The Creative Mind Behind the Words
Hello, I'm Brandi,
I've always dreamt of being a writer. Little did I know, as soon as I learned the physical skills, had paper and writing instrument, my dreams had come true. Here, I share my love for storytelling and the adventures that fuel my creativity.
Through my writings, I hope to inspire and connect with fellow wordsmiths, boost good vibrations, and bring people together who love life.
Cabernet and collab...
Last night, I was lucky enough to be able to sit down and catch up with an old friend. Wendy is one of my favourite humans. She and I met in university while taking a class called, The Teacher and the Writing Process.
We were in the Faculty of Education at the time. It was the mid 90's and this class was designed to help us better understand why it was not only important for students to write, but that it was equally important for English teachers to mentor writing.
It was in that class that my professor asked if he could submit a poem I had written to the local newspaper. My work, was a tribute to my grandparents, An Ode to my Grandparents.
What's important to know about Wendy is that she really smart. Her emotional intelligence is off the charts. And when we get together, we are both better off for the time spent processing life as it unfolds. I's say we're both very spiritual. We're are fascinated with astrology and we avid readers.
Over a couple of glasses of wine, I shared with her that for the past 20 plus months, I've really struggled to keep my spirits afloat. At times, my old tricks just weren't cutting it any more. My tricks include cooking and being in nature. I love walking my way through difficulties. I love to do yoga, took three levels of reiki. I believe in another universe, I have mantras, but still, I couldn't seem to shake frequent bouts of sadness.
Wendy knew that I had gone through some big life shifts—my oldest son graduated. I sold our family home. I turned 50 and work in advocacy at a very difficult time in healthcare. I woke up one morning to learn that after many difficult years, my divorce was final. No fireworks, no party. (I didn't actually understand that the finality of divorce came by way of an email).
I wondered if I could blame hormones, but wasn't inclined to do as much. So I exercised, baked and worked harder. Still I would find myself standing in tide pools of blue.
Over the course of many hours, Wendy helped me to realize that perhaps what was really painful to me, wasn't that all of these bug life events were happening, but that I was grinding it out so hard that my life was void creativity.
That I wasn't writing or making for myself. And that maybe, after more than 20 years of writing on various platforms - magazines, blogs, medium.com, Facebook; that after two decades of polishing the brands of others, it was time I turned inward.
And so here I am. Starting me. If you've found your way here, thanks. It means the world to me.
March
2025
Assholes and Dive Bars
It seems as though more and more, national pride and politics are creeping into every day conversations. This weekend, while having my under arms sugared, I was caught off guard by the esthetician who started talking about US governance.
Kinda trapped, arms above my head, I found myself wishing for a quick exit . Government relations is a part of my work day butI don't want to talk about it on my time off, with strangers. Because I hate to admit it, but talking politics without knowing someone's values is dangerous.
And maybe it's not these days, maybe it's always been this way. Maybe that's why people used to say not to discuss politics or religion at the dinner table. Maybe that's the reckoning that's coming our way.
"We have entered the Age of Aquarian. According to Chat GTP, "The Age of Aquarius is a concept from astrology referring to a new astrological age—a period of roughly 2,150 years—associated with the zodiac sign Aquarius. Though not a scientifically defined era, it's rich in symbolic meaning and has spiritual, cultural, and collective significance for many.
The Age of Aquarius is less a calendar event and more a shift in collective energy—a movement toward awakening, freedom, and interconnectedness. Many spiritual thinkers and astrologers believe we're now living in a potent turning point between worlds: releasing illusion and embracing truth, shedding individualism and choosing unity."
In other words, now is the time to harness our collective energy for the greater good. To break down hierarchies, to seek truth outside the old paradigms. I am more than ready. I am going to jump on the ball at the end of a strong and ride that pendulum into all things restorative.
And when the time comes, I hope I'm sitting in an old beach bar. With lisence plates on the walls and a swinging door to a tiny kitchen here the chef sings while cooking. All Bob Marley, no division. All sunkissed faces, no grind. It's on my list, to write a book dedicated to the best Dive Bars in North America.
I hope that happens. I hope borders remain open, but even more importantly, hearts. It's time to swing back to collective good and come on ins. It's time to make society great again a place where intelligence and intuition merge. And taht's where you'll find me, saddled up beside Hemingway, where people and the sun rise.
April
2025
When a child chooses you
This kid taught has taught me more about love than I ever thought possible. Today, he is 20. And as much as I'd like to say that we love our children equally. We don't. The amount we love them, yes. Equal parts in my case, but the way and the how is much different.
I see it especially in his presence to the world. His knowing, the way he steppped up. How he was always told to watch out for his younger brother, how he felt my worry about letting go. All of those things are parts of him. They have all contributed to the way he loves, his exceptional emotional IQ, and the way he pushes himself hard.
He was my co-pilot on the side of the road in a rain storm. He was my late night when I could or he couldn't sleep. He was my dreams for better, knowing he knew the stats on single moms who didn't make it. He was the push for justice, he was the rage I never allowed myself to feel.
Currently away at college, I long for him to be near, constantly. He's the person in my life who is always asking back, waiting to hear how I'm fairing. He's the easy, the conversation, he picked me.
And today, on his birthday, I am reminded of my hopes that I didn't do too much wrong. That I didn't parcel up my pain and leave him with too much to unpack. I know we do; we all process situations that leave scars, things our children have to work through, un do. I just hope mine aren't too much.
And I hope that his birthday is filled with love. I hope someone hugs him tight. Especially because he's tangle up in a brotherhood. I hope that he feels loved today and that a whole bunch of people tell him so. And I hope that he knows, for better or worse, I did it all because he taught me that even when things don't work out, you can grow into an incredible human; that you can push boundaries, do things never before imagined, love with our whole self.
Today I am increidbly grateful for technology. For delivery drivers. For donuts and this kid. I am better for him choosing me.
April
2025
The Road to 75
My dad used to have a t-shirt that said, "Quarter of a Centur Club"
This past weekend, in honour of my mom's impending 75th birthday, she and I embarked on a road trip. I washed the car, gassed up and when she was ready, my partner Rick and I loaded the vehicle on a Thursday afternoon.
I've written a lot about my mom and the adversity she's faced in her life. We all lost my dad when I was little. She battled breast cancer - twice. And she's never had much extra cash. This life had not been an easy one. Still, she's not one to dwell. With one bad knee, awaiting surgery, she manages to put one foot in front of the other consistently.
Judicious with compliments for her children, she relishes every chance she can to be with and spoil her grands.
When my boys wer small, she spoiled them with treats. This weekend, we were headed down to Liberty, Missouri to see my boy, her first grandchild play lacrosse for an NCAA Div 2 college team. We had snack, lawnchairs and a cow bell. We had planned to be away for a total of 76 hours and on the road for 26 of them.
With 8-'s country and a straight shot south, she and I passed many hours just chatting. About life - hers and mine. We talked about the past. Tried to rationalize events that had changed us. As I drove, she would have thought bubbles emerge and as they did, she'd share. One was of our trip to South Dakota when I was about eleven.
"I guess I was quite brave to have done that," she shared of a 10 day road trip with her three girls. I am the oldest by five years.
"How did you know where you were going?" I asked. "I had you," she replied. "You must have helped guide me with the road signs."
She and I have been that way, that long. We've had to. It was our survival kit. She went on to share that she booked us in to motels with outdoor pools. We drove through Bear Country USA, and went to Mount Rushmore. We saw South Dakota's version of SeaWorld and panned for gold.
She had borrowed a reliable car to get us there safely, and that assurance, of arriving fully in tact, was where linked us now to that memory.
She and I are nothing alike and yet, we are exactly the same. Sitting together, completely at ease, I felt so much gratitude for her bravado all those years ago. For her stick-with-it-ness that remains today. Something she passed along to me, and the boy we went to see.
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