Maybe grief is just love with nowhere to go yet. If it’s true, then the ache I feel about the state of things isn’t a flaw in my wiring. It’s just my heart still working, still caring. Desmond Tutu said: “My humanity is bound up in yours, for we can only be human together.”

Real curiosity costs something. Every honest question rearranges you a little — and that’s the part no one warns you about. You don’t get to stay the same person and also genuinely want to know. But the rearranging? That’s not destruction. That’s becoming.

Balance isn’t standing still. It’s more like riding a horse — constant micro-adjustments, a quiet conversation between you and the thing that carries you forward. Nobody teaches you this. You just keep showing up until the rhythm finds you. And it does. It always does.

Just had marionberry pie for lunch. It’s my Tina Fay inspired move as response to the word.

There’s a Unitarian prayer that goes: “We gather in the presence of mystery.” Not answers. Mystery. The theologians knew something we’re forgetting. Uncertainty isn’t a problem to solve. It’s an invitation to go deeper.

When you read the news and your nervous system screams I’ve seen this before, I’ve watched harm go unanswered, this is the pattern—that’s not you being dramatic. That’s you remembering. I believe our bodies know things our minds haven’t fully processed.

I feel most connected when I support people with big ideas and open hands—those who believe in abundance and endless possibilities. They show up not just with advice, but with genuine eagerness to learn and accomplish great things together.

I watched Ted Lasso expecting a show about soccer. What I found instead was a reminder: be curious, not judgmental. That’s it. That’s the whole post. And somehow that one phrase has rewired how I’m showing up to everything—my work, my kids, the news cycle. Curiosity feels like hope.

Another reason to get off meta platforms. techcrunch.com/2026/03/10/m...

I stopped my car for two deer in the middle of the road. No other vehicles around. I just slowed down, rolled down my window, told them to be safe, and made sure they were okay. Later, other drivers did the same thing.

Moments like these afford me a chance to pause and breathe, reminded of how much I cherish our gentle Foxtrotter brothers.

If you’re carrying more than ever— career, family, the heavy weight of the world pressing down on you hour by hour, you are not alone in your feelings and heartbreak. I tried to write this morning with a lump in my throat.

Today, Michelle and I are proud to announce that we will be hosting the dedication ceremony for the Obama Presidential Center on June 18th in Chicago, and welcoming the public on June 19th. We can’t wait for you to visit. Go to obama.org to learn more.

There are people who: – hold the boundary with you – hold the line when you’re tired – hold the light when you’re walking through something unknown Not loud about it. Not performative. Just steady. May we never underestimate the power of steady love.

The older I get, the less impressed I am with loud leadership. Show me: • emotional regulation • clean books • sustainable systems • kindness under pressure That’s power.

Mentally I’m somewhere between: • let’s simplify our lives • SUPER BOOST THE STARTUP ACROSS EVERY CHANNEL RIGHT NOW • should we start aquascaping Anyway. Would love a replacement gyroscope for my brain. This one is glitchy.

Every time I try to relax I accidentally start a side quest. It’s never just one thing. It’s aquarium water, horse tail maintenance, calendar reconnaissance, orthopedic surgeon research, and a surprise drawing class with my hybrid clones. I don’t unwind. I unlock achievements.

My nervous system keeps suggesting small treats as a coping strategy and honestly it might be onto something.

I just want to live in a country where the leader can’t enrich themselves with our tax dollars, the government does what the people want, and the wealthy have to follow the laws. You know, like a democracy.

Waldo the Harbor Seal, Sequim, Washington "Will you be my fren?"🥹🦭

Oscillating between buying a lifetime supply of heirloom seeds or training myself to survive exclusively on 1990s protein bars and spite. There is no middle ground.

Giving up boba tea doesn’t appear to be saving me any money. Turns out I just reallocated those funds to plants, fish supplies, and emotional support errands to the pet store our giant puppy Iroh.

The little kids unearthed two snorkeling masks from some mysterious corner of the laundry room and now refuse to remove them. I am attempting to motivate two Darth Vaders to pick up their dishes. The Force is not strong in this kitchen.

When I first joined Every.io, I used to refresh our demo requests every few hours. Back then? A few an hour. Now? I look to see 20+ founders/entrepeneurs sent in an inquiry. That feeling hasn’t gotten old. I genuinely love diving into who they are, what they’re building, and why they reached out.

Mentally wrestling with whether I should: • catch up on work • purge my house • use genmaicha as an excuse to escape to H Mart • or wander into a random fish store and accidentally talk myself into a bigger tank and a slightly sloppy toad Currently losing to the toad.

I own light-colored horses who wake up every morning and choose mud.

When the world is on fire, do we buy marshmallows or learn to make them from scratch? Asking for my nervous system.

My email inbox currently looks like a fully stocked pantry of tiny projects. Please stop sending snacks. I already can’t close the cupboard.

It’s Friday. It’s 38 degrees. Two kids are in swimsuits pitching Shark Tank–level arguments for the pool. I am not the investor they hoped for. 🥶

This week tried to steamroll me but forgot I’m powered by coffee, stubbornness, and mild delusion. Still upright. A little wobbly. Definitely better.

My son has been laying siege to our living room for two days using homemade paper snowballs. Baby gates, pillows, blankets, and an entire sectional are now two snow forts. We are required to rotate shifts defending the lower fortress. Please advise.

I once went on a multi-year journey that started with a C-section and somehow turned into me becoming emotionally invested in local VBAC groups. Plot twist: successful VBAC, then homebirth. Life is weird and women are powerful.

Our gentle, ten-year-old Great Pyrenees, Asha, had a seizure on Monday after nearly a year without any episodes. Now, I'm watching her very closely, worried and hopeful for her well-being.

I love my job. I love my team. I love working alongside entrepreneurs who are brave enough to build something from nothing. And I also give myself permission to daydream. Not from dissatisfaction. From possibility. Stability and imagination don’t compete. They strengthen each other.

Today was technically a day off. I answered a few things. Made a big brunch. I fed the animals, listened to the quiet, and let my body exhale. Then I rested.

Took a quiet moment before heading out for family dinner in town to admire these blooming hellebores during golden hour. Feeling pretty grateful for small moments like this.

You are not “too much” for wanting kindness, clarity, and consistency. Those aren’t high standards. They’re healthy ones.

Grief isn’t a sign you made the wrong choice. It’s often a sign you made a brave one.

Dear Canada 🇨🇦, You have always stood by us, and now we want to stand with you. May communities come together to support one another with love and compassion. May the coming days inspire more kindness, open hearts for listening, and strengthen the bonds of support for the long term.

Today was my first of many orthopedic surgeon appointments. Apparently I'm a "complex case." Multiple rare issues, referral to a specialist. Proposed plan: steroid injections, surgery for tears, joint/ligament/meniscus cleanup, plus injections every six months. Pass.

Spent some time with my keyboard in hopes that maybe a sentence or two could help someone. lyndit.substack.com/p/on-boundar...

I believe this next chapter belongs to people willing to lean into their entrepreneurial genius. Not someday. Not “after things calm down.” Now. Builders in tech. Healthcare. Finance. Infrastructure. Climate. People who are tired of tolerating the status quo and ready to create something better.

Rainy day mood board. Heron, Lake Washington Barry the Missouri Fox Trotter, Lake Tapps Duck flying in front of Mount Tahoma, Tacoma

As Forrest Church wrote: “Life is not about what happens to us, but how we respond to what happens to us.” Some days responding looks like speaking up. Some days it looks like protecting your peace. Both are acts of courage.

Trauma doesn’t disappear just because circumstances improve. Sometimes it shows up in the news. Sometimes in other people’s stories. Sometimes in quiet spirals when you’re thinking about your kids. Healing isn’t linear. It’s layered. Be gentle and compassionate with beautiful heart.

Lately I’ve realized something: Some of my old memories are getting fuzzy. For a long time, I kept them sharp as proof. Evidence. Survival data. But maybe healing looks like letting new evidence shape us instead of letting old stories run the show. We’re allowed and invited to evolve.

Hope doesn’t always look loud. Sometimes it looks like volunteers packing boxes of canned foods. Checking in on a friend, to make sure they don’t succumb to loneliness. Or a small business choosing people over profit, giving their employees a little extra. Quiet doesn’t mean insignificant.

Seeds of hope. There are artists, speakers, creators, and public voices using their platforms to lift others up — donating money, standing up for rights, offering music, words, and presence as fuel for hope. That courage is contagious.

There are communities pooling funds so food banks stay stocked. Neighbors organizing rides. Teachers buying supplies out of pocket. Strangers covering groceries. This doesn’t always make headlines. But it’s everywhere. Community is the answer.

I want to say this too — because it matters: There are so many people choosing care over comfort right now. Showing up quietly. Giving what they can. Protecting others when it would be easier to look away.