The Hallow App: A Calm Companion for Mind, Body, and Spirit – For Some

Jason Religion, Society, Technology

In the digital age, where technology often distracts us from spiritual pursuits, the Hallow app emerges as a beacon for those seeking to deepen their faith through prayer and meditation. Founded in 2018 by Alex Jones, Alessandro DiSanto, and Erich Kerekes, Hallow has rapidly become the world’s leading Catholic prayer and meditation application.

Alex Jones, the CEO, experienced a profound personal journey that led to Hallow’s creation. Raised Catholic but having drifted from his faith, Jones explored secular meditation practices. It was during this exploration that he discovered the rich tradition of contemplative prayer within Christianity, particularly the practice of Lectio Divina. This method involves meditative reading of Scripture, allowing individuals to listen and respond to God’s word. A pivotal moment for Jones was reflecting on the phrase “hallowed be thy name” from the Lord’s Prayer, which reignited his spiritual commitment and inspired the app’s name.

Hallow offers an extensive library of over 10,000 audio-guided sessions, encompassing various forms of prayer and meditation. Users can engage in daily prayers, the Rosary, the Divine Mercy Chaplet, and Scripture-based meditations. The app also features content tailored for better sleep, including Night Prayer and Bible stories narrated by notable figures like Jonathan Roumie, known for his portrayal of Jesus in “The Chosen,” and Fr. Mike Schmitz.

One of Hallow’s distinguishing features is its adaptability to individual preferences. Users can personalize their prayer experience by selecting different session lengths, guides, and background music, such as Gregorian chant. The app also includes a journaling feature, encouraging users to reflect on their spiritual journey and track their progress.

Community engagement is central to Hallow’s mission. The app facilitates “Prayer Families,” allowing users to connect with friends, family, or parish groups to share prayers and intentions, fostering a sense of communal spirituality even in a digital environment.

Hallow’s impact is evident in its widespread adoption. By early 2024, the app had been downloaded over 18 million times across more than 150 countries. Its popularity surged notably during Lent, especially following a Super Bowl commercial featuring actor Mark Wahlberg, which propelled Hallow to the top of Apple’s App Store rankings.

Beyond individual use, Hallow has formed partnerships to broaden its reach. Notably, it collaborated with the Archdiocese of Detroit for the “I AM HERE” Eucharist campaign, aiming to deepen users’ connection to the Eucharist.

While Hallow has received acclaim for its innovative approach to integrating technology and faith, some users have noted areas for improvement. Feedback includes desires for more intuitive navigation and varied voice options for guided sessions. Nevertheless, the app’s commitment to enhancing the spiritual lives of its users remains evident.

While Hallow is designed for spiritual growth, its benefits ripple out into mental, emotional, and even physical wellness — especially for communities like the elderly and obese, who may feel underserved by other wellness tools. It’s not a cure-all, but it’s a powerful, peaceful step toward wholeness.

In a world where digital distractions are rampant, Hallow stands out by leveraging technology to draw individuals closer to their faith, offering a sanctuary for prayer, meditation, and community in the palm of one’s hand.

A yearly individual plan for $69.99. This breaks down to approximately $6 per month, but you will not be charged monthly—it’s a one-time annual payment. There is also a free version.

For the Elderly: A Path to Peace, Routine, and Connection

  1. Promotes Daily Routine and Structure
    Many seniors find comfort in predictable routines. Hallow offers guided prayers, daily reflections, and evening meditations that can help create a calming, faith-centered structure to each day — something that can be especially important in retirement or during times of isolation.

  2. Combats Loneliness and Isolation
    Through features like Prayer Families and the ability to follow along with real-time community prayer challenges, elderly users can feel connected to a broader faith community — even if they live alone or have limited mobility.

  3. Supports Mental Health
    The app’s calming music, night prayers for better sleep, and meditative content can help reduce anxiety, depression, and insomnia, which are common issues in later life.

  4. Gentle User Experience
    With audio-based content and intuitive navigation, Hallow is relatively accessible for seniors, even those who may not be tech-savvy. Many features can be used hands-free, which is helpful for users with arthritis or visual impairments.

For Obese Users: A Low-Pressure Way to Reconnect with the Body and Spirit

  1. Stress and Emotional Eating Support
    Obesity is often tied to stress, emotional struggles, and low self-esteem. Hallow’s focus on meditative prayer and reflection helps users create space to slow down, reconnect with their values, and reduce stress triggers.

  2. Encourages Stillness and Mindful Habits
    Unlike exercise-based wellness apps, Hallow offers non-judgmental, faith-focused mindfulness. This can be especially valuable for those who may feel excluded or self-conscious in typical wellness spaces.

  3. Spiritual Self-Care
    Sometimes, the first step in health isn’t physical — it’s spiritual. Hallow creates an environment where users can focus on healing, forgiveness, and personal growth, without the pressure of weight-loss rhetoric or comparison.

  4. Gentle Sleep and Relaxation Aids
    For obese individuals who struggle with sleep apnea, chronic fatigue, or insomnia, the app’s soothing night prayers and meditative audio tracks can help foster better rest, which in turn supports overall health.

How to Have a Fat Party

Jason Entertainment, Health, People, Society

It starts with a vibe. Not a theme, not a checklist, not a Pinterest board. A vibe. Joyful, radical, defiant in its softness. A party, yes—but not just any party. A fat party. One where every guest invited is gloriously fat, unapologetically themselves, and absolutely ready to take up space—physically, emotionally, and energetically.

You send out the invitations. They’re cheeky, a little glittery, full of warmth. No diet talk, no weigh-ins, no backhanded compliments allowed. Just: “Come as you are. Wear what makes you feel like a star. We’re dancing, we’re laughing, we’re snacking. You deserve to enjoy yourself.”

Because you do.

There’s something healing about gathering with people who just get it. The unspoken battles, the everyday microaggressions, the awkward chairs and unsolicited advice. At a fat party, those battles dissolve. You’re not explaining yourself. You’re not shrinking. You’re not the only fat person in the room—you’re one among many. A constellation of beauty in every body.

You prep the space with intention. Comfy chairs, floor cushions, and nothing too precious to sit on. There’s movement in the music—a playlist curated to make you shimmy without thinking. Think disco, pop, queer anthems, and the deep cuts that make everyone yell “oh my GOD this song!” at least once an hour.

And then: the snacks. Oh, the snacks.

But this isn’t about drowning in sugar or throwing nutrition out the window in the name of “cheat day” rebellion. No. This is about love. You bring out healthy snacks—not in the punitive, diet-y sense, but in the way your body feels nourished, supported, and still joyful after you eat. We’re talking juicy watermelon wedges, roasted chickpeas dusted in smoky paprika, cucumber spears with tahini drizzle, date balls rolled in coconut flakes, air-fried samosas, guacamole so good it makes your eyes close for a second.

Food that says, “I care about me and you.”

Food that fuels dancing and belly laughs and talking for three hours about nothing and everything.

Someone brings kombucha cocktails. Someone else shows up with homemade hummus in four colors. There’s herbal tea, there’s sparkling water, and maybe there’s cake—but the kind that doesn’t come with guilt as a side dish. Just celebration. Just sweetness for sweetness’ sake.

But here’s the thing: while this party is about joy, it’s also about honesty.

Yes, we are fat. Yes, we are beautiful and worthy and human. But no—being fat is not, by itself, a healthy state. Many of us carry extra weight for complex, deeply personal reasons—trauma, illness, economics, survival. And even in this moment of love, we need to tell the truth: our bodies deserve care, not just comfort.

This isn’t about shame. It’s about hoping—maybe even working—toward a future where fat parties don’t need to exist. Not because fat people shouldn’t be celebrated, but because we’ve created lives full of support, resources, and health that help us live in bodies that thrive. Bodies that move with ease. Hearts that beat strong. Communities where prevention and care are accessible, not aspirational.

We celebrate today, and we commit to ourselves tomorrow.

Because you are not a problem to fix. You are a whole, vibrant human being. But you also deserve your best shot at health, energy, longevity, and feeling good—not just emotionally, but physically.

So, dance hard. Laugh loud. Pass the carrots and the cupcakes. But don’t forget: this joy can live alongside change. You can love yourself and want something better.

For tonight, though? We party. And it’s a damn good one.

How to Get Along with Young People: Boomer Meets Zoomer

Jason Culture, Psycholoy, Society

So, you’ve found yourself surrounded by youths. They’re everywhere. Lurking in coworking spaces, mumbling in TikTok dialects, refusing to buy houses, and drinking overpriced iced coffee with oat milk and existential dread. Fear not, dear reader. With this guide, you too can vibe with the younglings—or at least avoid being publicly roasted in a group chat.

Step 1: Speak Their Language (Badly)

Young people don’t use words. They use vibes. Communication is now a complex symphony of emojis, acronyms, and irony so thick you could spread it on gluten-free sourdough. Want to say something’s good? It’s “mid.” Want to express emotional vulnerability? Just send the clown emoji. Accidentally use a thumbs-up? You’ve just declared yourself a digital fossil.

Tip: Sprinkle your sentences with “slay,” “lowkey,” and “no cap.” Bonus points if you misuse them with confidence. “This lasagna lowkey slays, no cap.” You’ll either be respected or gently euthanized with kindness.

Step 2: Understand Their Hobbies (Or Pretend To)

Gone are the days of golf and stamp collecting. Today’s young people are into highly niche pursuits like:

– Making PowerPoints for fun (seriously).
– Curating Spotify playlists as if their emotional well-being depends on it (it does).
– Filming themselves reacting to food with the intensity of a war documentary.

You don’t need to get it. You just need to nod solemnly and ask what their “main hyperfixation” is this week. Then listen. Or pretend to listen while you Google what “liminal spaces” are and why they make everyone feel like they’re haunted by capitalism.

Step 3: Talk About Mental Health, But Make It Casual

Young people talk about anxiety the way previous generations discussed the weather. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Oh, not bad, just spiraling today lol.”
“Same. You want to trauma bond over overpriced tea?”

If you’re uncomfortable with this level of openness, just mirror their style. Throw in some self-deprecating humor about your own existential dread and watch them nod with approval like you’ve unlocked the final level of empathy.

Step 4: Don’t Try Too Hard

Nothing reeks of desperation like a 47-year-old trying to use “rizz” in a sentence. Young people can sense inauthenticity like blood in the water. They don’t want you to be them. They want you to respect them, which is much easier because it mostly involves not saying “back in my day” every five minutes.
Instead, ask questions. Listen. Express genuine curiosity without sounding like you’re observing a rare animal in the wild. “So, explain to me why everyone hates landlords now?” works better than “These kids don’t want to work anymore.”

Step 5: Accept That They Might Be Right

Yes, their memes are weird. Their attention spans are shredded. Their sense of humor is a cursed blend of absurdism, pain, and corporate nihilism. But maybe—just maybe—it’s because they inherited a planet on fire, an economy made of dust, and a social structure that runs on vibes and broken promises.

And yet, they still make each other laugh. They still fight for a better world. They still wear Crocs on purpose. Maybe they know something we don’t.

A Scenario:

A trendy, plant-infested café. Indie music hums overhead. Enter Roger (56), a well-meaning man in a tucked-in polo shirt. He scans the menu like it’s written in hieroglyphs. He squints at the words “matcha,” “shroom latte,” and “moon milk.”

Across the room, Jade (23) sips an iced drink the color of despair and scrolls on her phone at 300 miles per hour.

Roger approaches timidly.

ROGER
Excuse me, is this seat taken?

JADE (without looking up)
Not unless you’re a capitalist.

ROGER
Oh! Uh, no. I’m just Roger.

JADE (finally looking up)
Chill. I’m Jade. You can sit. Just don’t ask me to explain crypto.

ROGER
Wouldn’t dream of it. I still think Bitcoin is a kind of app.

Roger sits, clutching a coffee that is somehow both hot and iced. Silence.

ROGER (attempting camaraderie)
So… what do you do?

JADE
I’m a content strategist for a decentralized art DAO.

ROGER
…A what now?

JADE
It’s like a job, but no health insurance and 4-hour Zoom calls with people named “Pixel_Priest.”

ROGER
Right. Makes sense. I was in middle management for 27 years, so I guess… we’re both tired?

JADE
Deeply. Existentially. But my tired wears Doc Martens.

They share a moment. Jade adjusts her headphones around her neck.

ROGER
Can I ask—what is that thing you’re always doing on your phone?

JADE
Oh. I’m doomscrolling memes to numb the ache of late-stage capitalism. Want to see one?

She shows him her screen. It’s a blurry SpongeBob image overlaid with the text “me trying to thrive in a collapsing ecosystem.”

ROGER (blinks)
Is this… humor?

JADE
Yeah. It’s trauma, but funny. Welcome to the internet.

Roger nods slowly, sipping his mysterious drink.

ROGER
Back in my day, we—

JADE (deadpan)
—walked uphill both ways. I know. I’ve heard the legends.

ROGER (chuckles)
Fair enough. So what do you young folks… want?

JADE
Honestly? Universal healthcare, rent control, and a nap. Mostly the nap.

ROGER
Now that I can understand.

Pause. The music changes to something vaguely apocalyptic with synth.

ROGER
You know, you’re not nearly as scary as the internet made you sound.

JADE
And you’re not nearly as boring as Twitter said you’d be. You’re just… earnest. Kinda wholesome. Like a Labradoodle in khakis.

ROGER (pleased)
I’ll take that.

Jade slides her phone across the table.

JADE
Here. I’ll teach you how to make a meme. You can send it to your other middle-aged friends and confuse them for sport.

ROGER (grinning)
You’re a generous soul.

They lean over the phone together as Roger struggles to type “me when I try to understand Gen Z culture.”

Fade out.

Final Thought

Getting along with young people isn’t about pretending to be young. It’s about showing up with curiosity, humility, and a willingness to admit you don’t know what “corecore” is—and that’s okay.
Besides, they don’t know what a fax machine is, so we’re even.

Rising Above Name-Calling in a World Obsessed with Image

Jason Culture, People, Psycholoy, Society

Let’s face it: the world can be a weird place for anyone who dares to exist in a body larger than a coat hanger. From unsolicited diet advice from your aunt who “swears by cucumber water,” to strangers loudly sighing when you sit next to them on public transport—as if your thigh touching theirs might signal the apocalypse—being fat in public is basically a full-contact sport.

But worry not, fellow rotund renegade. You’ve just stumbled upon the only (very unofficial) survival guide for coping with being called derogatory names while living your best, curvaceous life. Warning: sarcasm ahead.

Step 1: Accept That Everyone’s a Certified Nutritionist Now

Forget medical degrees. All it takes to become a world-renowned health expert in 2025 is being thin and mildly opinionated. Prepare to be informed by Chad at the gym that “You’d be really pretty if you lost weight,” while he slurps down a protein shake with the nutritional value of drywall.

Smile sweetly. Say, “Thanks, Chad. You’d be really tolerable if you stopped talking.”

Step 2: Name-Calling is a Reflection of Deep Insecurity (and Possibly Low Blood Sugar)

When someone yells “whale” at you from a passing car, remember: it’s not about you. It’s about their need to feel superior for 0.3 seconds before driving back to their sad little life and Googling, “How to feel joy.”

Repeat after me: I am not your emotional punching bag, Kevin. Go journal about your dad issues.

Step 3: Weaponize Confidence

There’s nothing more confusing to a bully than a fat person who loves themselves. If someone calls you “fatty,” strike a pose like you’re on the cover of Vogue: Plus-Sized World Domination Edition. Bonus points if you wink.

Consider printing a business card that says: Yes, I’m fat. No, I’m not asking for your opinion. Please direct your insecurities elsewhere.

Step 4: Join the Resistance (aka Group Chats and Internet Memes)

Every good revolution starts with community. Find your people. Swap stories. Share memes. Laugh so hard you jiggle, and then laugh harder because jiggling is apparently offensive to someone somewhere.

When in doubt, post a selfie. Caption: Not thin, not sorry.

Step 5: Turn the Narrative On Its Head

The next time someone tries to insult you with a food reference (“Hey Big Mac!”), respond with enthusiasm. “Thank you! I’m delicious, universally loved, and available 24/7. You wish you had my consistency.”

Make it weird. Make them uncomfortable. It’s called reclaiming power, darling.

Step 6: Understand the System is the Problem, Not You

In a culture where body image is monetized, every insult is part of a larger marketing scheme to convince you you’re broken so they can sell you something. Diet pills, detox teas, “waist trainers” (aka corsets rebranded by influencers)—it’s all nonsense. Your worth isn’t up for commercial auction.

If capitalism had a face, it would probably call you “lazy” while trying to sell you a $90 salad.

Final Thoughts

Being called names hurts. It does. But you are not the insult. You are not the opinion of a stranger who peaked in high school and now roams the internet looking for people to project their bitterness onto.

Keeping Your Spirits Up When You’re Obese

Jason Lifestyle, People, Psycholoy, Society

Some days are heavier than others — and not just physically.

When you are obese, the weight you carry isn’t always yours alone. It can be the weight of passing comments, stares that linger too long, chairs that don’t quite fit, unsolicited advice dressed up as concern. And over time, all of that — the quiet, everyday friction of navigating a world not built for you — can start to chip away at your spirit.

But here’s the truth no one says loudly enough: you have every right to exist exactly as you are — and to feel good while doing it.

Keeping your spirits up when you’re obese isn’t about pretending things are easy. It’s about protecting your joy in a world that tries, in small and loud ways, to take it from you. It’s not always a straight line. But it’s possible. And you are absolutely worth the effort.

Start with your self-talk — the inner voice that narrates your day. Is it kind? Is it yours? Or has it been shaped by everything you’ve ever been told you’re not? You don’t need to force yourself into toxic positivity. But you can start gently. Instead of “I hate how I look,” try “I’m allowed to take up space.” Instead of “I should be smaller,” try “I’m more than a body.” These aren’t magic spells. But they’re seeds. And over time, they grow into something stronger than shame: self-respect.

Surround yourself with people and spaces that don’t make you feel like a project. Whether it’s online communities, a book club, a joyful fitness class, or a circle of friends who see you, not just your size — find the places where you can breathe easy. Where laughter isn’t laced with judgment. Where no one’s trying to fix you. Where your worth is assumed, not negotiated.

And on hard days — because they do come — nourish yourself emotionally, not just physically. That might mean making a meal that feels good and comforting, not just functional. Or going for a walk not to lose weight, but to feel the wind on your face and remember you’re alive. Or curling up with a book, calling someone who makes you laugh, dancing in your kitchen. Whatever lights you up — even if it’s small, even if no one else sees it — do more of that.

Also, give yourself permission to rest from the fight. The mental energy it takes to navigate fat phobia, body policing, and social expectations is real — and exhausting. You don’t have to be an activist every day. You don’t owe the world your transformation story. You don’t have to earn your joy.

Your spirit doesn’t live in a number on a scale. It lives in your laughter, your kindness, your thoughts, your resilience. It lives in your ability to show up for yourself, over and over, even when it’s hard.

So hold your head high. You are not a before picture. You are not a problem to solve. You are a person. Whole, worthy, and allowed to take up space in this world — and in your own life — with pride, softness, and full-hearted joy.

Whatever you do, resist the urge to eat your way out of the funk.

And on the days when that feels far away, know this: you’re not alone. And you’ve already come farther than you think.

 

Why We Should Stop Listening to the Naysayers

Jason History, Society

The world, they say, is falling apart. Just turn on the news, scroll through a comment section, or sit next to that one person who always starts a conversation with, “Everything’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

But what if it isn’t?

What if, beyond the noise and the outrage and the doom-scrolling, we paused long enough to notice that we are, in many ways, living in the most remarkable chapter of human history?

There’s a strange comfort in cynicism. It asks nothing of us but agreement. It’s easy to be the critic — to shake your head at progress, mock innovation, and romanticize a past that was, for most people, far harder than the present. The naysayers have their slogans: “We’re more disconnected than ever.” “Society’s gone soft.” “Nothing works anymore.”

But take a breath. Look around. So much of what we now take for granted would have once been called magic.

Tap a piece of glass and speak to someone on the other side of the world. Press a button and summon food to your doorstep. Sit in a chair 30,000 feet in the air and arrive across oceans in hours. Watch a heart beat in real-time on a screen. Vaccines, clean water, electric cars, video calls, global libraries in your pocket. Hot showers. Do you know how many generations dreamed of hot, running water?

Yes, society has its flaws. Of course it does. No one’s saying it’s perfect. But perfection was never the goal. Progress was. And progress — real, messy, imperfect progress — is everywhere if you’re willing to look.

It’s in the ability to live longer, safer, freer lives than our ancestors could have imagined. It’s in the quiet victories of public libraries, of GPS, of near-eradicated diseases. It’s in the fact that we can discuss ideas freely, connect across cultures, share stories instantly, and work from anywhere. We may gripe about the little things — delayed flights, broken Wi-Fi, the endless string of passwords — but zoom out just a bit, and you’ll see: we’ve built something astonishing here.

And yes, modern life can be noisy. Exhausting. Relentless. But even in the chaos, there are daily miracles hiding in plain sight: a stranger holding the door open. An emergency room with lights and beeping machines ready at 2 a.m. An audiobook that whispers wisdom through your earbuds. A city that hums with the coordinated genius of electricity, plumbing, buses, signals, satellites, and steel.

The naysayers will always be there. They’ll always say it was better before, or it’s all about to end, or nothing really matters. But that’s not truth. That’s fatigue wearing a mask of certainty. Cynicism might sound smart, but wonder? Wonder is wise.

We don’t need blind optimism. We need informed awe. We need to remember that for most of human history, survival was the daily task — and now, we get to ask bigger questions, dream bigger dreams, build better futures. That’s a gift. One we shouldn’t ignore because someone on the internet is shouting into a void.

So no, we don’t have to listen to the naysayers. We don’t have to join the chorus of complaint. We can notice, instead, the quiet miracles — the ones that fill our lives not with perfection, but with possibility.

Because the world isn’t ending. It’s evolving. And we’re lucky to be here for the ride.

 

 

The Cult of Compulsory Happiness

Jason Culture, Lifestyle, People, Society

There’s a smile that doesn’t reach the eyes. You’ve probably worn it. You’ve probably seen it. The kind that says “I’m fine!” when your chest is heavy or your mind is quietly unraveling. The kind you offer at work, in the grocery store, or over brunch, even when everything inside is whispering “no, I’m not.”

That’s the calling card of compulsory happiness — a quiet but powerful expectation that whatever you’re feeling, you’d better wrap it in sunshine and serve it with a side of gratitude.

We live in a world that sells joy like a product. It’s bottled in bright colors, printed in inspirational quotes, curated in glowing Instagram grids. We’re told to “stay positive,” “choose happiness,” “good vibes only.” And if you’re not smiling? You must be doing it wrong.

The message is subtle but relentless: happiness is a moral obligation. A social expectation. A performance, not just a feeling.

And that performance is exhausting.

Compulsory happiness isn’t about real joy — the kind that bubbles up uninvited, soft and surprising. It’s about emotional regulation on public display. It tells us that discomfort is dangerous, that sadness is selfish, that anger is unattractive. It flattens our humanity into something more digestible — more likeable — more marketable.

We see it in the workplace, where expressing burnout or grief gets filed under “not a team player.” We see it in wellness culture, where emotions are symptoms to be optimized away. We see it in social media, where every hardship is expected to end with a “but I’m grateful for the lesson.”

We see it in ourselves, when we bite our tongues, raise our eyebrows, and smile until our cheeks ache, because the truth might be too much for the room.

But the truth is this: not every moment is a good one. Not every mood needs a silver lining. Sadness is not failure. Anger is not weakness. Anxiety is not a defect to be hidden behind cheerful affirmations.

Real emotional health isn’t about constant positivity. It’s about making room for the full spectrum of human feeling. Joy and sorrow. Hope and fear. Contentment and grief. Letting yourself feel without performing. Letting others feel without fixing.

And maybe — just maybe — happiness becomes more meaningful when it’s not mandatory. When it comes not from pressure, but presence. Not from smiling through the storm, but from surviving it and still choosing to open the window.

We don’t need more forced joy. We need more permission to be real.

So the next time you find yourself reaching for that polished smile, pause. Ask yourself: Is this how I feel, or how I think I’m supposed to feel?

If it’s not real, it doesn’t have to be worn.

You are allowed your shadows. You are allowed your softness. You are allowed your joy — but only when it’s yours, and not someone else’s expectation.