Ordinary Things — Lessons from Graham Nash

This past week, Nashville did her thing and hosted the Americana Fest.  Living in Nashville for over twenty years now, I often find myself taking Music City (and sometimes music in general) for granted what with all the insane talent boiling over at every turn.  Hell, you can even hear some pretty first-class country covers the second you deplane at BNA.  Yep, the airport Tootsies will nearly have you convinced 99.99% of this town can carry a tune.  

Friday night was special in that I fell in love with songs all over again and was reminded just how vital story really is. I had the honor of accompanying my better half to a live recorded tribute to the incomparable Graham Nash. The night featured him as well as other established and burgeoning talent, all offering their versions of some of his most memorable tunes. 

His second skin embodiment of the sounds he creates blows me away.  You simply can’t separate him from his music; you’d be dismembering a limb of sorts.  If you’ve ever seen him live, you know his passion and reverence for the craft is unmistakably palpable.

Perhaps my favorite part of the show was hearing the story behind his song, Our House, Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young’s smash hit.  It seems I’ve become just as mesmerized if not more by where songs come from as I am the song itself.  

In his charming British way, Graham (just going to go ahead and assume we’d be pals) recalls a lovely if uncharacteristic blustery, grey Los Angeles afternoon with his then live-in girlfriend, Joni Mitchell—naturally.

He wryly renders “oftentimes songs come from the most ordinary of experiences,” you know, like a Saturday afternoon shopping jaunt with ordinary people like Joni Mitchell?!

He had us all engaged, leaning in, smiling and hungrily eating out of his hand. Apparently, Joni had found a quirky little antique vase for a steal and was eager to put it to good use.  Upon their return home, he turns to her contentedly and urges, “I’ll light a fire, and you should go put some flowers in that vase you found just now…”  An hour later she returns with an arrangement to find Graham wrapping up a classic.  And so, the conception of a song—no big deal.

This post is not about songwriting or Graham Nash for that matter.  It’s about you and the story you believe about your value.  The day after the show I turned to my husband Daniel and said, “You know, he’s had thousands of opportunities to dial in that Joni Mitchell story. It’s so good and clever partly because he’s lived in it so much.”  

Cynical much? No really, that wasn’t my heart behind the comment.  It’s an epic song with an epic story and cast, yet, he’s had decades to perfect it, test it, and perform it.  He’s not getting in his own way every time in order to re-create the wheel; he’s working his edge.

What I’ve curiously pondered in my heart the last several days since is how ingrained our stories get into our hearts and brains; so ingrained we believe them, bowing down to them as if they had the keys to our life’s success.  

You see, people believe what we show them to be true about who we are.  Oftentimes, we clumsily miss the opportunity to draw them in because we’re stuck living out our scarcity story— fearful and highly undervalued.

Over the next several weeks on the blog, we will explore practical ways of tweaking our story in order to “work our edge.”  I heard that phrase in a yoga class recently.  It was one of those classes where the heat’s cranked up, and it smells like a gargantuan eucalyptus plant is sweating.  Our annoyingly fit and enthusiastic teacher kept charging, “find your edge and work it.”  I was too busy slipping all over my mat and looking like a frustrated beet to remotely find anything edgy.  Still, the phrase stuck and I kind of love it.

Awareness is the first step towards change, so this week, I encourage you to be a student of yourself.  With a beginners mind, simply observe the little things you do that make you come alive.  This can be cooking a meal or writing in your journal or going for a run.  What are those things that come naturally to you that you assume everyone else does with such pleasure too?  Is it writing a thank-you note, encouraging a friend, or researching printer ink (sky’s the limit here, folks)?  These little things are the making of your edge.  They are how you lead, and consequently, they are highly valuable.  

So, just like we learned from Mr. Nash, oftentimes the most brilliant stories come from the most ordinary-seeming things.  Your story is one of a kind. Now, its time to work that edge.

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

Magic in the Meltdown

If today’s title caught your eye, you are in the right place—Welcome.

When was the last time you had a meltdown?  You know, the powerless, ugly-cry, shut the world out because no one seems to understand how hard it is variety?  

It felt as though your body was boiling over with frustration so much so that it had to find a release so naturally, the eager emotional wheelhouse got a proverbial hall pass and skipped town on someone else’s dime.  It was a bender of a meltdown, remember?

In those moments, all I want to do is fix it, run, or somehow numb it in order to escape the tight and uncomfortable tension I’m feeling.  It’s simply too much.  

Days later and with time’s firm and steady grip around my limp hand, I realize something magical: there was and always is a clear way out.  However, against my resistant heart’s desire, that magic occurs as we willingly walk through the pain, not around it.  

I feel this sometimes when I can’t sleep.  I’ve been known to struggle with insomnia. Sometimes there’s a reason for it, and sometimes my stubborn body simply won’t shut off.

You know what the most frustrating bit of this dilemma is? It’s not the actual inability to sleep; it’s the belief that I “should” be able to sleep; that I am somehow guaranteed this right without question.  The entitlement trap is what gets me every time, leaving me resentful on top of delirious.  

What I realize after those seasons of scant shut-eye pass is something pretty basic, yet poignant: 

It didn’t kill me.  

In fact, it gave me something to learn from, write about, and understand better in order to amp up my arsenal of sleep tools.  (PSA: If you have trouble sleeping, let’s totally talk.)

Last week, I shared a very special interview with Miles Adcox, Owner and CEO of Onsite Workshops, a regular guest expert on the Dr. Phil Show, new Dad, among many other cool things.  If you missed the episode, definitely go back and check it out, he delivers some brilliant insight in there for us.

I ask every guest the same question: If you could give your 25-year-old self a piece of advice, what would it be?  (For you millennials out there, let’s say 15.)   

What he said was stunningly simple and so applicable to you and me: “It’s okay to not be okay.”

Wait. What?  

You mean, when I’m mid-meltdown of the century and nothing, I mean, NOTHING, looks as it should, it’s….OKAY?

Yes.

I’ve sat with those words a lot lately, and they bring me continual peace.  In my experience, like with the sleep situation, often it’s not the actual pain of the problem that is most piercing.  Instead, it’s the belief that whatever is happening shouldn’t be.  That, I believe, is the difference between pain and suffering.  

Pain inevitably ebbs and flows throughout this life if we are walking around with anything vaguely resembling a heartbeat.  However, suffering is the delicately crafted narrative we create about our pain.  “I shouldn’t be feeling this way” or “my past was too much to bear.”

Curiously, life is made up of a 50/50 split of positive and negative feeling emotions.  

Lately, I’ve been a student of this highly valuable process called unlearning: unlearning the entitlement stories, the fixing agents, the escape routes, and the harsh judgements that accompany my pain.  

We spend so much of our lives trying to fix the flaws we think hold us back in life, and little do we know that the unlearning of these remedies will be the savior who picks us off that fast and broken road.  

We must be the un-teacher of these numbing agents as we lean into the discomfort and tension of the moment.  

After all, it very likely won’t kill us.

You don’t need fixing; you need to be understood.  If we are constantly trying to escape ourselves and our pain, we will never get close enough to understand the root of it and answer its cry.  We must gently, and with loads of self-compassion, listen and embrace the voice of our dilemma, whatever it speaks.  This is the magical crossroads of our painful experience and total acceptance.  Not only that but ironically, this is the surest route to our deepest joy.

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

xoxo

Pause & Reset — The Eclipse (and a VERY special announcement!)

Hello!

I hope your week is going well and you were able to catch the total eclipse on Monday. It was magical, eerie, mysterious, and simply moving. To be honest, I’m still very much processing it today.

In fact, it stirred up deep emotion and thought I wasn’t expecting. I’ve loved hearing friends and clients describe their experience as well. A common thread of feedback I’m getting is how unifying this mind-blowing act of mother nature was and is in light of the current chaotic times unfolding before our eyes.

The light became dark as the sun took a leave of absence for mere minutes. We dipped into the great unknown and uncertain, and all the surrounding chaos got dim in comparison to the display of pure genius we beheld.

Yes, indeed; a much-needed reprieve, though brief.

I’m struck by this powerful notion of pause: a collective joining of earth’s awareness directed in nature’s singular display of awe and wonder. Nature has an uncanny ability to ground us in the present moment.

I feel this grounding at the beach as well. Next to the ocean, my little life gets filed away in the perspective drawer and those mighty waves of relief wash over the worrisome details that seemed overwhelming. A pause…a deep breath…and a gentle reset.

As I sat drinking coffee and journaling the jumbled tangle of feelings bubbling up beneath the surface pre-eclipse Monday morning, I came across a quote from Author and Enneagram teacher, Ian Cron.

It helped me put language around what I was experiencing. Ian elegantly stated,

“Humans are the only beings that have the agency to mask their identities. Our goal is to become the true self.”

Yes!! How often do you find yourself putting on masks that disconnect you from the truth of who you are? I know I do… often.

For me, the eclipse served as this dramatic invitation to pause, notice the truth inside, and reset to the path of my essential self. This constant awareness is our collective true north.

When the light of certainty gets dim around us, hopefully we can call on courage and dig deep into that pulsing inner light of wisdom and truth that longs to lead us.

What’s guiding you? What masks do you find yourself wearing that may not be true to who you are? Perhaps this practice of pause will be an opportunity to observe, accept, and completely own our true and unique stories.

Speaking of stories, I’m incredibly excited to bring you a brand new podcast interview next week with Miles Adcox, Owner and CEO of Onsite, an internationally known therapeutic and personal growth workshop among so many other amazing things.

I’m especially grateful for him as Onsite has been a major conduit of personal healing, changing the trajectory of my life a decade ago this month. He is an incredibly effective and heart-led leader and I know you’ll be inspired by his insight, humility, and courage.

Get excited, friends!! 

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!

The Artist & Depression: An Interview with Matthew Perryman Jones

I’m beyond excited to share today’s podcast interview with you. Several weeks back, I sat down with Matthew Perryman Jones, one of the most truly gifted artists I know. As happens every time we connect, our conversation trailed off into distant fascinating lands and two and a half hours later, time’s up and I realize I’ve got some serious editing to do (which was really hard because every bit of our conversation was so valuable!)

Not only am I eager to share his story today, I’m blown away by the application it has for you and I, no matter if you’re an artist OR struggle with any shade of depression.

MPJ is one of my absolute favorite singer/songwriters. I love what American Songwriter Magazine wrote about him regarding his writing and song “Land of the Living,” which was featured in Oscar nominated film Manchester By the Sea’s official trailer. (Featured on the podcast.)

“MPJ’s songwriting acumen could easily be used as a musical template to demonstrate how less can be so much more. Land of the Living sounds cinematic and slowly worms its way inside your brain, feasts upon your emotions, and ultimately burrows down into your soul. It could be said that Matthew makes soul music — not based on how it sounds, but on where it originates and where it resides.”

I’ve always connected so deeply with his songs, and perhaps more importantly, his voice. However, his voice, as you will learn, did not come without a price. His journey’s been wrought with depression, anxiety, and at times, sheer panic and paranoia.

Today, he shares openly and vulnerably about those painful seasons and how he came to make peace with them, finding his voice along the way.

Please have a listen and sit with his story. It’s a redemption story—one that lends wisdom and clarity to our journey and all those painful questions along the way.

Also, if you haven’t already, check out his music! I look forward to having him back on the podcast to talk more about it as well as the writing process in general.

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

xoxo