Take Me to Church

I grew up in a LOT of church.  For years, I even played music professionally in church both as a singer and worship leader.  

We grow up learning to value and live by belief systems passed down to us from the cultures we grow up in.  For me, this was steeped in Evangelical church culture as my parents were both involved in ministry for as long as I can remember.  This was my “first structure,” as Richard Rohr defines it in one of my favorite books about the spiritual journey called Falling Upward.  This initial infrastructure for belief informed most of mine and our family’s early life. I’m eternally grateful for it.

However, part of the self and truth-discovery process always involves holding those first, hand-me-down values up to the light to grapple with and establish our own set of convictions and beliefs.  Often they are an extension of those early establishments but sometimes, they take on an entirely different tone.  Stepping into our truth is an ongoing process and one that involves doubt, questioning, discomfort, time, debate, and a generous helping of self-compassion—on repeat.  

I say all this only because my spiritual landscape has not included church much at all in the last several years.  Instead, I’ve found a soft landing pad in the arms of rest, nature, loving relationships, and plenty of downtime time (involving books, a journal, and the glorious drip of caffeine).  Going church-rogue has honestly felt expansive, and at the same time like I’m missing out.  On what?  Keep reading….

So the same is true for live shows and funerals.  I know, weird. Despite the fact that I didn’t grow up going to a ton of concerts or funerals, I’ve developed a bit of laziness around both.  I mean come on, you may know exactly what I mean if you spent most of your twenties and early thirties at a late night show in a packed, dark, and often smelly venue somewhere in Nashville.  

Maybe I’m just getting old and cynical, but these days I’d rather stay home, cook dinner, take a bath, and get some serious shut-eye.  Don’t get me wrong; music is a big part of my life…it’s with the getting out part that I’m on the struggle bus.  

I may have a pounding shame hangover after admitting this next one, but I shy away from funerals too.  Of course, not if it’s a family member or loved one (I’m not a monster.)  I’m talking about the ones where I wouldn’t be missed if I didn’t show.  My thoughts regarding these are typically, “I don’t want to crowd or add any additional stress for the family” and “Do they really want me there?  I’ll just be in the way.”  

And then there is that obvious element of deep pain and fear I have surrounding this minor little fact of life called mortality.  Let’s face it; it’s easier to simply opt out.  

Or is it?

Why do church, concerts, and funerals matter so much?  In an oversimplified nutshell, here’s why:

Beyond belief, beyond preference, beyond discomfort, we MUST find ways to show up and place our unique thumbprint on this undeniably grounding root system of collective human connection by touching moments of joy and pain.  

There is enough bad news cycling each day thanks to 24-hour news.  You get it; good news is slim pickins’.  But the worst thing in the world is for me to throw my hands up, peace out, and judge the world through my disconnected lens of comfort, isolation, and cynicism.  

 In Braving the Wilderness, Dr. Brene Brown renders,

 “We’re in a spiritual crisis, and the key to building a true belonging practice is maintaining our belief in inextricable human connection.  That connection-the spirit that flows between us and every other human in the world-is not something that can be broken; however, our belief in the connection is constantly tested and repeatedly severed.  When our belief that there’s something greater than us, something rooted in love and compassion, breaks, we are more likely to retreat to our bunkers, to hate from afar, to tolerate bullshit, to dehumanize others, and, ironically, to stay out of the wilderness.”

She later shares the key to maintaining this belief and connection to humanity lies in our willingness to show up for collective moments of joy and pain so that we can witness this stunning human connectedness.  

We brand into our bones the hope of human connection when we show up for moments of joy and pain alongside fellow travelers.  Sure, we’re all unique when you zoom in close, but if we zoom out with a wide-angle lens, we see the remarkable footprint of humanity—a desire to belong.

It’s being moved to tears beholding a stadium full of people singing the National Anthem.  It’s holding the hand of a grieving stranger sitting next to you in the pew on Sunday morning. It’s screaming “with or without you” at the top of your lungs when U2 comes through town.  For me, especially around this time of year, it’s leaving the Nutcracker ballet for the twentieth time completely inspired alongside all the other frustrated ballerina’s in the room that will dream of Sugarplum Fairies for days.

These moments all feel like church to me.  I’m going.  Who’s with me? 

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

Changing the Conversation: Insight from Brené Brown

“Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.”  

-Rumi

Despite the evil display of hate crimes and bigotry in Charlottesville this past week, I’m still convinced we live in a loving universe.

Wait, before you look away in discomfort or write this post off as a political rant, stay with me.

We’re not going there today.

This post is really about relationships and at the core of any loving relationship is healthy communication.  I didn’t say easy communication…I said healthy communication.  This often takes shape in the form of hard conversations.

I had a lovely little number in the hopper for you today about the mind-body connection and just how important our life force of breath is to that mix.  However, after watching such horrific and seemingly dated images of racism, hatred, and violence; my heart has felt confused and my vision—very blurry.

In my bubble of what I now know of as privilege, I made up a story in my head that we were somehow past this as a nation.  Wrong.  It’s been simmering beneath the surface at a slow and steady boil all along.

While waiting to board a flight back to Nashville yesterday in Los Angeles, I numbly scrolled down my Facebook feed looking for something, I’m not sure what.

I came across a Facebook Live recording of Brené Brown entitled “We need to keep talking about Charlottesville.”  “Thank God,” I mumbled under my breath, “I need some direction here.” And from who better than a woman who has spent her life researching, writing, and teaching us all about shame and vulnerability.

Friends, these are critical times we can’t simply detach from or sleep through.  The root system of fear is so expansive and insidious, yet the power to effect change through our awareness and empathy is truly phenomenal.

We won’t get there with shame, as Dr. Brown shares.  We will get there by owning our stories and having thoughtful and open conversations.  They may feel uncomfortable and very imperfect and that’s okay.  I’m learning a lot these days about leaning into uncertainty and discomfort.

If you’ve thought to yourself this last several days, “What is my part in this complex and harsh reality unfolding before our eyes in Charlottesville?”, I’ve got some answers. (Well, technically, Brené Brown does.)

Please take 30 minutes and watch this video linked below.  Share it with friends.  It’s a humbling truth and a hopeful invitation to own our part in this fear-based meta story of hostility.

This is very much about you and I.  It’s about being human.  It’s about relating better to your loved ones and changing the conversation from judgement to accountability — from fear to trust.

I’d love to know your thoughts regarding her insight as well as how you’re conversations are unfolding in your spheres of influence.  *Be prepared, there’s a bit of language in this video, but I know you’ll see past that. 

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

xoxo

P.S.  Stay tuned next week for a VERY special guest on my podcast who has the privilege of knowing and working with Brené Brown.  I’ll be announcing who this is early next week!  Eep!

(Video) Lessons from Vegas: Leaning into Uncertainty

 It really is possible to thrive amid uncertainty. It’s not about getting advice you can trust; it’s about faith and self-trust — believing that whatever happens, you’ll find a way through it.

Brené Brown

LAS VEGAS

This past week I spent some time out in Las Vegas for the ACM awards. For whatever reason, I’d never been before. Perhaps because I’m typically not too into gambling, excess, and total escape from reality. Okay, okay, maybe I’m being harsh.
Truth be told, I found myself in Observer Heaven. The people watching alone filled up my tank for a nice long while. It was an experience to remember and I brought back a couple of insights to chew on as well.

I noticed several things about our fascinating human race, two in particular:
1) We are desperately looking to have fun. Seems obvious enough, right? Maybe. Or maybe we just aren’t having enough fun in our everyday lives so we go binge on it in Vegas a couple of times a year. Whatever the case, I’m reminded that just like cultivating celebration in our daily lives, we need to nurture that little kid inside who longs to simply have fun. We don’t need to get permission from Vegas to do so either. We could save some serious cash by simply practicing this sense of play and curiosity in our daily experience. Yes, we need to play more, friends.

2) We must lean into uncertainty in order to live authentically and fully alive. We are naturally wired for certainty, so this often feels unnatural and awkward. We even get a dopamine hit when we complete a perfect, concentric circle of certainty in our brains. Brene Brown unpacks this notion beautifully in her latest book, Rising Strong.

LEANING INTO UNCERTAINTY

In Vegas, people are leaning into uncertainty as they risk their hard-earned money in those dark, fun-houses called casinos. They don’t blink an eye; they want to win.
I want to learn from this and practice a similar risk taking in my everyday experience. No, it doesn’t include a slot machine or roulette table. I’m talking about risking the cozy boxes of certainty in basic, daily decisions of life. It’s scary and uncomfortable for sure–most unfamiliar things are, however, we’ll typically find growth and opportunity on the other side.

So, this week’s lessons from Vegas include having more fun and leaning into the great big unknown without having to get on a plane or spend a dime. Who’s with me?

Until next time, have a wonderful week!

Love & Gratitude,

Katie
xoxo

P.S. If you know someone who might like some extra support and encouragement, I’d love for you to invite them on this journey by forwarding this email or signing them up here.

Adele: Lessons from the Other Side

Before we get going, I thought it only fair to circle back around to my last post and cut all that paralyzing suspense regarding my test last Tuesday. Drumroll, please…. I passed!!!!! EEP! This is good news for us both I can assure you as I’ll move on, quit my moaning, and focus on far more interesting things for us to talk about here.  I didn’t realize how heavy a burden the whole process has been throughout the last 18 months.  The stress of it bled over into other cracks of life, sucking away energy, ease, and time I’d forgotten I had.  So, after taking a week off the blog for some much-needed self-care and rest, I feel massive relief and anticipation for more creative space to play around with other projects I’m ready to push forward.

Persevere

Despite feeling the gravity of this seeming detour, I learned an invaluable lesson through it all: Perseverance develops emotional muscles that will serve us well in every area of life, even when the task at hand seems unrelated and dispassionate to our calling. This post isn’t about perseverance in that respect though, it’s about Adele…so let’s get to it.

Date

I had the distinct pleasure of tagging along with my husband to the Grammy’s this past Sunday night in LA.  Despite his infinite cool,  he humors me as I show up each year with an arsenal of crazy shoes, dresses, and fake eye lashes like I’m nominated for an award or something.  I’ve never taken home one of those awards, however, I always leave the week with loads of shiny inspiration, new ideas, and an awakened dreamer inside.

YouTube

This year was no exception.  In fact, I was so moved by the raw combination of Adele’s truth-telling and talent, I felt the need to write what I saw, in hopes of somehow branding it into my being.  If you didn’t see her performance or acceptance speech(es), YouTube those babies.  They’ll warm your heart. Oh, and, forgive the spoiler for which you are about to receive.

Outlier

She’s always been an outlier in my mind: a seamless talent, a young-old-soul, and a powerful message well-balanced with a shock of mess.  She’s swooped in twice now for most pop music consumers, both times offering us heavy hitting albums five years apart quite simply titled “21” and “25.”   As that thick cockney accent cuts through the trough of tears shed, she cleans house, claiming most if not every Grammy she’s slated for.  I’d say those are pretty good odds.

Chocolate

On the flight home late Tuesday night between the spotty Southwest wi-fi and my fistful of Valentine’schocolate, I couldn’t get her out of my head, so I jotted down a few lessons she’s taught me over the years, especially this past Sunday night.

1.) Be You

Seems obvious, right?  I don’t think so.  Maybe it’s LA, or the entertainment industry, or my own ego that I can feel expand in order to compensate in a room full of über talented people.  Whatever it is, Adele seems to be immune to the insidious pressure to conform.  I’m sure she’s got her demons just like the best of them, however, she knows who she is and what she does well, and she does it– like a Boss. With steady opinions from all sides to be this and that, to look a certain way, and perhaps to diversify, she’s unapologetically steady in who she is.  It’s a breath of fresh air in an industry full of people hustling hard to show up in just the right light.  She just “is” and it’s simply stunning—magnetic.

Version

Do you ever feel like you’re hustling to live up to some unrealistic version of you?  I do.  Next time it happens, take a step back and remember this:  you’re in a league of your own—no one else in the world will do when it comes to being you.  Own it.  When I listen to Adele sing, I don’t want to hear Katy Perry, I want Adele!  (Though I do love me some KP).  Good news: there’s more than enough room at the table for the unique gifts we each bring and a scarcity mindset is totally unnecessary.

2.) Don’t Be Afraid to Start Over

I remember playing a gig in the mecca of downtown Franklin a couple of years back.  I hadn’t been practicing much and I didn’t really know one of the songs I was meant to play. Being the queen of wing it, I confidently, (read: blindly), walked right into a train wreck, having to start that song over halfway through.  It was awful.  I felt so much shame and embarrassment and desperately wantedto go hide under a rock for the next couple of months.  Umm, there were probably 25 people there, tops.  Really?

Hero

When Adele stopped her George Michael tribute on music’s biggest night in order to start the song over, I wanted to do back flips all the way up to the stage and hug her ever deserving neck.  It’s the same shame, yet on vastly different platforms.  She risked being rejected in order to do what she knew she needed to do.  Courage does not exclude fear, it embraces it and keeps going.  Heroes personify courage and we live in a culture desperately searching for heroes.  I believe this is a big reason Adele stole our hearts in the first place.

Pride

We must not let pride keep us from slowing down, re-assessing, and starting over when we need to be it in a creative endeavor, an unhealthy relationship,  or a work project we’ve been unsuccessfully pushing uphill.   If Adele can mess up and start over for all the world to see, I’m pretty sure you and I can in our own way as well.

3.) Lead with your Heart

As if it were even possible to love her more than I already did, she then managed to pull out that unforgettable and disarming final acceptance speech for Album of the Year.

It was a tough call.  She was up against Beyoncé’s fiercely creative “Lemonade”, and she literally didn’t want to accept it as she felt her competition had been robbed.  We didn’t get a tidy, calculated, speech thanking all the big wigs in the room.  Instead, we got an off-the-cuff love letter to her hero, complete with blubbering tears and that quintessential F-bomb we’ve become endearingly familiar with.  She could’ve used those valuable minutes to further her cause, or better yet, get political.  Instead, she led with her heart, honoring the influential genius of Beyoncé, who’s work and life highly impacted every facet of her experience, including the admittedly broken one of motherhood.

Ego

Constantly choosing to tap into love instead of fear helps us detach from ego and get out of our own way. Ego is always divisive.  It puffs up, separating us from our true self because we’re afraid our true self isn’t enough.  Vulnerably, Adele continues to model that, and a starving world devours every last crumb.

Model

Vulnerability is a scary thing, after all, as we inevitably risk rejection and abandonment.  What I’m seeing though, is it’s the only way to truly be known and loved.  This week, let’s follow Adele’s lead and see what happens.  You never know, we may give another caged soul the freedom to show up— messy, imperfect, and un-rehearsed.  I want to be apart of that revolution.

love & gratitude,

katie

xoxo

The Stories We Tell

When we deny our stories, they define us. When we own our stories, we get to write the ending.

-Brené Brown, Rising Strong

I’m about to tell you something you may not have considered about yourself; perhaps something you are completely unaware of.  Despite being introverted, extroverted, highly entertaining, or completely terrified of public speaking, this truth remains. You ready for this?

You are an excellent storyteller.

That’s right. You are an excellent storyteller!  Now, this may look a little different from the quintessential, Garrison Keillor archetype you envision; but it’s true. You make up stories all day long every day and tell those stories to yourself, albeit subconsciously and involuntarily.  These stories directly affect the decisions you make, the relationships you build, the behavioral patterns you lock into, and the emotions you experience.

Lessons from a four-way stop

Consider this: when was the last time someone rubbed you the wrong way? This can be someone you know well or merely a frustrating experience with a total stranger. For example, Monday I was headed to the office and pulled up to a four way stop in my neighborhood. Mind you, I was off to a great start: Coffee in hand, morning workout behind me, NPR rocking, I even had time to blow dry my hair which is rare. It tends to be shove down some breakfast or blow dry my hair, you know? Breakfast always wins. I love breakfast. Anyway, life was good and the morning gods smiled upon me…

I did not have the right of way. The SUV that did was stopped at the stop sign, about to proceed normally through the intersection as I waited to go next. All good.  Well, an older gentleman in a fancy silver sedan pulled up to the stop sign on my right, in line to go after me. While the SUV made its way through the intersection, I noticed the guy to my right  violently flailing his hands about and passionately yelling with an angry edge and plenty of volume, all while looking directly at me across the way as if I had just insulted his mother in really bad taste.

What the ?? Who is this guy and why on earth is he pissed at me? I immediately began telling myself a story that went something like this: Here I am minding my own business and obeying traffic laws while this angry person wakes up on the wrong side of the bed,  apparently feeling the need to go postal on me and ruin my morning. What’s the deal? What have I done? Is he CRAZY?!? Am I CRAZY?!?

Despite total bewilderment due to this unfounded attack, I sped off in a huff and had a bad attitude for the next hour. Whoa.  Not only am I a storyteller, I am apparently a pretty competent one!

Power Play

Okay, so what’s the point? How is this newfound identity as storyteller a crucial piece of awareness in our daily experience?  There is incredible power and creative license that accompanies the role of storyteller.  While we have minimal control over other people, world events, changing paradigms; what happens to us, we have total control over the meaning we appropriate and apply to them.

The story I tell myself about what is happening around me is the color I choose to paint life’s canvas with.
My road-raging friend from Monday may have been on speaker phone with his wife (God, I hope not) or perhaps just received some devastating news and saw me as a worthy, temporary, and safe emotional punching bag.  I will never know.

What I do know is we create narratives in the absence of information in order to complete a circle of certainty. As humans, we are hard wired this way. Our brains need to connect the dots in order to file away some semblance of meaning.  Its pure biology…survival.
In Brene Brown’s Rising Strong, we learn about a neurologist and writer called Robert Burton who explains that “our brains reward us with dopamine when we recognize and complete patterns.  Stories are patters.  The brain recognizes the familiar beginning-middle-end structure of a story and rewards us for clearing up the ambiguity.  Unfortunately, we don’t need to be accurate, just certain.”

Narrative Therapy

I believe this innate hardwiring we have as storytellers explains our ongoing cultural fascination with narrative; the most epic of enactments: good vs. evil. (Insert your favorite trilogy here; or Star Wars, duh.) Stories are sustenance promoting physiological, ideological, artistic, and civic viability.
As a writer and therapist I truly love facilitating this process in my work through narrative therapy.
In narrative therapy, we create stories about ourselves that redeem, empower, and promote healing. Despite our broken and disjointed past, the narrative approach enables a new co-authored story to set the stage for a hopeful reality. When we live out of a worthy self-concept, the story of our life takes on significance and abundance.

The Edit

What stories are you telling yourself today?  Chances are, there are some really compelling ones that you like to listen to a lot.  What kind of experience do these stories promote? This week, I challenge you to observe, write down, and edit them if they do not serve your process well. This is where the fun begins, my friends. This is where we get to drive that storytelling ship into hauntingly beautiful and uncharted waters. Pick up your pencil; your time is now.