December 8, 2014

spontaneously reorganzing

Center, where are you? You are not where I left you.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shiiiiiit.

You have moved, migrated somewhere new, gone missing altogether.

In my hysteria, I ask a tree, my most perceptive source these days, “how do I get back?  I implore you, guide me back to my center.”

This hysteria is not new to me.

In fact, the more I allow myself to descend into greater levels of peace and light, the greater the ensuing hysteria. With the peace comes a clearer vantage point of the delusions. There is a larger disparity between chaos and order and the chaos simply cannot survive in the light.

A spontaneous reorganization, an upgrade of sorts MUST happen; like water turning into ice.

Scientists say such self-organization occurs when critical density patterns arise within a given system.

Well, my system seemed to peak in density last week.

A new level of peace has made for a center adrift.

Delusions, delusions, so many delusions poised to leave me now.

GAME OVER, disempowerment, you have not survived this upgrade.

Do NOT pass go. Do NOT collect $200.

Terror hovers over the liberation of my unfamiliar sight.

 How do I navigate life from this place?

When is my next tool-set going to arrive?

I’m wobbly and don’t know where to lean.

I want to hide.  Ride this out in solitude.  But I can’t.

My in-laws are staying with us for the long weekend.

I fear I’m too “full” for their presence.

Quietly I watch my hysteria and wait patiently as the stories of disempowerment rage in my mind.

They scream, shout and taunt.

They urge me to not run away, to move into my heart so that they can cycle out once and for all.

I take turns between warding off these disempowering thoughts and plunging into surrender – what feels like 100019394 times a minute.

I bear and grin and fight back the anger that comes with feeling lost.

Everything triggers me.

“Don’t look at me.” “Don’t talk to me, I won’t be able to respond pleasantly.”

I want to explain and excuse myself.

I want to tell my in-laws, “I’m sorry for being less than hospitable, there is a pattern of disempowerment leaving my system and the resulting spontaneous reorganization has me feeling quite manic.” Instead I say, “Can I pour you more wine? How about another piece of pie?”

I breathe air into my soar stomach that refuses to digest today’s food.

I feel my feet on the ground.

I let gravity comfort me and trickle into one cell at a time.

Relaxation is slow to come.  I vow not to force it.

Instead I go back out to the tree and ask once again, “Please guide me back to my new center.”



December 3, 2014

Path with snow in winter with pine trees and mountains and a per

As I trudged my way up the snowy ascent back home, I could feel the muscles in my legs begin to burn. The burning brought with it a realization that I had been successfully numb for a few days, maybe longer.

Why do I do this to myself?

Nearing our house, I saw him standing alone in the doorway, exactly where I had left him. I was just a few yards away now, yet he felt so incredibly far.

I had pushed him there.

As his face came into focus, it seemed to be searching mine for an eager understanding of where I had gone. I had only been out walking for a little over an hour but it had been days since my soul went missing-in-action.

There was a battle of discordant energies raging inside me, leaving gradually less-and-less space for either of us to occupy.

Approaching the doorway, I felt my throat begin to close up.

Thank God, I thought. I was grateful to feel anything at all and pleaded with the tears.

Please flow, please, I beg you.

A mix of incredible relief and sweet sorrow began to stream down my cheeks and onto his warm flannel that was now wrapped around me.

The Douglas pines hushed in the distance beyond our front foyer, where we both now sat entangled on the floor. Neither of us bothered to close the door the wind had just blustered open. Being here felt too good.

My heartBEAT.

Home, finally.

I looked up and told him I was exhausted.

I was tired of fighting the battle that raged inside me.

I was worn ragged from getting lost in my own conflicting energies.

I was weary from moving away from myself; and more so from moving away from him.

I told him that I just wanted to feel.

I asked him why it was so damn hard to feel?

I was looking for an answer and in retrospect I’m glad he did not give me one.

I know this place well. This place of resistance masked as suffering.

Having him validate my sojourn would have reaffirmed a sense of agony that I no longer want to identify with.

Feeling does not have to be hard.  Opening our hearts does not have to be a struggle.

Let Go. Allow. Release. Surrender.

Let Go. Allow. Release. Surrender.





I’m convinced it’s the only lesson I am here to learn.

Over and over and over again.

On different levels, to varying degrees, in countless dimensions.

I can choose to go to war or I can wave the white flag.

There seem to be two distinct thought patterns that arise in me when the lesson is the white flag.

The first is the habitual negativity that begs for self-sabotage. The fixation on the physical, poor body image, the draw to sugar, pull to alcohol, the mania around being a crappy wife, a worthless coach, an overall shitty human-being. The space I take up becomes amazingly small and I can

barellllllllllly. hannnnnnnnnng. ooooooon.

My day is hijacked by the countdown to happy hour, and restriction dictates everything from what I put in my mouth to what I am able to accomplish.

“Don’t touch me”   “Only this much”   “Maybe tomorrow”   “AHHHH”

These negative thought patterns are violent, vicious and vindictive.

They request retaliation.

And with that, the second set of thoughts march in.  The positive ones, in full artilleries armed in my defense. These thoughts urge me to take another epsom salt bath, go for a walk, drink more water, eat extra vegetables, move my body and “for God Sakes Kate, breathe will yah?”  They are camouflaged as constructive, though they are just as antagonistic in their pull.

I’m caught.  I crouch and eventually ball-up; the dissonance too potent.

I pray.  Please help. I’m lost, in this place again.  I need help. 

And than…a remembranceLet go.

It may start off as a thought, but it is far from.

‘Letting go’ is a feeling.

It’s warmth in the body, a comfort beyond the pain, a sensation of light solidity.

It’s letting me in.  It’s letting him in.

Allowing starts in the heart and alerts the rest of the body to follow suit.

Most mornings, in order to allow,  I must wake up twice.

As Bradford Keeney writes:

This means that you should first wake up in the morning and get out of bed.  Then awaken your heart; walk out of the bedrock of objects and materialism and into a spiritual world guided by the felt lines of relationship that hold everything together. Now the ropes, rather than the objects they connect, are primary.  They are the most important and the most real.

And so, I urge you to wake up twice each morning, and again several times throughout the day until the heart becomes your natural residing place.

I know there is still much I am protecting and even more to be surrendered too.

I will continue to choose the heart, moment by moment because I want to feel.

It is why we are here, to feel.

Repeating once again, 

for me…

Feeling does not have to be hard.  Opening our hearts does not have to be a struggle.

Short Musings


November 24, 2014

IMG_1109I really like getting older.

With each day that passes, I feel as if I am able to let more of life in.

Perhaps it’s a conscious letting go or a deliberate slowing down that is allowing me to feel into greater levels of joy.  Whatever the case, it leaves me with a keen recognition that “future Kate” will be wiser and even more joyful.  It makes me want to get ahead of myself, cling to the impending and generate excuses for “current Kate”.  It leaves me withering in the face of my many muses; they have ‘something’ I don’t have yet.  But one day in the future… I just might.

Today as I was walking Koda, the clacking of the tall naked trees got my attention. I stopped in their presence, looked up and closed my eyes.  Their vertical life force spoke directly to mine.  A warm strength coursed down my spine and brought with it an ancient understanding into the non-linearity of life.  I was reassured that this moment is all that exists.  I already have that ‘something’ that tomorrow, next year and 5 years might bring.

It’s all right here, in this moment; everything I am looking for.


Future Kate

#quantumshifting #dailytreelessons

Short Musings


November 20, 2014

IMG_1077Ever stare a tree so long that it starts to appear fictional?  And in turn, you begin to feel less real too?  There is something insanely comforting in that.  They remind us where we came from.

Trees are record keepers.


Short Musings


November 18, 2014


fifth dimensionLast week, one of my readers described a post of mine as VERY ‘heady’ (using all CAPS to emphasize just how ‘heady’).

I blushed, breathed into my humility and cringed in agreement.

Over the past few months, in an attempt to revamp my website, I have had the chore of combing through my entire portfolio of writing. I too walked away with a keen recognition of how cerebral my reflections have been.

I deduce, make inferences, analyze and conclude.

These deductions are based on insights that naturally arise from a predisposition to feeling A LOT.

This is how my brain works, how our highly sensitive brains work.

With our increased ability for insights comes a strong pull to share, to realize our potential if you will.

There is an undeniable exertion that comes with that pull.  In order to land our potential, we over-rationalize, logically labor and mentally might.

How can we not? This is a matter of soul satiety; spiritual life and death.

The insights that started off as bliss soon morph into a four-walled, dark and dingy prison from which there is no escape.

As I look around at the paralyzed creative, the struggling musician and the tortured artist, I can’t help but wonder if our shared ‘strife’ is correlated to the distance between the recognition of our potential and the time it takes for us to realize it.

Do the addictions, depressions and self-doubt live in the space between recognition (feeling) and realization (creation)?

I believe they do.

BUT, what if…

Time and space did not exist?

We could recognize and realize our potential at the same time?

We could feel and create simultaneously?

We could leave logic out of it?

I wholeheartedly believe we can.

We are moving away from the logical information-based age and into an age where quantum shifting is possible and the doors to the 5th dimension not only exist but are flung wide open.

How do I know this? Because I can feel it…

And because I can feel it, I know.

So, how do we begin to move away from the logical and our coinciding addiction to belabor our potential?

We choose it.

We ask to be shown.

Beyond that, I have no freakin clue.

I feel more of a beginner than I ever have and it feels insanely liberating.

Perhaps my past overemphasis on logic has me in hot pursuit of the illogical; the same way too much time in the dark has propelled me to become a radical seeker of the light.

More weirdness to follow…

Short Musings


November 13, 2014

watch out world

My journal has been collecting dust for months now.

My overly-reflective self has clearly taken the sidelines.

Perhaps I am processing more in the present moment, leaving less of a need to process after the fact.

Yet, after the fact is where I’m used to creating.

My reflective self is where my creative self has historically come to life.

And so I find myself at a major crossroads.

I’m recognizing it is impossible to be both reflective and present.

So how do I embrace this new incarnation of myself that lives in the present? The self that has lost interest in ruminating for hours and is far more enchanted with the synchronicities existing right in front of her.

How do I share from this place?

More importantly, how do I create from this place?

It feels scary paralyzing.

Creating from the present means I have to let go of perfection.

It means I have to leave my weighty thesaurus at the door.

It means I have to produce, publish and press send before my obsessive (protective) side gets a say.

It requires a whole new level of vulnerability.

Unedited. Uncensored. Uncut.

Can I be OK with creating from this place?

I think I can…

I guess I am warning you that moving forward, things may look a little different around here.

Messy, more unkempt and maybe even a little chaotic.

I don’t see a choice in the matter. I must create. In the words of Pearl Buck, “by some unknown inward urgency, I am not alive unless I am creating.

If creating from the present is anything like living here…watch out world.



October 31, 2014

Last weekend made for my eighth weekend on the road, in a row.

kind of an HSP nightmare, I realize.

Although traveling is much easier than it used to be, it is by no means seamless.

My natural rhythms unconsciously speed up a few days prior to the day of travel; the same time anticipatory anxiety kicks into high gear. Since I can’t stand the feeling of internal haste, I have no choice but to intentionally slow down.  Depending on how vigorously my mind is forecasting my future travel plans, the process of decelerating can be a bit off-putting.

And than there’s the packing…

Making sure my physical needs get met is an added echelon of worry.

I have historically been an over-packer.  Throughout the past couple of years, I have sized down my wardrobe and am working with a mere 10-outfit rotation nowadays so when it comes to packing for a trip, I literally don’t have the options.  It has become easier with this “less is more” mentality though I would be lying if I said packing was completely absent of overwhelm.

As far as nutrition on the road, the perfect balance of planning ahead of time and trusting that my somewhat specific dietary guidelines will get met is an art I have not yet mastered.  The latter requires an element of disappointment and perhaps bodily discomfort that I would rather not feel.

When I landed in Charleston, South Carolina last weekend for a much-anticipated family wedding, I had a familiar adrenal hangover that haunts me when a lion-share of my energy goes into excessive planning, preparation and control.  Sheer exhaustion takes the forefront followed by a body full of lead and a head that won’t stop spinning.

“Dammit, Kate,” I thought to myself. “You know better than this.”

I am keenly aware that the energy I have is what is leftover after moving through my own resistance.

As my family deliberated whether to explore our first visit to beautiful Charleston via bike ride, a swim in the ocean, or a saunter downtown, I was having my own inner deliberation of how I was going to make it through the day.

My mind hijacked my body.

I was fighting my exhaustion, scolding my over-planner and trying to mask the fact that I felt like utter crap.

And than suddenly, I remembered…


A voice inside me breathed, “practice peace”, echoed by the sentiment, “you get what you practice, not what you want” (thank you Laura Hames Franklin).

I knew that battling my lethargy was a dead end so instead I tuned into the vibration of peace. I closed my eyes and leaned into a sense of deep relaxation (the way I feel when I am resting on a mountaintop, swinging in my hammock, or absorbed in meditation).

My jaw immediately relaxed, my shoulders dropped what felt like 10 inches and my stomach released (I did not know I was holding it).

Within mere moments, I heard my body begging for movement. I proceeded to do a series of cartwheels on the front lawn of the hotel where we were staying (I can’t remember the last time I did a cartwheel, by the way).

My energy miraculously came back.

Wild, right?

These “energetic miracles” have been occurring somewhat frequently lately.

There are days when I wake up and can’t move my stiff back until after meditation when inexplicably, it releases completely. There are other days where I’m struggling on a jog and remember to stop pushing so hard, when suddenly a burst of energy courses through my veins and my legs want to sprint.

These “energetic miracles” are beckoning me to flow beyond my default of tightening.

Tight has forever felt safe…but not so much anymore.

I am learning that peace is in the expansion and not the constriction.

This is contrary to everything I have believed up until this point.  I am aware that it will take practice and there will be various levels of impermanent constriction for greater, more permanent levels of expansion.

My sensitive body says she is ready to feel more.  So, deeper and farther we must go….

(PICTURED: Will and I exploring downtown Charleston (with our “serious” faces).  We are standing under ‘Read & Read’, my new last name as of a few weeks ago!)


Short Musings


October 30, 2014


Over the past several months, and for maybe the first time ever, I have felt more earthling than alien. The level of presence that has descended upon me is strangely relatable to an acid trip, sans the LSD.

Nothing has changed, yet everything has.

An unfamiliar level of peace is here.

Perhaps peace has always been here, it has just been inaccessible to me. I see this inaccessibility as a theme for us. We have trouble being present enough to experience true peace; our highly reactive minds are pre-occupied with protecting our raw nervous systems. We get stuck in resistance and messy mental chatter, falsely believing peace comes inside our fortification.

There will always be something for our minds to fortify against and fixate upon so rather than fixating on struggle, let us fixate on peace.  Lets focus our exceedingly passionate personalities on becoming addicted to peace.

Peace is right here, right now…all around us.

Where do you experience peace? Take notice. Once you know its vibration, practice it. And I don’t mean practice in terms of adding another thing to your ‘to-do’ list. I mean practice peace by choosing peace. 

{NOTE #1: striving after peace and presence will make certain we never have it (as proof from my breakdown on Tuesday)}

{NOTE #2: tripping (sans drugs) is SO awesome}

Short Musings


October 28, 2014

Global Tears

I’m at a loss for words and it’s utterly maddening.

I need to share. Staying quiet does not feel like an option.

I have known for quite sometime that my message and the way I speak about sensitivity and addiction is shifting. The platform remains the same but my perspective, entirely different. Struggle no longer reigns supreme and that changes the whole shebang.

Ironic, that in my effort to share from a more buoyant place, heaviness has returned.

I have been aggressively pushing, forcing, and wrangling after the right words.

I have set up constrictive timelines, implausible deadlines and dubious goals.

Yesterday, as I was staring at a blank page for the umpteenth day in a row, I felt a well of anger swell up in me. It was tsunami in size. I let my dog Koda out of the house as I did not want to scare her with what was about to follow. I opened my mouth and screamed bloody murder for several seconds (or minutes, not sure, I blacked out). My body began to flail in every which direction and I lost all control.

This anger felt unmistakably shared.  It was not just mine.  This was global.

I was screaming for each one of us who can no longer stand to push, force or wrangle. I was shouting for our collective fatigue and flailing for our mutual exhaustion.

The tears that followed were similarly communal.

Surrender, allow, release and let go they whispered.

I have learned this lesson before.

I cried for forgetting, for hampering my soul and for leaving myself, again. I cried even more for each one of us whose soul continues to be overrun by our mistaken belief that applying force is how we ‘get there’.

There is no getting there.

Trusting the process. Trusting that the words I so badly want to communicate will come. My soul clearly does not abide to timelines.

Thank you for sharing in this journey with me. I realize my consistency is anything but. XO

Short Musings


October 22, 2014

Our ability to move through resistance is directly correlated to the amount of peace we allow ourselves to feel.

Letting go, like them.