As I age and evolve, I realize more and more why it’s so important to be fully authentic, not only because it feels lighter but because it allows us to develop deep and true relationships, which ultimately is the most beautiful part of being human.

I’ve always been a fan of psychology, especially when it comes in the form of self-help. Many times I have found answers I didn’t know I was looking for, or solutions that were far simpler than I expected.

(I started writing a Thanksgiving column, paused a moment, did a Google search and realized that I had shared this memory 10 years ago. It was published in this newspaper on Dec. 3, 2014. Hope it’s still worth a read.)

Moments, mostly the ones unplanned, are the stuff of important and lasting life memories. 

Kind Hearts, this hurricane has made me think about water, and I can say with certainty that water once had a role in my grandparents’ life that was near to a religion. Several years ago, a friend sent me a warning that confused me. “An organization named Nestlé is coming for your water.” What the hell? I struggled to understand how anyone could steal my water.

Hello from Room 813 of the Cambria hotel in downtown Asheville. It’s Sunday night, nearing 10 p.m. Warm air outside on the patio overlooking the skyline of a city I’ve orbited for the last 12 years, a place near and dear to my heart and soul, thoughts and visions.

For those of you who don’t know her, Julia Nunnally Duncan is an award-winning freelance writer and author of 11 books of nonfiction, fiction and poetry who is a native of Western North Carolina whose hometown is Marion.

It’s 9:54 a.m. Tuesday. I’m sitting at the old wooden kitchen table at my parents’ farmhouse in rural Upstate New York, within close range of the Canadian border, just a few farm fields away from the mighty, ancient Lake Champlain. 

The alarm on my smart phone echoed throughout the small cabin. It was 7:30 a.m. Saturday and I had to be somewhere in an hour — hopping onto a saddle for an early morning horse ride. 

It was a beautiful sunny morning when I felt the urge to make the 45-minute drive to my hometown of Weaverville.

A lot has changed through the decades, but the excitement surrounding a back-to-school season remains.