In using my dad’s pen, I’ve gained new perspective on my messy handwriting.

In my dreams, I’m no longer a doormat. And in my waking hours, I’m getting better too.

Here’s what I learned from one month without wine.

The body KNOWS. The soul KNOWS. The mind THINKS.

Here’s the irony about personal growth.

The question isn’t “good or bad” but instead: “Whole or Fractured”?

Awe is the intersection of the human and the divine.

A story about my 10th grade math teacher.

A post about growing pains.

That time my dog knew better than I did.