As most stories that begin with a guy sitting alone at a bar, it’s usually about a woman; this time at least… it was about interviewing one. While waiting, I took out my little black book and started scribbling down descriptions of that which was around me.

With a booming thud, the drum group begins playing traditional Native American dance music. The group’s singers belt out Lakota (Sioux) lyrics as a woman dressed in regalia begins performing a jingle dance. The bells and metal on her dress create a melodic rhythm, sending energy to spirits as she moves in a circle.

There is a conversation to be had about mental health that hasn’t happened yet. Not anywhere in all the earth has it happened to any degree of merit because the person that needs to have it, has yet to have had it. That which could be said to assuage the tyranny of the inner workings of the soul could be written in a book or on a billboard, but its effect is entirely wasted.

Leading a horse by its reigns, Megan Dannelly holds on with one hand while trying to control several balls with words on them, like mother, soldier, friend and volunteer, in the other. She attempts to complete a lap without dropping any of the balls, but is unsuccessful. One falls out of her arms. Then another. Soon, balls lay scattered in the dirt.