Kylee Leonetti

This is such is a wild ride of a book. I’ve recommended it to many friends, including one who took the time to write me last week and say she was unsettled by the content she was hearing as she listened to the audio version, which I totally understood: those of us who struggle with […]

It’s well past 10am and I’m not writing. I’m in the starfish pose on the floor of my office, attempting to do a Tibetan mediation that promises to get me out of my head and into my body where I keep the memories of what I need to write. But I’m not meditating or writing

Like most weekends, last Sunday I woke up before my family to steal a couple of moments alone to pray. It’s a spiritual practice I try adhering to, but am in no way good at — being zen before God, before coffee, isn’t my instinct if you can believe it — and like most mornings,

Amber, You texted me one night last month to ask if I ever feel discouraged when I see other people doing things I wish I were doing. This was a brave question I’ll try to address in as clear of terms as possible; at the heart of your text there are endless hours of conversation

Four years ago on this day, while we were filming a thoughtful documentary about some extraordinary people making a difference in the world, we watched in awe as a crass reality TV star was sworn in as President of the United States of America. This year’s inauguration feels…different.

According to the consensus of my Instagram followers (mosty women, many who are big into books), I’m the last person on planet earth to read The Nightingale. Still I know there are many people who will watch the forthcoming film based on the novel by Kristin Hannah without ever reading the book, so I wanted

I wrote this post in early January 2020 while sick at home for three weeks battling what we are all pretty convinced was one of the first MN cases of Covid-19. Christian and I had just returned from a week-long work trip to Seattle, and I could barely breathe. It had been 10 sunsets and

It’s Christmas break and we are officially in full holiday swing baking cookies, watching cheesy movies, and requesting Alexa play all our favorite carols on repeat (ask me about a dubstep version of Carol of the Bells I am fervently enjoying at the complete annoyance of my family!). Lola’s off school of course, and she

The nurse who supervises my at-home covid test via Zoom one cold Monday night, does so from her bedroom with the powder blue walls and behind her head, a dog climbs on the bed. It takes me nine years (ok maybe eight) to fill the test tube with specimen. It feels like I’m just spitting into