we achieve.
It’s something we attune to.
We must prepare ourselves for encounter —
or we will miss it, again and again.
And yet…
Look around.
We’ve never had more ways to talk,
but less capacity to truly encounter.
We’ve traded intimacy for performance,
listening for reacting,
presence for polarization.
We are surrounded — yet starving.
Look around.
We’ve never had more ways to talk,
but less capacity to truly encounter.
We’ve traded intimacy for performance,
listening for reacting,
presence for polarization.
We are surrounded — yet starving.
June 27, 2025 at 12:49 AM
And yet…
Look around.
We’ve never had more ways to talk,
but less capacity to truly encounter.
We’ve traded intimacy for performance,
listening for reacting,
presence for polarization.
We are surrounded — yet starving.
Look around.
We’ve never had more ways to talk,
but less capacity to truly encounter.
We’ve traded intimacy for performance,
listening for reacting,
presence for polarization.
We are surrounded — yet starving.
No matter the era, language, or belief —
we ache to be met.
Not just seen, but known.
Not just tolerated, but received.
This isn’t sentimentality.
It’s biology.
It’s soul.
To be human is to need the other.
we ache to be met.
Not just seen, but known.
Not just tolerated, but received.
This isn’t sentimentality.
It’s biology.
It’s soul.
To be human is to need the other.
June 27, 2025 at 12:49 AM
No matter the era, language, or belief —
we ache to be met.
Not just seen, but known.
Not just tolerated, but received.
This isn’t sentimentality.
It’s biology.
It’s soul.
To be human is to need the other.
we ache to be met.
Not just seen, but known.
Not just tolerated, but received.
This isn’t sentimentality.
It’s biology.
It’s soul.
To be human is to need the other.
Because to lament is to live.
To weep is to believe that there is something still worth weeping for.
“Call into my darkness, speak my name.
Gather me!”
If you are in the dark, treading alone
The silence you hear is not the absence of meaning.
It is the space where something new is forming.
/12
To weep is to believe that there is something still worth weeping for.
“Call into my darkness, speak my name.
Gather me!”
If you are in the dark, treading alone
The silence you hear is not the absence of meaning.
It is the space where something new is forming.
/12
March 29, 2025 at 5:02 PM
Because to lament is to live.
To weep is to believe that there is something still worth weeping for.
“Call into my darkness, speak my name.
Gather me!”
If you are in the dark, treading alone
The silence you hear is not the absence of meaning.
It is the space where something new is forming.
/12
To weep is to believe that there is something still worth weeping for.
“Call into my darkness, speak my name.
Gather me!”
If you are in the dark, treading alone
The silence you hear is not the absence of meaning.
It is the space where something new is forming.
/12
This is the purest, most fragile form of faith: to reach, even when you are sure no one will reach back.
VB’s ‘Lacrimosa’ is a modern psalm—
A song for those who have walked through sorrow,
For those who have wrestled with Silence,
For those who have tasted grief and still dared to cry out.
/11
VB’s ‘Lacrimosa’ is a modern psalm—
A song for those who have walked through sorrow,
For those who have wrestled with Silence,
For those who have tasted grief and still dared to cry out.
/11
March 29, 2025 at 5:02 PM
This is the purest, most fragile form of faith: to reach, even when you are sure no one will reach back.
VB’s ‘Lacrimosa’ is a modern psalm—
A song for those who have walked through sorrow,
For those who have wrestled with Silence,
For those who have tasted grief and still dared to cry out.
/11
VB’s ‘Lacrimosa’ is a modern psalm—
A song for those who have walked through sorrow,
For those who have wrestled with Silence,
For those who have tasted grief and still dared to cry out.
/11
“Hold me, hold me
I am in desperation…my groans scarce express.”
There are times when words fail.
When sorrow is not a prayer but a sound—
A groan, a gasp, a silent cry from the depths.
To need to be held, even when no arms are there.
To need to be known, even in utter isolation. /10
I am in desperation…my groans scarce express.”
There are times when words fail.
When sorrow is not a prayer but a sound—
A groan, a gasp, a silent cry from the depths.
To need to be held, even when no arms are there.
To need to be known, even in utter isolation. /10
March 29, 2025 at 5:02 PM
“Hold me, hold me
I am in desperation…my groans scarce express.”
There are times when words fail.
When sorrow is not a prayer but a sound—
A groan, a gasp, a silent cry from the depths.
To need to be held, even when no arms are there.
To need to be known, even in utter isolation. /10
I am in desperation…my groans scarce express.”
There are times when words fail.
When sorrow is not a prayer but a sound—
A groan, a gasp, a silent cry from the depths.
To need to be held, even when no arms are there.
To need to be known, even in utter isolation. /10
There is a dangerous lie in modern spirituality—That faith is about certainty.
But authentic faith?
Authentic faith is not certainty.
Authentic faith is the ability to cry out into the void—without knowing if any meaning will come.
/9
But authentic faith?
Authentic faith is not certainty.
Authentic faith is the ability to cry out into the void—without knowing if any meaning will come.
/9
March 29, 2025 at 5:02 PM
There is a dangerous lie in modern spirituality—That faith is about certainty.
But authentic faith?
Authentic faith is not certainty.
Authentic faith is the ability to cry out into the void—without knowing if any meaning will come.
/9
But authentic faith?
Authentic faith is not certainty.
Authentic faith is the ability to cry out into the void—without knowing if any meaning will come.
/9
“Where is my God, in the dull ear of night?”
This is the agony of Scorcese’s movie Silence—
Where faith is tested not by violence, but by the unbearable quiet of God.
When no miracle or answer comes.
When heaven does not intervene.
When the only sound left is your own doubt.
And yet—we call. /8
This is the agony of Scorcese’s movie Silence—
Where faith is tested not by violence, but by the unbearable quiet of God.
When no miracle or answer comes.
When heaven does not intervene.
When the only sound left is your own doubt.
And yet—we call. /8
March 29, 2025 at 5:02 PM
“Where is my God, in the dull ear of night?”
This is the agony of Scorcese’s movie Silence—
Where faith is tested not by violence, but by the unbearable quiet of God.
When no miracle or answer comes.
When heaven does not intervene.
When the only sound left is your own doubt.
And yet—we call. /8
This is the agony of Scorcese’s movie Silence—
Where faith is tested not by violence, but by the unbearable quiet of God.
When no miracle or answer comes.
When heaven does not intervene.
When the only sound left is your own doubt.
And yet—we call. /8
But there is something deeper here.
This is not just a song of suffering.
This is a song of longing. /7
This is not just a song of suffering.
This is a song of longing. /7
March 29, 2025 at 5:02 PM
But there is something deeper here.
This is not just a song of suffering.
This is a song of longing. /7
This is not just a song of suffering.
This is a song of longing. /7
We see this in the Psalms as well:
“I am worn out from groaning;
All night long I flood my bed with weeping.” (Psalm 6:6)
There is holiness in the cry of the broken.
There is truth in the lament of the forsaken.
This is what Lacrimosa understands. /6
“I am worn out from groaning;
All night long I flood my bed with weeping.” (Psalm 6:6)
There is holiness in the cry of the broken.
There is truth in the lament of the forsaken.
This is what Lacrimosa understands. /6
March 29, 2025 at 5:02 PM
We see this in the Psalms as well:
“I am worn out from groaning;
All night long I flood my bed with weeping.” (Psalm 6:6)
There is holiness in the cry of the broken.
There is truth in the lament of the forsaken.
This is what Lacrimosa understands. /6
“I am worn out from groaning;
All night long I flood my bed with weeping.” (Psalm 6:6)
There is holiness in the cry of the broken.
There is truth in the lament of the forsaken.
This is what Lacrimosa understands. /6
“I’ve been struck and I am suffering.”
This is not despair—it is testimony.
It is the raw acknowledgment of pain, of injustice, of wounds that refuse.
It is the moment when suffering is no longer buried—
But spoken into existence.
And to speak of one’s suffering is to refuse its silence. /5
This is not despair—it is testimony.
It is the raw acknowledgment of pain, of injustice, of wounds that refuse.
It is the moment when suffering is no longer buried—
But spoken into existence.
And to speak of one’s suffering is to refuse its silence. /5
March 29, 2025 at 5:02 PM
“I’ve been struck and I am suffering.”
This is not despair—it is testimony.
It is the raw acknowledgment of pain, of injustice, of wounds that refuse.
It is the moment when suffering is no longer buried—
But spoken into existence.
And to speak of one’s suffering is to refuse its silence. /5
This is not despair—it is testimony.
It is the raw acknowledgment of pain, of injustice, of wounds that refuse.
It is the moment when suffering is no longer buried—
But spoken into existence.
And to speak of one’s suffering is to refuse its silence. /5
“I tread alone…”
To tread alone is to walk the path where no one follows.
To be unseen, unheard.
To be exiled from comfort, from certainty, from belonging.
Yet—this is the path of transformation.
Because only those who tread alone reach the deepest truths. /4
To tread alone is to walk the path where no one follows.
To be unseen, unheard.
To be exiled from comfort, from certainty, from belonging.
Yet—this is the path of transformation.
Because only those who tread alone reach the deepest truths. /4
March 29, 2025 at 5:02 PM
“I tread alone…”
To tread alone is to walk the path where no one follows.
To be unseen, unheard.
To be exiled from comfort, from certainty, from belonging.
Yet—this is the path of transformation.
Because only those who tread alone reach the deepest truths. /4
To tread alone is to walk the path where no one follows.
To be unseen, unheard.
To be exiled from comfort, from certainty, from belonging.
Yet—this is the path of transformation.
Because only those who tread alone reach the deepest truths. /4
This is not the sanitized faith of comfort.
This is not the spirituality of easy answers.
This is the faith of the abandoned—
The faith of those who stand alone in the night, screaming into silence.
It is the faith of Job.
The faith of those who have lost everything—yet still call out. /3
This is not the spirituality of easy answers.
This is the faith of the abandoned—
The faith of those who stand alone in the night, screaming into silence.
It is the faith of Job.
The faith of those who have lost everything—yet still call out. /3
March 29, 2025 at 5:02 PM
This is not the sanitized faith of comfort.
This is not the spirituality of easy answers.
This is the faith of the abandoned—
The faith of those who stand alone in the night, screaming into silence.
It is the faith of Job.
The faith of those who have lost everything—yet still call out. /3
This is not the spirituality of easy answers.
This is the faith of the abandoned—
The faith of those who stand alone in the night, screaming into silence.
It is the faith of Job.
The faith of those who have lost everything—yet still call out. /3
The greatest cries of the human heart are not polite.
The Psalms of Lament were raw:
“My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”
“How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever?”
In Lacrimosa, we hear this same cry
“Where is my God, in the dull ear of night?
With tuneless voice, a requiem sung.” /2
The Psalms of Lament were raw:
“My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”
“How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever?”
In Lacrimosa, we hear this same cry
“Where is my God, in the dull ear of night?
With tuneless voice, a requiem sung.” /2
March 29, 2025 at 5:02 PM
The greatest cries of the human heart are not polite.
The Psalms of Lament were raw:
“My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”
“How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever?”
In Lacrimosa, we hear this same cry
“Where is my God, in the dull ear of night?
With tuneless voice, a requiem sung.” /2
The Psalms of Lament were raw:
“My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”
“How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever?”
In Lacrimosa, we hear this same cry
“Where is my God, in the dull ear of night?
With tuneless voice, a requiem sung.” /2