“Between languages lie oceans of silence.” —Milorad Pavić
Welcome!
Gather No Moss is a growing body of essays, meandering between philosophy, criticism, current affairs, pop culture, art, and memory. There is no neat “niche” or brand, because we write, as Virginia Woolf would have it, not with the fingers but with the whole person—and whole personhood rarely conforms to a clear brand identity.
Writing for me is both a reflection and a conversation; a pursuit of clarity and of discovery. A chance to pluralize my own point of view, and to invite others along for the journey.
In slightly more words
Eclectic as they are, the topics I most often turn to here include language and myth, aesthetics, place, consciousness, ethics, and being lost and found in translation.
It might sound abstract, but in today’s world few things deserve more attention than understanding how we relate to ourselves, other people, and the natural environment; why we believe what we believe; and what assumptions, be they conscious or not, inform our worldviews and values. And all of these things are rooted in our use of language, in our common narratives (be they historical or mythic), in our ways of conceptualizing mind and being, in our modes of communication.
In recent years, a decidedly anti-intellectual strain permeated public discourse. Some go as far as to say that doing philosophy at a time when the world is figuratively and literally on fire is somehow immoral; I strongly disagree. If nothing else, the only way out of the morass of polarizing identity politics and package-deal ethics is to hone critical thinking skills, to foster healthy debate, to carefully examine a variety of views, and to allow some room for changing one’s mind.
These essays, in part, are exercises in practical philosophy. A course of slowing down, focusing, and diving more deeply than the average media-fare makes room for. My overarching approach, however, is oriented more broadly to myth than to philosophy proper. Myths are truths that trade not in facts but in meaning, in powerful beliefs and concepts that evade easy capture—who we are, why we’re here, what is real, what is sacred, what is evil. Lately, it seems many of our common narratives are ridden with fault lines. They need repair, or a total gut job. The chaos of it is distressing, but it can also be an opportunity. Just because the world is a mess, it doesn’t mean there’s no path forward. What better opportunity to vet, or forge, the narratives that will carry us through than at a point of breakdown?
On this note, I should say that I am an irrational sort of optimist, one who believes that hope is most necessary when it doesn’t make sense to be hopeful. The doomers are loud, sure, but it only takes a little reflection to recognize that there is abundant beauty and wisdom in the world—and that we can choose to foreground it, to our collective benefit. That is, ultimately, what I try to do here.
Nuts & bolts
Because one cannot really rush creative work, there is no set publishing schedule; the pace is meant to be leisurely and thoughtful, not obsessive and frenetic.
On average, I aim for a monthly (ish) longer essay or think-piece, occasionally interspersed with shorter, more impressionistic pieces. If you are keen not to miss any of it and would like to have these irregularly-published writings directly in your inbox, you can subscribe using this friendly button:
For now, all posts are free and public.
Paid subscriptions, though currently not carrying any perks, help support the independent writing and scholarship that fuel this publication. They also enable me to dedicate more time to this effort, making it feasible for me to offer some member-only content, such as focused reading groups, a book club, or other community features in the future.
2025 update: I have taken a long break from writing since mid-2024, when my daughter was born. It’s been a wild ride since then—rewarding, humbling, exhausting, and transformative, all at once. Gather No Moss will resume a more regular publishing schedule in the last quarter of 2025, or early 2026.
In the meantime, I would love to hear your thoughts about my thoughts, if you’d like to share them. Or, you can share this publication with a friend who you think might enjoy it!
This writing is for anyone who is interested in the intersection of philosophy and daily life; after all, philosophy without practical application is barren, and life without reflection is meaningless. Taken together, however, one might actually get something closer to art than either philosophy or life alone can offer.
About Me
I hold a PhD in the Study of Religion (University of Toronto, 2021), with a focus on South Asian and transnational traditions. When I am not writing on Substack, I am mostly writing elsewhere—officially, I am editing my overlong dissertation into a publishable, sleek monograph, but also, procrastinating on that editing by writing things that may or may not become books in other genres.
Outside of writing, I am a compulsive taker of pictures—my own effort at documenting the floating world. These days I mostly use my phone, more rarely—my trusted Nikon. This visceral need to photograph, which has been driving batty my travel companions ever since ten-year-old me was first gifted a soap-box film camera, at last had come in handy in illustrating this newsletter. Which is to say, the photography used here is mine, unless stated otherwise.
Also, I wrote a kind of introductory post, here.
If you are curious about my academic work, you can check out my page on Academia, here.
You can also follow me on Instagram, if you want. I’ve been inactive lately, but if you do, there will likely be photos of streets and trees and swans, when I can get them.
