One Year of Sunday Mornings With You

Fly Bravely newsletter turned one this week.

Today marks exactly one year since I sent my first edition of Fly Bravely. 52 Sundays. 52 editions. No matter where I was or what was happening in my life, Sunday mornings has become sacred. An early morning alarm, a warm cup of coffee, me writing in the dark hoping you’ll wake up and enjoy my words.

When I began, I had a secret weapon. A writer who had been on Substack long before me who showed me the ropes. Thank you

Karla Jacobs

for setting me up for success, for being “in it” with me, teaching me how to send my very first newsletter, editing my early writing, and being the best Substack cheerleader out there!

My early vision for Fly Bravely.

In the beginning, each newsletter was a week-long production. I'd review my list of potential topics early in the week, write a draft, revise it, second-guess myself, rewrite it, edit it, and finally, on Sunday morning nervously hit send.

Now? I go to sleep Saturday night thinking about what I want to share and wake up Sunday morning and write directly from my heart to the keyboard. The process has become a focused, almost meditative ritual.

Looking back at a year's worth of Fly Bravely newsletters, here’s what writing this each week has taught me:

1. Consistency trumps perfection. The newsletter that gets sent is infinitely more valuable than the "perfect" one that remains forever in drafts.

2. Ideas are everywhere. The world is constantly offering material if you're paying attention.

3. Vulnerability connects. The editions where I shared personal struggles or uncertainties generated the most heartfelt engagement.

4. Every open matters. I still get a little thrill seeing each like and comment. Knowing someone took time from their day to read my thoughts remains humbling.

Substack tells me that your favorite newsletters have been:

• Explaining how Wind Phones help people process their grief.

• Writing about IVF, especially when I shared my Op-Ed for The Washington Post.

• Sharing New York’s Secret Garden and my Mother’s Day tradition.

• Connecting over my New York Times Metropolitan Diary about the practice of stooping.

• Stories about motherhood and serendipity—especially the newsletter I wrote in Joshua Tree, CA, The Significance of a Flower in the Desert.

The heart of this newsletter is about creating a space where we can all feel a little more connected to ourselves and to one another.

Thank you for being here, whether this is your 52nd edition or your first. Sunday mornings are better because we spend them together. Here's to another year of flying bravely together!

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Words of the Week

"We turn not older with years, but newer every day." - Emily Dickinson

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Photo of the Week

A bee visiting a flower on a West Village rooftop.

I captured this moment—a bee visiting a flower—on a West Village rooftop with the Empire State Building in the background a few years ago. At first glance, a bee buzzing around a Manhattan rooftop might seem out of place, but these tiny pollinators have actually found thriving homes across the city thanks to initiatives like the one my sister-in-law Nicole began on The High Line.

Perhaps this bee was from one of Andrew Coté’s hives. Andrew is a fourth-generation apiarist and his company, Andrew’s Honey, maintains hives across Manhattan neighborhoods and in iconic places including Central Park, the roof of the Moma, Woodlawn Cemetery, schools, hotels, and more. He says that bees fly up to three miles from their hive to pollinate flowers—wow! If you’re in New York, you can buy his hyperlocal honey at the Union Square Greenmarket on Saturdays.

Andrew’s honey. Photo from The New York Times..

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