31 Days of Brave Hearts


“I am my best work—a series of road maps, reports, recipes, doodles, and prayers from the front lines.”  Audre Lorde

So I stumbled upon this thing called 31 Days.  It’s a writing challenge every October where you are dared to write on one topic every single day.

The dare was there and I decided to take it.  I knew straight away what I would write about.  

My people.  Brave hearts of all kinds, of all walks, of all ages.  The brave hearts who work in shelters and on crisis lines–and the ones who don’t.  The brave ones who are quiet.  The ones who might not know they are brave.  The brave hearts who hold space for others to be brave.  The souls who have a story to share.  You.

I’ve carried a wish to shine some light on those who aren’t always in the spotlight. Who are certainly not seen and honored enough in this lifetime.  And so it is that I am here writing every day about some of the brave souls I know.  I asked them 20 questions.  They answered.  And now I get to share a glimpse of them with you.  They are amazing.  They are fierce and gentle and set my heart on fire just knowing they are in the world. 

Thanks to each of you, for being you, and for saying yes.

Day 1 – Kelli Finch

Day 2 – Bree

Day 3 – Michael

Day 4 – Melissa Greenwell

Day 5 – Allison

Day 6 – Kristina Sargent

Day 7 – SCZ

Day 8 – Sara Clayton

Day 9 – Julie Johnson

Day 10 – Kathryn Gates

Day 11 – Jill Robertson

Day 12 – Tracy Price

Day 13 – Lori Droege

Day 14 – RheAnn White Peacock

Day 15 – Janice

Day 16 – Carolyn Raleigh

Day 17 – Leah Godlaski

Day 18 – Alysha Floyd

Day 19 – Ann Brandon

Day 20 – Leah Clark

Day 21 – Joseph

Day 22 – Ronda Howard

Day 23 – Tamara Reif

Day 24 – Kendra Embank

Day 25 – Kirstin

Day 26 – Meghan Quigley

Day 27 – Tina Guelda

Day 28 – Story

Day 29 – Harper

Day 30 – Cheryl Pletcher

Day 31 – all the unnamed Brave Hearts 




Some say the Fool is the first letter of the ancient alphabet, which is a silent letter. It is the in- breath before we chose to make the very first sound in the universe. It is everything and nothing. It is all that we are. We are the beginning of every journey there is, laughing, open.

Marybeth Bonfiglio, #awomansthirst

This was my list.  Spilling fast and true on the page.

It felt like devotion and free-falling.

These were my days.  Strung together, loopy and imperfect.

They tasted of salty caramels and oysters with frosty glasses of beer and bazooka iced tea.


There were fake tattoos, hers and mine.  There was the night he played the guitar on the front porch under the strawberry moon.

And in a haze of change, there was still the joy ride of just her and me with the sunroof open and windows down.  Singing “Killing Me Softly” until our voices cracked through a maze of yellowing corn.


It smelled of clary sage and steamy pavement after a rain and her skin with the sunscreen slathered on.

There were days carried by 16 airplanes, a hammock and one dream catcher of pink and gold.

It looked like treasure hunting in back alleys and junk stores and the pages of magazines.

It burned.  And ached.  And smoldered on.


And in the end, the ravens cawed and the bee stung fast and hard.  The medicine of this season.

And she said, it may never get any clearer than this.

It was a summer to remember.  Jubilee.  The Summer of Freedom and Love.





fuel, part two


There will be a breakfast date here this week.  And Music Together class with my little one here.

We will soon make apple cider donuts and in November my love and I will head to Sundance Resort for our 15 year anniversary.

In the meantime, I keep reading about this game-changer of a project, feeling grateful I was a small part of it.  And I’m circling back to work started in this Conscious Booksmith course as I listen to my friend Maggie serenade me on her new album.

Best of all, I am working behind the scenes on my Airstream trailer.  Painting and sealing and sewing.  Dreaming too over on my Airstream Studio Pinterest Board.

Fall has come.