Rambunctious is my favorite word. 

I’ve loved it since the day I saw it jump out my mother's frown. I was five or six, minding my own business, misbehaving on the passenger side of her baby blue, VW Bug, with the rusted hole in the floorboard, before seat belts were standard, when suddenly, she hit the brakes and said,

“Stop being so rambunctious!”

How does a kid stop being something he doesn’t understand? 

I guess that's what happens when your mom is a disciplinarian and a school teacher. You’re always being challenged to think. Always being given an idea to unpack. Always being told to use your mind before you hurt your body. Think before you feel. 

To this day, I'm not sure she completely gets me and she’s probably not alone.

I feel first. Think with my heart. Create with my gut.  Mix intuition, discipline and knowledge with spirituality, experience and culture.

Let my pen answer the questions my soul has the courage to ask. Look for beauty in the uncomfortable. Emotion in the empirical. Love in the process.

Challenge the unknown.

That’s where the insights and human truths seem to hide. That’s where the intangible can make us believe and the unexpected can inspire action.

That’s where a rambunctious mind gets the freedom to breathe and the personal becomes relevant. 

That's where I get to be, propitiously, (2nd favorite word), me.

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