A BodyBright Reflection on Pruning, Perceived Lack, and Real Abundance. I don’t love talking about this but maybe that’s exactly why I need to. You know those little secrets you keep tucked away from daylight? Well, this is one of mine.  I have this habit...maybe even a little compulsion...of holding onto clothes. There. I said it. It might not be full-blown hoarding, but definitely more than I need… more than makes sense. Not in some big dramatic way. I’m not maxing out cred

We take the pill. We numb. We get the cortisone shot. We reach for the thing that will make the pain go away. And yes, there is a time and place for relief. But I wonder... Have we trained ourselves to silence pain so quickly that we no longer listen to what it’s trying to say? Our bodies speak. They’re always communicating. But we live in a world that tells us pain is the problem - something to fix, quiet, numb, avoid. Just make it stop. The opioid epidemic shows us where th

I’m not vain. At least, that’s the sentence I spoke before the surgery. Before I had one basal cancer cell removed from my cheek. One from my forehead. And found myself staring into the mirror, wondering who I was with stitches across my face. The cut on my cheek is swollen, sore and much longer than I expected. The one on my forehead feels tight, a little angry. Both feel loud. I said I wasn’t vain. I meant it or I thought I did. But now, I’m not so sure. Because it’s easy

I watch Maddy and Audrey from the shore in Hawaii , their surf lesson well underway. They have moved beyond the calmer waters now, out into the real waves. The ocean is relentless, sending swells one after another. I see Maddy struggling to get back on to her board. Each time she tries, a wave knocks her off again. And again. And again. I can see her frustration, her energy draining with every failed attempt. I silently send a thought to her: Just hold on to the board, Maddy.

Forney, Texas Sept 2025 I thought I had braced myself for the return. But the moment I turned down that old rock road, my heart dropped. I hadn’t been there in well over a decade. Maybe two. And there it was…the house. The house that raised me. Time had grown up all around it, but the bones were still the same. The same bones I ran from. The same bones that live inside me still. The rearview mirror of our past is always there. Sometimes it tries to drive us. And sometimes it’