Brenna

11/15/2025

How do all you fellas feel about this?! 💜🕊️

11/14/2025

Love 💕 this! What recipes do you make that remind you of loved ones hat passed?
“Cooking is a connection to the ghosts of our past.

We’ve got two shelves at the restaurant filled with cookbooks from a friend’s mother who passed. Every page has her handwriting, her notes, her little adjustments. That’s the real definition of legacy right there.

Food isn’t just recipes — it’s knowledge we inherit, stories we carry, and people we keep alive every time we cook their dishes. I love walking by these books everyday.

What’s a family recipe you still make that reminds you of someone who’s no longer here?”

11/14/2025

🕊️♥️ The more we know…

“December 1985. A cabin in the Rwandan highlands. Dian Fossey lay face-down on the wooden floor, a lantern still burning beside journals filled with her life's work. Her skull had been split by a machete.
She didn't die in the wild. She was killed for protecting it.
To the villagers, she was Nyirmachabelli—"the woman who lives alone with the gorillas." To scientists, she was a stubborn genius who rewrote our understanding of primate behavior. To poachers, she was the shadow in the mist who destroyed their traps with bare hands and refused to back down when staring at rifle barrels.
But before legend, there was just a girl from San Francisco.
Born in 1932, Dian Fossey worked as an occupational therapist, healing children, living an ordinary life. No zoology degree. No grand plan. Then in 1963, she visited Africa, and the mountains called her name.
She answered.
She mortgaged her home, left everything familiar behind, and built the Karisoke Research Center from mud floors, canvas tents, and unshakeable determination. Day after day, she climbed into mist-soaked forests, crawling on hands and knees, mimicking the gorillas' chest-beats and soft grunts, slowly earning their trust.
And they welcomed her.
She witnessed their playfulness, their tenderness, their profound capacity for grief. She held their gaze and understood—these weren't just animals. They were individuals. They were family.
Once she loved them, she could never unlove them.
So when the world came to slaughter them, she became their guardian. She burned poachers' camps. She exposed corrupt officials who chose profit over protection. She made powerful enemies who wanted her gone.
"When you realize the value of all life," she wrote in her journal, "you dwell less on what is past and concentrate on the preservation of the future."
Then in 1977, her world shattered.
Digit—a young gorilla she'd known since birth, who trusted her completely—was found butchered. His head severed, his hands hacked off as trophies to sell to tourists. She buried him with trembling hands and tears streaming down her face.
Something hardened inside her that day. She founded the Digit Fund and doubled down on her war against poaching, knowing full well the cost might be her own life.
The threats grew darker. The jungle whispered warnings. Her diary entries hinted at a truth she wouldn't speak aloud: They are coming for me.
And they did.
No one was ever convicted. Her killers still walk free somewhere in that mountain fog, their names known only to the forest and those who conspired with them.
But here's what they couldn't kill:
Today, more than 1,000 mountain gorillas breathe because one woman stood between innocence and greed. Because she refused to look away. Because she chose love over safety.
Dian Fossey didn't just study gorillas—she became their shield. She proved that loving the wild isn't gentle or romantic. Sometimes it's a battlefield. Sometimes it demands everything you have.
Sometimes it costs your life to save thousands of others.
The Dian Fossey Gorilla Fund continues her work today, protecting gorillas across Africa, training new generations of conservationists, and ensuring her sacrifice wasn't in vain.
In the mist, she still walks—protector, witness, and the beating heart of a forest that refuses to forget her name.
They thought killing her would silence the message. Instead, they made it eternal.” ~Repost ~Unsolved Mysteries and Natural Wonders

11/14/2025

🕊️ The more we know…

Magnolia flowers are so ancient that they appeared before bees even existed — a relic of prehistoric Earth. To this day, they’re still pollinated by beetles, a living link to an age when dinosaurs roamed and the first flowering plants were just beginning to bloom.

11/13/2025

🕊️♥️🙏🏽 Love. Respect. Unity. Human Connections.

11/12/2025

🕊️

11/12/2025

♥️ 🇵🇷 🇺🇸 🕊️

11/12/2025

I ♥️ MY PEOPLE!!! So so blessed!

11/12/2025

🥹 This is the true meaning of gift giving. It’s not about the giver. It’s about freely and selflessly blessing others. My heart is so blessed reading this. What a beautiful soul. Reposting this…

“Before he passed, no one knew what Marshawn Kneeland had quietly done. There were no cameras, no headlines — just one final act of love that spoke louder than any touchdown ever could.

Only after his death did the truth come out: he had donated $2 million to build a community center in Dallas — a safe haven for at-risk kids, a place where laughter could rise again, where dreams could be born instead of broken.

He never asked for credit. He never told a soul. He just wanted the children of his city to have what he never did — hope, safety, and a future.

And so, long after the cheers fade and the games end, Marshawn Kneeland’s spirit will still echo through that building — in every child who dares to believe again. He may be gone, but the light he left behind will never go dark. That’s not just greatness. That’s love — eternal, unspoken, unforgettable. “

🔗 Read the full story here: https://medianews48.com/before-he-passed-no-one-knew-what-marshawn-kneeland-had-quietly-done-there-were-no-cameras-no-headlines-just-one-final-act-of-love-that-spoke-louder-than-any-touchdown-ever-could-linh/

11/11/2025

🇺🇸 SENDING A HUGE SHOUT OUT TO ALL THOSE WHO SIGNED UP TO SERVE AND PROTECT ALL THE CITIZENS OF THE UNITED STATES! NO MATTER RACE, CREED, SEXUAL PREFERENCES OR IDENTITY, OR COLOR! YOU SACRIFICE YOUR LIVES AND COMFORT TO TAKE CARE OF THIS NATION AND TODAY, WE SALUTE YOU!!!! 🇺🇸 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸HAPPY VETERANS DAY!!!♥️♥️♥️♥️

11/11/2025

Unicort never ceases to inspire me! She’s one of the people I look up to for her resilience, zest for life, and love of connecting and lifting others up. I’m so proud of you Courtney Runyon!!! You have done every last thing you said you were going to until this point! Zero doubts the next phase will be any different except better! You’re the best! 💓~B

I have to make this post now as I’m feeling it in the moment.

In March and April of this year I felt dead inside. I sat in the brown kitchen bar stool in my kitchen that I’ve sat in with so much joy for years, overlooking the ocean, mapping out the next chapters of my life. And I couldn’t think of a single thing that excited me.

“I’ll move to an ashram in India” I thought.

“No. I’ll hike the Camino across Portugal.”

But still… I couldn’t spark an ounce of life into my body, no matter what exciting soul nourishing idea I came up with.

It has been a journey back into myself once again. Grief of never having a child, the realization my Dad is on his way out of this world, a final acceptance I’ll always be disabled, which is something I’ve been hiding from here in Mexico, and facing the inevitability of my own aging and mortality. Thoughts I haven’t had before.

40… hit me hard.

The self reflection of what I want the second half of my life to look like has felt disabling. Much different than other times of reinvention in my life, which have felt exciting. I’ve made big decisions and have paved open a new path.

I’ve missed myself.
My unwavering joy and zest for life.

But as I sat down in my same stool at the kitchen counter of the condo I love so much and will be leaving soon, I felt myself come back online. Maybe because I’ve finally found the courage to let go of my Cabo home. Or maybe because I’ve finally put all of the pieces in place for my new life.

I started to write a few words of my memoir, and for the first time since I began writing my memoir, I chose to write about where I’m headed instead of where I’ve been.

I get to go back to school to be a therapist. I get to go home to live with my parents and have the honor of being with the best family I know. I get to live my life and experience it in a new way I haven’t before.

Of course I’ve had grief. Where there’s been love there will come a time for grief.

And I’ve loved my life.

And I’m about to create even more love. ❤️