The Long Player

I’ve never met a single soul who made a New Year's resolution and stuck with it.  If you are that person, I’d like to shake your hand.  However, as a rule, resolutions typically don’t stick. Hence my lack of buy in. They seem reactionary and extreme...like damage control or wishful thinking...or both.  The psychology is flimsy, a bit like elimination diets.  You tell me I need to cut out everything delicious in my life and replace it with cabbage soup and kale, and I’ll laugh in your face to mask the panic attack happening inside. 

I need a gentler, more realistic approach to avoid the stress of such a drastic shift and ensure I’ll commit for longer than half a day.  

Again, if resolutions are the way you roll, my hat is off and this post may not be for you.  However, if you’re like me and desire lasting transformation in your life yet often lack the follow-through necessary, keep reading.  It’s deflating to see yet another year pass by and remain in the same place you were this time three years ago.  My theory as to why this happens is we are working with old flat programming.  The thoughts you had about yourself  three years ago are what lead you to who you are today.  

The problem with resolutions, or any type of short-term goal, is they focus on tactics rather than strategy.  They tend to advocate behavior change without accounting for the mindset–or belief system–necessary to support them.  

For example, you decide you’d like to learn to play the cello this year.  You’ve always loved its hauntingly beautiful sound and every time you listen to Yo-Yo Ma, you weep.  This is your new calling in life and 2019 is the year you own it.  You hire a teacher, buy a cello, set up a space in your home office to practice, apologize in advance for the ruckus about to be made to anyone living in close quarters, and get right to it.   

Three months in, deadlines at work are foreboding, the kids are struggling in school, and your precious sleep dwindles as you lie awake in bed playing mental Tetris to rig the next day’s schedule together.  What gives? Your dream of playing Royal Albert Hall next February.  

Why? Because your identity allows you to opt out.  You’re a working mom learning to play cello as opposed to a practicing cellist.  

When dreams are challenged by circumstance, it’s dig deep time.  We must practice our beliefs about the goal rather than just strive to reach the goal itself. If I stretch my identity and think bigger about my goal, I’m not thrown off course when my day(s) gets hijacked by unexpected interruptions, and they will. 

What is the transformation you long to see this next year?  Is it your health, finances, relationship status, or entrepreneurial success?  Here’s an idea: set longer term goals if they are really important to you.  Zoom out a bit and practice seeing yourself as the cellist with the supporting thoughts and beliefs necessary for that desired outcome.  Consistent action will follow and sustain only if your belief about yourself can support it.  Otherwise, you’ll act out of urgency instead of desire—scarcity instead of enough.    

January one is right around the corner.  Let’s do it differently.  Why wait? 

Today—and everyday—is your stage.  Be the long player, not just the stand in.  

Love & Gratitude,
Katie

Joy Division

After a decade working as a therapist and holding space for the brave, beautiful stories I encounter along the way, I’ve had a curious finding.  Not one of these stories is identical, yet there is a familiar melody that builds if you back up and listen from a distance.  It’s like sitting on the back porch after a long day in the sweaty palm of summer as the crickets and katydids show off their grand cacophony against the stillness at dusk.  No song is in perfect harmony, yet the dissonance makes perfect sense.  

I’ve found this common theme checks out despite age, race, gender, or religion.  You ready for this?  Here it is: 

Humans are terrified of Joy.  

Beyond anger, sadness, grief, shame—you name it—we are far more resistant to feel joy than other emotions.  

Why is this?  

I call it “the other shoe syndrome.”  If we bask in moments of joy, small though they may be, eventually, the other shoe will drop, leaving us disappointed, or perhaps irresponsible, or even worse...empty.  We’re so afraid of the let down so we settle for scarcity and self-protect.  

Brene Brown says it best,

“When we lose our tolerance for vulnerability, joy becomes foreboding.  As a result, we dress-rehearse tragedy and beat it (vulnerability) to the punch.” 

In other words, joy is too risky.  Something terrible might happen on the other side so we opt out altogether and dumb down desire.  After all, if we run tactics on worst-case scenario, we have nothing to lose.  

Not so fast, Cowboy.  You simply can’t opt out of vulnerability.  You’re not like the rest.  You want more.  Hell, you’re taking precious minutes of your day you’ll never get back to read a blog post about self-awareness and development.  Chances are, you’re also a little weird.  I sure hope so.

To walk around on the planet with a heartbeat and a dream we must practice vulnerability.  Expansion requires it.  

Human beings have a negative bias.  I’ve heard it said, “we’re like teflon for the positive and velcro for the negative.”  After all, fear has kept us alive through the ages as a species.  However we don’t need it for survival in the same way we once did.  We can soften into joy if we practice it.  This takes some rewiring, though, hence the word “practice.”  

How do we practice?  I’m convinced it’s a three-fold process.  

When Joy flashes her tooth-y grin in your direction,  don't quickly look the other way—get curious.  Flirt with her, even if she’s there for just a minute. 

Then what? 

Pivot to gratitude.  Research shows the most joyful people in the world are also the most grateful.  This blows far beyond circumstance.  It’s a result of practice.  When we pivot to gratitude instead of scarcity, we build up new accessory muscles we didn’t know existed.  This, in turn, becomes habit over time.  

I like F. Scott Fitzgerald’s words, “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” 

In that practice of gratitude for this joyful moment—breathe it in—stay with it.  Brain science tells us it takes three deep breaths or eleven seconds to form a new neuropathway in your brain.  By basking in these joyful moments, you are literally rewiring your brain to make you a more wholehearted, receptive person. 

By the way, this post is really for me.  They all are.  We write what we know because we’ve had to learn it.  I’m guilty of constantly chasing the extraordinary.  In this chase, I miss out on the tiny, ordinary moments bursting with joy: the quiet flurry of snow, the faint song being played on the piano in the other room, a perfectly poured latte, my niece’s delicious laugh, a text from a friend “just saying hi.” These simple sightings of joy are oxygen for the soul.   

This joy, this “sharp and wonderful stab of longing” as Lewis describes, is bittersweet.  It’s the good and the bad, the black and the white.  It’s toggling the both-and.  This season, I’m committed to that creative tension.  I’m committed to practicing those tiny, two-degree shifts that bolster desire.  I don’t want to go it alone though.  Will you join me?

Love & Gratitude,

Kati

Finishing Strong

Last week, a dear friend said something so profound in conversation.  I’ve been marinating in it since.  She said, “I’m struggling to find my now.  I’m either stuck in the past or out somewhere in the future.  I desperately want to find my now.”

Can you relate to this?  I sure can—especially in this eleventh hour of 2018.  It’s tempting to camp out in what “could have been”: more productivity, success, health, passion, what have you. This temptation is then compounded by the seductive tendency to run tactics on a fresh new start right around the proverbial bend.  

You know the drill.  The diet and exercise folks join forces and broker a zillion dollar deal every fourth quarter counting on you and I to wake up January 1 after sipping on the stiff and steady cocktail of two parts bloated, one part foggy, and a heavy shake of shame.  We buy-in to the ultimate extreme makeover our resolution(s) of choice promises only to throw in the towel a week later hangry, and with the selfless support of your dearest pint: Ben & Jerry, or Stella Artois.   

It’s so predictable, right?

I believe it’s high-time we outgrow this brand of insanity. Thankfully, there is another way. Conscious living invites us into self-awareness. If we accept this invitation, we immediately enter a room full of freedom—and responsibility.  

Viktor Frankl, Austrian psychiatrist, Logotherapy creator, and Holocaust survivor, said it best, 

“Between the stimulus and the response, there is a space.  In that space, there lies your freedom and power.”  

The month of December presents us with a vital passageway—a sacred space.  Incidentally, it’s one of the tightest spaces in which to remain present and self-aware.  If we consciously choose presence, that powerful space of the here and now, as opposed to the sugar-laced trans of consumerism, I believe we will finish strong.  

“Buzz-kill much?” you ask. 

Fair enough, however, I wholeheartedly believe our most powerful, abundant lives are built with consistency, brick by brick, and experienced moment to moment.  Why?  Because if I am present in each moment, I hold the keys to reality and relationship.  By this I mean, I live in wakeful presence and respond truthfully to my desires, to my needs, and to those of others.  I also forgo the trap of extreme, reactionary living. 

Speaking of the needs of others, the Holiday season is often one of deep pain and loneliness in the hearts of many.  I’ve known this pain well.  Yet at the same time, there is this massive expectation to shine up the shell of appearance and ignore the voice of pain that hums a haunting cry for help.

When you and I narc-out in trance, we are unavailable to those needs all around us.  Likewise, we silence our own.  Needs such as connection, compassion, and rest get overrun by the loud liturgy of commerce and consumption.  

These next several weeks, give yourself and others this gift of presence.  Enjoy the heck out of them, consciously choosing to come back to the moment, no matter how often the drone of chaos calls.  Each time you make this choice, you step into your freedom...your power.  Don’t bother eliminating the noise. That’s an isolating crap-shoot. Simply cultivate an inner peace amidst the noise as you loosen the grip of control and soften the lens of extremes.  

Finishing strong looks more like staying soft than hustling hard.  

And so we celebrate the end with a conscious awareness of now’s beginning….

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

Finding Family - The Broken Road Home

I’m not sure if it’s the Holiday season or the fact that I’m becoming more nostalgic with age, but something has been at the forefront of my heart and mind as of late. 

I can’t seem to shake it.  I don’t want to shake it.  

It’s beautiful, complex, frustrating, exhilarating, heartbreaking, fun, weird, grounding, dangerous, and safe all at once.

Everyone has it on some level and has been seriously impacted by it, undoubtedly.  I believe we must somehow, either literally or figuratively, leave it at some point in order to honestly choose to love and enjoy it in the end.  

“What the….?” you ask. 

 Ah yes, the “F” word.  Not that one, the other “F” word: Family.

What comes up for you with the mention of family?  Is it sadness? Regret? Longing? Love? For me, this slow and heavy wave of gratitude washes over. Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t always like this. I’ve had some long dark stretches of distance from my family. Sure, there were disappointments due to impossible expectations, but what I’m realizing is many of those expectations were really for myself, not my family.  They were just the closest, easiest targets. 

Do you relate to this longing for family—for home? If you find yourself in a place of loss and loneliness this season, keep reading.  This is for you. 

Last Thursday, as I sat around the Thanksgiving dinner table surrounded by family and an arsenal of casseroles that would make Paula Deen squirm, I cried.  Fear not. There was no drama to speak of and the sides were superb.  I cried because of how far we’d come and how much we’d grown in awareness and compassion for one another despite the broken road that’d led us to that place and those casseroles.  

A convincing bolt of insight hit me as we went around the table sharing what we were most thankful for and not one person talked about their careers, accomplishments, or stuff.  Each colorful character gave high praise to the same gift: relationship. Relationships are the powerful connections that sustain human life on this earth.  For the record, I wasn’t the only sap who cried either.

I realized something deep and glaring and worth its weight in gold: Relationships are the most important thing in life..  More important than money, power, ideas, and influence (especially influence), relationships are King and must be intentionally cultivated and nurtured over time. (Read: not only on Thanksgiving.)  

Sometimes this comes in the form of a family of origin; often times this comes in a family of choice—the one(s) we build.

The truth is, for many of us, the word family brings up immeasurable pain and anxiety as safety and protection were needs that went missing in our family of origin.  

In therapy, we spend a great deal of time unpacking that pain, which isoften traumatic, in order to rewrite a narrative of value, love, acceptance, and possibility.  Needs such as provision, encouragement, affection, play, and structure were denied and as a result, had to be met elsewhere.  Survival became a fight, resulting in unhealthy relationships, the denial of needs, parenting aloof parents, acting out behavior, and on and on.

In Falling Upward, Richard Rohr aptly concludes, “When you get your, ‘Who am I?’, question right, all of your,'What should I do?’ questions tend to take care of themselves.”  The first half of life is often spent grappling with identity, or at least mine was.  Hell, some days I feel the ballot is still out.  Our first mirror of identity dwells in the home and is largely held up by our families.  This natural flow of life and development, however, is not always accurate and/or affirming for many.  I have wonderfully loving, encouraging parents who instilled their values and beliefs into us five kids.  This infrastructure is necessary for ultimately receiving, learning,  doubting, questioning, and forming a collective of tested individual convictions from which we grow and live out the second half of life.

Now this can be a brutal process as we must often lay down that set of values inherited from our parents in order to refine and embody a set that brings more congruence into our daily experience.  For me, that process was peppered with anxiety, depression, and bouts of insomnia.  With age and maturity (we hope), the invitation is to take responsibility of our today, and offer compassion and forgiveness to our family of origin.  Our parents, after all, are just people.  They were never meant to stay up on that pedestal you put them on.  It was just too far to fall.

I can remember sitting in my spiritual director, Gail’s office like it was yesterday.  She had this big old winged-back chair with robin’s egg blue toile fabric and a worn-in seat.  Her office felt like a dreamy English cottage or something: a collection of kindness, tears, books, mismatched story-ridden antiques, and the occasional whip of tired laughter. During stretches in my twenties I would sit with her and shed my stories of disappointment and loneliness as if she had an “all better” pill to give me in the end.  Well, she didn’t.  Yet,  I miraculously made it out of that decade alive.  I remember her gentle response to my weary, longing soul, “You know Katie, loneliness is really the human condition. Stillness isn’t the worst teacher, either.” I know, I know, I would reply with a deflated sigh.

Coming to embrace this as truth has been a peaceful rendering for me.  Because we are relational beings who long for and are made for connection, we constantly ebb and flow on that spectrum energetically.  It is impossible to stay in a static place of fullness at all times.  You may be an over-achiever, but you’re not a machine.  I realize this when I ask my friends who appear bulletproof and fabulous on Instagram how they’re doing only to find out in conversation that they are really struggling with a deep sense of disconnection and sadness.  The rat race of keeping social media appearances may be a glossy, temporarily successful campaign, however it does not satiate the desires that well up beneath the surface after all those hearts and likes cease to flow.

There is simply no substitute for family: the one we’ve been given or the ones we have chosen.  “Feelings of worth can flourish only in an atmosphere where individual differences are appreciated, mistakes are tolerated, communication is open, and rules are flexible — the kind of atmosphere that is found in a nurturing family.” Virginia Satir had it right.  I take that a step further and add this: the flourishing of self-worth and acceptance can also be re-created in families we cultivate along the way; those safe people who have earned the right to hear and bear witness to our stories.

This, like so many things in life, starts with intention and openness and requires patience and time.  On your unique journey of cultivating family, community, and home, I hope and pray that you will not abandon ship when the space feels too big and the silence too loud.  Listen to that constant longing and echo it to the world, though your voice may crack and your heart falls flat.  And then do it again, and again, and again.  You’re on your way to a place called home and that journey starts within.  You are worthy of connection.

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

Upper Management: How to Lead your Life

If there is anything I've learned from my own winding journey of emotional and spiritual  integration, it is the importance of ritual—or practice.  How do I take full responsibility for my experience, and in doing so, create the life I desire as opposed to a life I settle for?  It’s the difference between leading your life and merely managing it. I believe we close this gap by developing self-awareness through simple practices.

Chances are, if you’re reading blogs about emotional health and wellness such as this one, or have sought therapy at some point, you’re a leader.  Why? Because you are actively participating in cultivating the hidden potential in your life.  You’re finding your edge and sharpening it.  

I like Brené Brown's definition of a leader in her latest book, Dare to Lead: “Anyone who takes responsibility for finding the potential in people and processes, and who has the courage to develop that potential.” 

Sounds doable, right? Within reach?  Without a doubt, I believe it absolutely is. 

Hold up though.  If you and I are going to be leaders, developing and speaking into the lives of others, don’t we first need to lead our own lives fairly well? Otherwise, we prop up a flimsy facade of ego and lack the deep roots of character and credibility necessary to sustain leadership from a place of truth and integrity.  

So here we are, headed full-throttle into the glorious blur of the Holiday season.  For me, this time of year resembles a dialed-in dance with Upper Management.  By this I mean, the steady samba of forgetfulness—losing touch with all those grounding practices and rituals that keep me connected to presence and structure {read: sanity} throughout the months leading up.  I start managing my life instead of leading it, like a crazed Sugar Plum Fairy twirling to Tchaikovsky on repeat.  Can I get a witness?

How then do we slow down that dance and lead from a place of intention instead of reaction? I’m convinced the unsexy truth is we get really good at practice.  

Practice what??

I’ve got three uber simple rituals for you to practice this week. Feeling frisky? Commit to six weeks that will carry you, soaring high right into the new year.

1. First thought: When your eyeballs pop open first thing in the morning, guess what? A first thought also starts to percolate.  That first thought has the power to steer your day either north to Mt. Abundance, or south, to Lake Scarcity.  You have creative license to craft that thought, coloring the trajectory of your day.  If that thought is, “I’m just so tired and didn’t get enough sleep.” Guess which direction you're headed? Yep… straight south to scarcity.  You’re in the driver's seat though, so take one minute first thing in the morning, to carefully choose the thought that will direct your day in the right direction.  The scenery is much better on this route, I promise.

2. Gratitude: Throughout the day, take three one-minute breaks and identify at least three things you are grateful for in the moment.  Meal times are ideal to practice this as we (hopefully) slow down and hop off the treadmill of our day.  The goal here is to keep them simple (i.e. lungs that work, food to eat, a new day, a job or hobby, a dear friend).

3. Belly-breathing: It’s fascinating to me that as a culture, we largely suck at breathing.  Our overall vitality and quality of life immediately improves when we practice deep, steady breathing.  But guess what?  We’re just. so. busy.  I’m calling BS on busy.  For at least one minute each day, practice slow, belly-breathing.  Breathing into our belly, or body’s center of intelligence, brings a tangible feeling of groundedness.  Place your hand on your belly and feel it rise and fall, like a cashed-out kid at naptime.  We’re often so disconnected from our bodies, which stunts us from experiencing the fullness of each moment.  Belly-breathing is the quickest way to connect us back to presence and the intelligent knowing of our bodies.

If these seem too pedestrian—or basic—as you step into CEO of YOU, guess what?  Get over it.  Tough love, my friend.  The best musicians in the world got that way because they nailed the basics, and still practice them. We’re all guilty of getting in our own way by not practicing what we preach. I’m pretty sure I wrote the book on self-sabotage.  However, now is the time to return to the basics and start leading a life that inspires hope and desire.  My challenge to you is this: have the courage to do the small things that lead to big change.  Inspire yourself so much that others start to lean into your light and see themselves in a new, empowered way.  I’m pretty sure that’s called an icon.  Greatness starts off small and grows in that light. 

Love & Gratitude,

Katie