Clean Living.

Almost every week for the last five years, I’ve been writing these posts.  I’ve mentioned this before, but it bears repeating: I write them because I need them.  I don’t presume you or anyone will read them, let alone actually enjoy them.  If for some reason they resonate, I’m truly honored, but more than that, I’m aware that this is because you already know and value their message deep inside you.  I’m not telling you anything new and profound--perhaps just reminding.

There’s a Bible verse, or phrase really, I grew up loving, “As deep calls to deep…”  I’m not going to pretend to know or explain what that means in a Biblical context, yet I know what it means to you and I here.

When you feel resonance with a message, a quote, a song, or a walk in nature, it’s because the goodness of that truth and beauty already lives inside you.  It’s a powerful energetic match being made. A sacred hallelujah! Or Aha!  It’s the stuff we own.  The stuff we honor.  The stuff of value we savor and protect deep inside.

It’s proof we’re all invited and interwoven into the rich tapestry of Grace.

Something I’ve been savoring lately is the beauty of simplicity and brevity.  It’s an invitation into the now—that clean moment of consciousness—of fullness.  Sure, it comes and goes in an instant, yet we are there.  We are all there (if we want to be).  

The abundance of that moment gently collapses over into the next like a domino.  These moments are clean because they keep us tethered to reality, not somewhere in the past or future, both of which are tempting but tough to hold onto like a slick fish flailing for its freedom.

Creativity, though messy, happens in the fullness of the clean present.  A massive part of my healing has been the creative process, namely writing.  I’m convinced it’s part of your journey too.  

And yes,  I’m calling your bluff as you roll your eyes and silently retreat, “But I’m not creative!”  

Back it up.  

Part of your birthright as a human being is to make stuff, whether that’s a story, a way out, a pie, a speech, or a plan.  You’re a born maker!  

I believe a big part of waking up to the gorgeous truth of who we are is owning that creative birthright, and in doing so, moving from consumer to creator.  

So what?  Well, I want to co-create with you.  I want to start conversations here that are short, meaningful, and most of all applicable for you in your now.  I want to give you back some time to go get your hands dirty with intention.  

I don’t want to walk through life in a sleepy haze.  I don’t want to survive or dial it in.  I want to crush it. Don’t you?

If you answered yes to that question (hopefully with feeling), you’re in the right place.  

We’re going to be streamlining the weekly blog to give you more time, more tools, and hopefully more inspiration to start creating more of what you love.  

You ready? 

Love & Gratitude,
Katie 

Looking for Purpose? Start Here....

I'm a big advocate for the sacred process of finding your voice—and courageously learning to use it.

In my experience, slowly crossing the threshold of confidence into the land of self-compassion and acceptance gave me this newfound freedom and excitement to be heard and seen.

It’s kind of like waking up on Christmas morning as a kid, getting that one cherished toy you’d been asking for but thought your folks probably forgot…but then they came through. All you want to do is keep it close and show it off.  You love everyone, even your younger brother. The world is a beautiful place. You’re so proud and you can’t stop talking about it.

It may annoy people for a minute, and that’s okay, they’ll get over it…they love you too.

What I quickly learned is in order to truly find your voice and speak from that sacred heart space, you must first learn to listen really closely and often.

I love what Parker Palmer says in one of my all-time favorite books on finding your calling, Let Your Life Speak (a must read if you haven’t already…super short too).

He says, “Before I can tell my life what I want to do with it, I must listen to my life telling me who I am.” 

Sounds esoteric, right?  I actually think it’s us who overcomplicate things.

To create, we must get still and present. We must lean into the unknown. We must…listen.

Just as a flower grows and blooms from a tiny seed, you and I have everything we need to thrive locked safely inside us. Sure, we may need to nurture that part of us with inspiration and encouragement, but I assure you, it’s all in there.

As a species, humans are created to thrive and succeed, not to merely survive. Our creative imaginations are what set us apart from other species. Inside of you, there is a creative mechanism that is fully capable of getting you from merely existing to succeeding.

That’s right, you get to create the life you love.

What happens so often though, is that we get lazy, want to be told what to do, and as a result, autopilot through life. No wonder we wake up in our mid-thirties or forties with a serious purpose deficiency and a bad back in search of a pill or a promise that will make us feel alive again.  

We’ve not been listening. We’ve been busy, hustling, fitting in.

We all fall somewhere on this spectrum of finding our voice. Maybe you have recently unlocked this stunning, shiny voice of yours and you really like using it. The test drive is intoxicating. Or, perhaps you're  completely shut down, confusing everyone else’s demands and desires with your own. You’re exhausted and maybe even a bit resentful.  

Either way, the next best step is to slow down, take several very deep breaths, and simply listen. Feel your feet on the floor and your spine growing up from your seat. Notice the sensations inside your body; they’re talking alright. Give the tension a little time-out; you can pick her up in just a minute.

This is your true self. This is the space free of ego. This is where, with some practice, your life will speak to you in profound and sweet ways. This is the power of presence inside of you. It’s the magnificent Motherload. Let’s give it a listen.

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

xoxo 

Bossa Nova, the Beatles, and the Problem with Perfection

I was driving the other day.  For some reason, I couldn’t get the bluetooth on my phone to connect with the car’s sound system, so I found myself listening to the Beatles station on XM radio.  I’ve been in a podcast haze for the last several months, and despite my affinity for them, was needing a bit of melody in my heart and body to balance out all that heightened cognitive consumption.  

I didn’t grow up on the Beatles mind you.  Sure, both my parents were musicians, yet they didn’t really grow up on the Beatles either.  It wasn’t their thing.  They (and as a result, I) grew up on jazz, namely, the Bossa Nova brand.  I’m not mad about it either.  

My Beatles education comes from my husband.  As a drummer, producer, and the biggest music nerd I’ve ever met, he’s constantly schooling me about the legendary imprint those fab four left on the world.  I’m grateful for this and always trying to listen for another layer of genius each time I hear one of their songs.  

Back to the other day...I had one of those “aha” moments in the car on my way back from Target.  You ready for this?  

We absolutely can’t entertain the creative process and perfectionism in the same room, let alone breathe.  They are distinct enemies and hate each other’s guts.  

Why?  Creativity is messy and takes loads of courage and curiosity.  Perfectionism depends on control and reeks of fear.   Creativity requires letting go in order to trust a higher, more vulnerable process.  Perfectionism is an excuse we give ourselves as to why we stay stuck in the need for certainty.  Really, it’s just a scared man’s game.  There’s nothing virtuous or noble about perfectionism.  It’s a total sham.  

If you listen back to some of Bossa Nova’s most magical moments, you’ll undoubtedly find two central characters, Astrud Gilberto & Antonio Carlos Jobim (well three…Stan Getz).  You know what you will not find?  Autotune, a thing they use in modern music production that can take your tone deaf 82-year-old grandmother and make her sound like Brandi Carlisle.  It’s like photoshopping a recording.  

Guess what?  There was no photoshopping the Beatle’s either.  Despite their masterful, tight sound, what makes it so good and authentic is the quirky, jangly, and quintessential English flavor we know and love.  It’s all them.  As I listened to In My Life, a total favorite, I was reminded of the simple wizardry hidden all throughout.  Likewise with Corcovado, a classic Getz/Gilberto tune.  Both, in my estimation, are iconic complete with endearing pitchiness, that yummy analog warmth, and an energy that’s palpable—breathable.  

Anything worth doing is worth doing poorly.  I’ve clung tightly to this mantra for years.  If you are waiting to write the perfect book, give a pristine presentation, release a musical masterpiece, or develop the fanciest website for your business before you ever put yourself out there, you’ve already missed a great opportunity.  It’s the opportunity to find your voice and begin using it despite the nervous, wobbly first couple hundred efforts.  Also, it’s the opportunity to be known.  

It’s true. You and I may never make jazz or rock n’ roll history.  However, as  human beings born to create (and yes, you are highly creative no matter what you think), we have a responsibility to live courageously in the direction of our dreams.  It’s what separates us from animals—this ability to make up stories and all sorts of other stuff.  It gives us meaning.  It gives us purpose.  Purpose, after all, is the opposite of depression, not happiness like we tend to assume.  

The world doesn’t want your perfection, it wants you.  Ask yourself what it is you would do, create, or be today if fear was not an option.  What’s that treasure hidden deep inside you? 

Got it?  Go write it down.  Every detail you can muster.  You know what?  You’re already one step closer.  I dare you to take one more.  Go fall flat on your face and get back up.  Take another. That’s called courage.  And that, my friend, is more than perfect…it’s everything.

Love & Gratitude,
Katie  

Why You Keep Overcommitting

I used to be a lot sweeter.  I used to say yes most of the time.  I used to jam pack my days into nights with everything from coffee/lunch meetings to work (obvi) to school to long phone conversations with friends in need to shows and dinners and…you get it—contained chaos.  

I worked so hard, yet simultaneously complained about feeling overwhelmed with little to show for it.  “What gives?”  I’d wonder this to myself more days than not.

Around age 34, I woke up to a cold, hard realization. It wasn’t pretty either.  I realized I was overcommitting to others out of fear and obligation and in the process, underserving myself.  I was playing small in my life due to one of two possible self-diagnoses (or probably both):

1) FOMO (fear of missing out) 

2) FOBA (fear of being alone)

Basically, fear and scarcity were running the show, which is really about self-worth, not time-management.  

I would drop everything to help others actualize their dreams, but when it came to pushing mine forward, I was the one missing in action.  I’d rather procrastinate the deep work of creating my vision in order to pick up the pieces for others around me.  It was an immediate, (if not false) hit of belonging straight to the old ego.  

I also found I wasn’t as sweet as I’d been letting on.  Behind the saccharine-laced veil, I was cynical and resentful, constantly comparing myself to others and critical of my inability to make something happen.    

So, I started making some changes.  I got more honest…less sweet.  I started taking forensic inventory as to what I wanted and shifted my priorities around to facilitate those things.  You know what I wanted? To be seen, heard, and to affect change in the world.  Baby step after baby step, I started waking up to these desires—and honoring them.  After all, no one else could ever do this for me.  Sure, I could put support in place, but I had to do the work.  And this “work" actually smelled like joy. 

Bumpy at best, I’m still on the journey, yet I’ve found greater congruence and confidence in this new way.  I’ve also found tons more time to appropriate to the meaningful relationships that matter most to me.  

Oh, but there’s something else you should know.  A reckoning of sorts took place.  That hit I mentioned earlier? Well, at the core of all my “overwhelm” that kept me spinning out of control was a gaping hole I was desperately trying to fill: my needs for love, acceptance, and belonging. 

I woke up to the unflattering reality that I was spread so thin in an effort to get these core needs met, and in the process, abandoned myself and my desires altogether leaving a bad aftertaste of resentment and utter discouragement.  

If you find yourself constantly overcommitting and overwhelmed, I’ve got good news for you: You can step off the treadmill at any time.  You can choose something different—something resonant and true for you.  But,  in order to see your dreams become reality, you must be willing to let go of some extra baggage:

1) The belief that other people need you more than you need you

2) Saying yes to too many social obligations to be nice and fit in

3) Staying busy to avoid your needs and desires

4) Toxic relationships that breed self-doubt 

5) Any reason that convinces you you don’t have what it takes (aka fear)

6) Comparison with others (Is all that screen time really necessary?)

7) Playing the victim when setbacks arise (and they will)

My hunch is, you want to be seen too.  I sure hope so—it's your birthright! You weren’t created to hide behind the agendas of other people.  You weren’t created to be nice.  You weren’t even created to be liked.  Let’s face it, you’re not for everyone.  You were created to be the most beautiful, bold, and true YOU imaginable.  Oh, she’s in there, alright.  And she’s a force of nature.  Yes, we need to see her.… 

Love & Gratitude,
Katie

The Hospitality of Emotion

I love hosting dinner parties– the planning, shopping, prepping, pairing, cooking, connecting, eating, lingering– hell, I don’t even mind the clean up so much.  I’m pretty sure my most domestic moments happen in the kitchen. (Laundry? Not my gig, much to my husband’s chagrin.)  For me, cooking has always been a creative as well as a therapeutic outlet for me.  For a hot minute in my mid-twenties, I toyed with the thought of culinary school.  In my short-lived career as a sous chef at a local wine bar/cafe, I found that cooking on someone else’s watch for people I couldn’t actually connect with was a deal breaker. It hijacked the joy for me. 

I eventually discovered two real driving passions behind my love for all things culinary: the connection that happens around it and the creativity had in the process (oh, and there is that eating thing as well).  Hence, this favorite past time of mine—throwing dinner parties.  I get a buzz just thinking about it.  

We live in a world on crack–a world jacked up and in a constant crazed state of busy, exhausted, immediacy, devices, and traffic–all set to repeat.  Hospitality has become a lost art because it forces us to slow down and do things that can't be automated and/or bypassed by hitting the nearest Chipotle or even the newest foodie hot spot on the scene.  As a result, we lose out on a beautiful process that facilitates good old-fashioned, real-time connection, intimacy, and laughter.

This past Saturday evening, myself and five other ladies hosted a wedding celebration at my house. Having an outdoor sit-down dinner party in the young days of November in Nashville is like betting your life savings at a craps table in Vegas. It’s risky, if not ludicrous. 

Much to our amazement, God flexed his creative muscles and painted the most magical fall scape one could possibly ask or pray for.  The wind, cold, and rain came to a precise halt.  The sun-drenched rolling hills popped with a smattering of brick, gold, and orange.  The burn your-eyes-out blue sky held on patiently all the way up to sunset.  Between the outdoor heaters, cozy blankets strewn on every other chair, and the roaring conversation and laughter, we stayed warm well into the night.  It was delicious and lovely complete with clinking glasses, a stained table runner, and hours of clean up the next morning.  Perhaps my favorite part of the evening was the interesting mix of friends who came, both new and old.  Stories were shared, intimate toasts given, and wild connections were made.  It was truly a magical evening.  

As I sat back contentedly and observed conversations happening across the table, glasses being filled, fall flavors offering up their glory, something occurred to me...something big.

Why can’t we learn to practice hospitality internally with our own full cast of emotions? What if, we welcomed them openly, leaning in to the complex story they are trying to tell instead of handing them the keys to our misery?  I’ve been intrigued by this idea ever since, playing around with it in my head and heart…and I like it.

Emotions are a gift if you can believe it.  I sure didn’t for long stretches of my existence.  I always thought emotions had all the power, dictating the success of any given day from the moment my eyeballs popped open in the morning.  I used to feel totally powerless over my emotions, especially anxiety, she was a loud and clumsy beast.  What I have come to learn and embrace with open arms, and a big fat sigh of relief, is that my emotions are not who I am.  I am not my anxiety, sadness, hurt, depression, etc. 

They are also not against me.  Of course, there are more enjoyable ones we feel such as glad and excited; we tend to coddle them like spoiled children.  Then there are negative feeling ones such as guilt and anger we attempt to avoid like loud, messy roommates. However, the truth is they all invite us to the greater wisdom of our needs and desires.  Our emotions are a gift nudging us towards a more colorful, expansive experience.  

Just as the generous practice of hospitality beckons deeper connection and understanding of our unique perspectives and experiences across a dinner table, the inner landscape of our feelings long for a space to be heard.  How will we host these voices, facilitating a curious exchange, an open conversation?  Here are a couple of questions to ask them when they chime in, with their often abrasive tone.

What am I feeling?  Sad, hurt, fear, anger, lonely, guilt, glad?  Naming it identifies and externalizes it.  

Where do I feel this feeling in my body?  (Our body’s center of intelligence houses emotions just as our heart’s center does.)

What is the story you are trying to tell me?  i.e “I am afraid I don’t have what it takes to succeed, I'm not enough”.  “I am guilty because I spoke harshly to my co-worker”.

What is the need attached to the emotion? i.e. “I need some encouragement and affirmation, ” or “I need to apologize for reacting at work. I was pretty fried and took it out on Sarah.”

How will I meet that need?  i.e. Reach out to a trusted friend or have a conversation to set the record straight, etc…

Emotional hospitality removes unnecessary shame from our internal experience by letting light and air into dingy, dusty corners of our beings.  It swings wide open the door of our heart and places a fresh mix of flowers on the table, welcoming deeper connection and cohesion.  It nourishes our beings to live with presence and generosity.  When we are willing to curiously experiment with each and every emotion, engaging it like we would a stranger at a dinner party, we gain new insight and perspective.  We hear a new story.  If we listen closely enough, we may even hear our own story.  

Love & Gratitude,
Katie