What is a Good Life? #135

Longing, Belonging, and Matrimony with Stephen Jenkinson

Aug 12, 2025

Exploring Presence - A workshop in Berlin

This September, I’m co-hosting an in-person workshop in Berlin with Johnnie Moore, where we’ll dive into the theme of presence through a range of experiences and conversations.

Click here to learn more — early bird tickets are available until August 15th.

This Week’s Podcast

On the 135th episode of the What is a Good Life? podcast, I’m delighted to welcome our guest, Stephen Jenkinson. Stephen is a cultural worker, teacher, author, and ceremonialist. He is the creator and principal instructor of the Orphan Wisdom School, founded in 2010. He has master’s degrees from Harvard University (theology) and the University of Toronto (social work). He’s the author of Come of Age, the award-winning Die Wise, Money and the Soul’s Desires, and Reckoning (with Kimberly Ann Johnson). His latest book, Matrimony, invites readers to contemplate the significance of matrimony, ceremony, and cultural articulation—and how to redeem them for future generations.

In this rich conversation, Stephen explores profound questions about life, love, and the nature of existence. We delve into the essence of ceremonies, particularly in matrimony, emphasising the need for meaningful endings and the responsibilities we hold towards future generations.

The discussion weaves fate, ancestry, humility, and the call to “proceed as if you’re needed” into a meditation on how we might live fully inhabited lives.

The weekly clip from the podcast (4 mins), my weekly reflection (3 mins), the full podcast (59 mins), and the weekly questions all follow below.

1. Weekly Clip From The Podcast

2. My Weekly Reflection

I was on a boat ride around Berlin yesterday, invited by a couple of visitors in town.

It wasn’t overcrowded, with ample space to sit, on seats that you would find at an outdoor restaurant.

It was for one hour around a landmark-filled stretch of the Spree River in Berlin.

The ride was extremely smooth; the drinks on the table in front of us never budged.

The weather was exquisite in the late evening sun.

Even the voice of the tour guide had a cadence and tone, both in German and English, that just let the experience amble along.

I was with a friend (and his daughter) with whom the conversation is never rushed—no sense of a silence ever being awkward, no obligation to fill gaps.

I found the whole experience deeply relaxing.

The boat ride left on the minute it was due to leave and arrived back one minute early.

When the boat docked, I stood up and stretched my arms to the sky as the large family in front of me, at the front of the boat, gathered their things.

There were three generations in the group, from a toddler to a grandmother.

We were next in line.

Given there were only 25 people on the boat, I was surprised to feel the couple behind me almost pressing up against my back, seemingly encouraging me to navigate my way through some non-existent gaps in front of me.

I was in no mood to rush, so I just stood there.

Afterwards, when we were off the boat, I mentioned something I have noticed on planes for the last few years.

I asked, since when could we not simply take it for granted that everyone on the plane would automatically wait for the row in front of them to clear before advancing further towards the exit?

We laughed at the utter absurdity of attempting to inch your way down the aisle and having to completely stop two metres ahead.

Virtually no time saved, all for the cost of courtesy, for some arbitrary sense of progress.

It sums up much of how I view the pace of modern life—a rush to nowhere in particular, a rush to what end?

As the three of us meandered around Berlin in the hopes of finding a park my friend didn’t know the name of, but wanted to find once more without the aid of technology, it was clear to me the meandering and the conversation along the way was the point.

Laughing at him being lost.

His victorious defiant fist upon finding it.

I sense more and more we miss this in life.

We designate certain activities or destinations as where life really is, and yet in reality we are more constantly arriving, becoming even.

The more my life slows down, the more I see the tension between the busyness of people’s lives and a sense of connection with life itself—its natural rhythms.

I don’t think many people can really thrive with so little space to manoeuvre or be.

Instead of seeing space as an opportunity to unwind, observe, and contemplate, we anxiously fill it, tensely closing the gaps, leaving little to no place for life itself.

I’ll leave you with a question I often pose groups when themes of busyness arise:

What is the rush?

Thanks for reading What is a Good Life?

3. Full Episode - Longing, Belonging, and Matrimony with Stephen Jenkinson - What is a Good Life? #135

4. This Week’s Questions

How often do you consider how a decision you face today might ripple through future generations to come?
Can you reflect on any particular ways that you rush that don’t really add to your quality of life?

About Me

I am a coach, podcast host, and writer, based in Berlin, via Dublin, Ireland. I started this project in 2021, for which I’ve now interviewed nearly 300 people. I’m not looking to prescribe universal answers, more that the guests’ lines of inquiry, musings, experiences, and curiosities spark your own inquiry into what the question means to you. I am also trying to share more genuine expressions of the human experience and more meaningful conversations.

If you’re interested in exploring your own self-inquiry through one-on-one coaching, my 5-week group courses, or fostering greater trust, communication, and connection within your leadership teams, feel free to contact me via email or LinkedIn.

What is a Good Life?