Brave Heart, Brave Soul. She who is brave is free.

“And then her heart changed, or at least she understood it; and the winter passed, and the sun shone upon her heart.” ~ J.R.R Tolkien     You wanna know the truth? I'm a messy kind of person. Not in how I keep house or anything like that. No, my heart is messy. Let's just be real. My life’s messy, like really messy. Sure, I have an untamable spirit, but it can be a curse too. I never quite know when to stop, when to take a breath or simply wave the white flag. I’m forever the optimist, sprinting full speed ahead, leading the charge. And if you’re wondering, my thoughts can be kinda reckless at times too. I teeter on the verge of giving up before throwing myself all into the fight.     Messy can be good though but it can also be unsettling at the same time. Mostly, I’ve found messy means you’re growing. Messy is where life happens. It’s where memories are made, where life gets challenging, and scary. Seriously like ‘The Haunting of Hill House’ kind of hair-raising, blood-curdlin

  “I will see you in Valhalla. I am a warrior. I will always be. For when my time comes, I will not beg for more time to pass. We are all fated to die on a certain day. I know there is no bravery without fear. Live for each moment as if it were your last. When I leave this world, I will smile. For there are many things for us to discover on the other side of the shield wall...” ` Lagertha    In 40 years of living with chronic illness I’ve watched my body slowly and then quickly fail. I’ve seen my vision fade, my heart weakens, my lungs stall, and my kidneys live day to day on the brink. I could go on and on, spill the beans on how my body has given up the ghost but what’s the point? We all eventually decay. The cost of living is dying. In the end no matter who we are or what kind of life we’ve lived; Death will not be denied her toll.     Dark, I know but Death comes for each of us, sooner or later. She is impossible to avoid or keep at arm's length forever. After years of brushing

    “I cannot remember exactly the first time your soul whispered to mine, but I know you woke it. And since it has never slept alone.” ~ JmStorm Twent y-five years is a long time. Seriously long in fact. Like two and a half decades kind of long to be exact. We’re talkin’ back to the days of big hair, high waisted jeans and overalls. And let’s not forget my horribly dyed black hair if you want to get really technical about it. In some parts, life was simpler I suppose. I was young, full of energy, a bit shy, just finishing up college, and ready to tackle the brave new world outside my door. Twenty-five years ago, I still thought love was some grand, romantic, absolutely charming, picturesque fairy tale. Boy, was I ready to write my own story. But looking back I have had a lot to learn yet. Over the last two and a half decades, I’ve come to understand love, real, true love anyway is so much more than a fairytale.    How about it? Wanna go back a couple decades with me? Like way back whe