In “Brushfire,” something sparks at the edge of Dust’s vision and refuses to fade. A voice flickers low in the brambles, calling Dust forward before she’s ready. Deliverance bends, burns, and asks questions no map can answer. One step, then another—the fire is speaking.

In this Pantry Power post, I’m sharing two simple meals that turn canned chicken into something genuinely delicious. If you’ve ever opened a can of shelf-stable chicken and wondered how to make it edible, these recipes are for you. With a few spices, a splash of acid, and some creative kitchen magic, pantry staples can become real comfort food.

“Broken Levees” threads together Sumerian floods, New Orleans trauma, and the quiet disasters we inherit. Dust witnesses who gets the boat and who gets the blame, how levees crumble long before they break, and why resilience is never as simple as staying afloat.

We’ve been fed lies about poverty—lazy, immoral, undeserving. These myths punch down and they prop up a system that flatters the middle class while keeping everyone divided. The truth? Most poor people work hard. And no amount of budgeting fixes a rigged game. If you're slipping or waking up to the scaffolding, you're not alone. Let’s unlearn the lies together.

In The Tower, Dust begins to take human form and steps into the story she’s been watching unfold. As humanity reaches upward, building monuments to its own ambition, the foundations begin to crack. This chapter marks the moment when creation forgets its source—and Dust learns what it means to be both matter and memory.

When we talk about Intersectional Neurodiversity, we’re talking about more than diagnosis—we’re talking about how race, gender, class, and trauma shape the way we’re seen and supported. No two neurodivergent journeys are the same. There’s no right way to survive—only the next breath, the next day, the next small grace.

I’ve always rocked—literally. It’s how I think, focus, and feel calm. For years, people told me to stop. But I’ve learned you can rock the boat just by being yourself.

In Remembered by Dust: Blood Offering, love, faith, and fear blur together on the mountain. Through Dust’s eyes, we revisit the story of sacrifice and obedience—and begin to ask what it means to lay the knife down and choose love instead.

When SNAP Disappears, millions of working families will feel it first at the dinner table. I’m one of them. I’m a mom, a teacher, and a pantry scavenger who’s learned to make soup out of onions and hope. No time to cry, I'm starting my survival guide right now. Here’s how I’m feeding my family, holding onto dignity, and proving that hope still has flavor.

When white denial slips, the truth burns through. This essay is a reflection on racism, silence, and the cost of looking away. The veil has fallen. What once softened the truth now lies in the dirt. When I became an educator, I caught my first glimpses behind the veil that white America has long employed to pretend we were living in a post-racist world. Until then, I could, if I chose, dismiss echoes of hate as jokes, misunderstandings, or euphemisms. Racial violence didn’t h

Hard work matters, but it’s not the whole story. Some fields flood, some forests burn—and still we judge the ones left in shadow. #We Can Thrive challenges the myth of moral merit and asks: what if thriving was something we protected for everyone?

I’ve been creating all my life, but rarely with true collaboration. I tick on the tock—sometimes too much, sometimes not enough—and I’m done apologizing for it. I’m a Creative Weirdo, built for curiosity, connection, and alchemy. If you create for joy and meaning, maybe we’re part of the same tribe.

From Cain and Abel to every child who’s ever felt unseen, Ghost Siblings explores the ache of being second—the shadow of comparison that lingers across generations. Through Dust’s eyes, this chapter becomes a tender reckoning with jealousy, worth, and the longing to matter.

A MAGA-Tok Halloween joke claimed progressives want to “take half the candy.” Funny—but also a perfect snapshot of propaganda. Progressives don’t want your treats; we want the bullies to stop hoarding the bowl. Because kids trick-or-treat if they can. Adults work and thrive if they can. And when everyone has enough, fairness isn’t a trick—it’s the real treat.

Eve’s curiosity cracks the silence of paradise. The Knowing reimagines the moment awareness enters the world—not as a fall, but as the birth of consciousness. It’s the ache and the beauty of becoming: the instant we see ourselves and can never go back. Through myth, memoir, and Dust’s quiet testimony, this chapter explores what it means to wake up—to know, to wonder, and to choose.

This post is being published on what much of the country still calls Columbus Day—a day that reminds us no one is illegal on borrowed land. It’s also a day to decide what kind of American one chooses to be: obedient or awake, fearful or free. As protests rise again, I’m writing about how peaceful resistance protects truth, community, and our collective calm.

Chapter 1 of Remembered by Dust begins where all stories begin — with breath. Part memoir, part myth, and part midrash, this hybrid novel in verse reimagines creation as a stirring, a whisper, a beat, and a glow. Join Meridith Byrne as she claims her place in the universe — and the universe’s place within her.

We argue with logic, but our beliefs come from emotion. The Righteous Mind shows how six moral foundations—Care, Fairness, Loyalty, Authority, Sanctity, and Liberty—shape what feels “right” to each of us. Take the Moral Compass Quiz to see which values guide you and how they compare across America’s moral landscape. Curiosity might just be the bridge we’ve been missing.

I set out to write my memoir, but it became something else—a midrash in verse, narrated by a speck of stardust. Remembered by Dust reclaims faith and story from those who weaponize them, weaving kindness, justice, science, and memory into one tapestry. This preface introduces my author’s note and Dust’s first letter, the beginning of a story that will unfold chapter by chapter.

You didn’t plan to fall through the cracks—but here you are. This no-shame survival guide is for anyone sliding out of middle-class stability and into a system that says poverty is your fault. It’s not. You’re not lazy. You’re not broken. You’re just seeing the scaffolding now. Welcome to the Rabbit Class.