The Coyote Calls

The coyote sat on the lush green hillside, its amber eyes cutting through the evening haze. He looked at me like he knew something, something old and wise that carried the scent of the wild places. His gaze called me, urging me to rise and run beside him, to chase down whatever it is that we seek when we leave behind the known world.

I stayed where I was, on the wide-open veranda, fingers curled around Rob's hand, the air around us heavy with the fragrance of the pine forest. I told him about the coyote—how I wanted to run, how I wanted to let my feet pound the earth, to taste the freedom that seemed to hover just at the edge of my senses—but how I couldn’t leave him here, not now, not like this.

Rob laughed, that big laugh that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside, his eyes twinkling under the lines of his brow. “Is that what they taught you at Bucknell?” he teased, the corners of his lips lifting. “Go on. You can always come back. I’ll be here. I’m okay. Go. Run with the coyotes. I’ll be with you.”

And then I woke up . . . 

Those six months tested us in every way—a time filled with the weight of what was to come. The man who loved words, who loved to read and tell stories, who cherished the history of the world, lost his ability to do what he loved most. Words slipped from him, and time turned to water. Still, we kept going. He entered the hospital for the last time on August 17th, almost to the day of six months since his diagnosis. On September 3rd, as the summer light began to thin, Rob passed away quietly, as if letting go was the simplest thing.

After Rob’s passing, there were tasks to tend to and pieces to put in order. There were tears that needed to be shed and memories—so many memories—to sift through. Life became a quilt, full of frayed edges and bright, painful patches of color.

And, beneath all that, there was the call of the coyote, whispering still, urging me into the hills, into the wide green world, and calling me back to this realm.

The time has come to follow that call, to let my feet carry me into the wild places where freedom and possibility live side by side.

I named my business Wildpreneur^TM because there is something powerful about combining that sense of the untamed—the longing for open spaces—with the creativity and resilience of entrepreneurship. It is about building a life that honors our wildest dreams and our everyday needs, about crafting a world that respects our humanity and the quiet call of our hearts.

We are each crafting our own ecosystems, tending to the connections that nourish us, and building something lasting out of kindness and compassion. It’s about creating arks—not only for ourselves but for those around us—where we can weather the storms and build a future deeply rooted in what truly matters.

I am ready now, ready to run with the coyotes, ready to share the ways of the Wild with others in a way I haven’t before. I want to have open-hearted conversations and talk about what I have learned over these last fourteen years—about marketing, resilience, and finding your path even when the road seems lost. I have been an online marketing consultant and a marketing director for New York Times bestselling authors and coaches, and there is much to share and explore together.

We will gather once a month on the first Tuesday. Our first call will be on November 5th at 3pm ET—I’ll send out the Zoom details the day before the event. 

The call will be free and open to everyone in November; after that, it will be for those who choose to support this journey on Substack.

Come with your questions, hopes, and open hearts, ready to run into the wild places on November 5. If you can’t make the call but want to send me your questions ahead of time, you can email them to: [email protected].

I can’t wait to see you there!