Short Musings


April 6, 2015

Bird in a Cage

I wake up and already dread being here.

…in this skin.

Body aversion has risen to the surface, yet again.

It has brought soar muscles, stiff bones and rigidity all over.

Old patterning keeps me lodged in a newly adorned jail cell.

How did I get here and why am I STILL struggling with this?

I’m pissed at the uncomfortable familiarity but there’s no time for fuming, I must get up and face the day.

Nothing I put on feels good.

Jeans dig into a belly that denies a full breath.

Yoga pants, too frumpy for my mood.

I settle on my Eileen Fisher black kaftan as it allows a sense of flow that I can’t otherwise access.

The face value of the mirror sucks me in almost hypnotically.

I am in a TRANCE of the physical and I want to scream into its compactness.

A voice whispers ‘go outside, Kate’

I need to see the energy that lines the sky as proof that there’s more than the skin and bones I’m fixating upon.

Without a jacket I head outdoors.

Spring has arrived.

Ah yes, spring…

Instantaneously, I understand my dip into body aversion.

Today’s dread is the result of deep trauma that recycles in my system this time of year.

Historically, spring has meant less clothing, more visibility, and a faster pace – all extremely distressing to the highly sensitive emotional eater.

I tearfully ask for help healing this buried trauma and it arrives in the form of a phone call from my friend Bree, later that afternoon.

She says, ‘Kate, I get the feeling you need to move, like MOVE!

And so I lace up my sneakers and I start walking.

The fuming that I disregarded earlier in the day wants to be felt now.

It BOILS below the surface.

Unable to be with it in a contained manner, I let go of Koda’s leash and wildly reel in place thrashing all of my extremities.

SHIT, this is massive.

It feels like an exorcism of sorts.

I stop flailing as to not appear totally crazy to the passing FedEx truck and run instead.

I run and I run and I run.

My body aches as my feet pound the road.

Gasping for air, I cycle between crying, sprinting and screaming.

I stop when I can’t go any further.


The soar muscles,


The rigidity,

Body disdain,

The shallow breathe,

Constrictive thoughts.

It’s moved through me.

Just like that.


A powerful moment, indeed.

Proof that the body and the mind are conspicuously connected.

Restriction in the body (via trauma or otherwise) equates to restriction in the mind and vice versa.

As I walk up our deck stairs into our house, it becomes clear I have stumbled upon a tool that will allow me to feel even more.

That tool is my body.

Grateful, so very grateful.

Alright life….what’s next?

The power to handle it has arrived within me.

With Love,


Short Musings


March 20, 2015

Rex Begonia leaf centre

3:30 AM jolts me out of bed with a throbbing headache.

I fumble to the kitchen for a glass of something – water, orange juice, seltzer, anything…

Laying back down, my mind drapes itself around the pounding with a curtain of reasons why – my hormones, sugar, the moons position, too much technology, not enough meditation, yada freakin yada.

I fight the thoughts until I see them and than I don’t.

Sensing my breath I search for stillness that lies beneath the migraine.

It has taken me years to head the invitation to go under my physical symptoms as opposed to merely skimming the surface with a simple self-diagnosis.

Lately it’s become impossible to deny my somatizing self; like it or not my emotional body transmutes into the physical and the diagnosis is not found on Google’s search engine (try as I may).

Closing in on 4AM, I seem to have found a place of silence, albeit shaky.

Beyond the thoughts, deep inside my cells, there is space to locate the origin of discomfort.

“What do you need from me?” I ask the throbbing,

Beginning to cry, my head seizes around the pain.

Ah, I see, my heart, she wants to move.

I can’t relax enough to hear her now so I breathe myself back to sleep.

It is not until well into the next day that I am able to find a tender enough foundation for her voice to come through.

And when I do, the tears flow uninhibited.

They are old, very, very old and I don’t feel a need to understand them.

Just like that, the throbbing dissipates.

I’m calm for the first time in over a week.

I internalize this moment as a remembrance to let her speak more often.

They were right, the ones who said the longest journey we will ever go on is into the heart.

Just when I thought I have wept it all away, more sorrow wants to move through.

Our dear sensitive hearts, they are protecting …




Pain that my eating disorder and cycling addictions did their best to mask.

Pain from this lifetime and many lifetimes before.

It’s terrifying, beautiful, ugly and liberating all at once.

Life surfaces this pain for us so that we can flow beyond it and ultimate FEEL more.

That’s the whole damn point.

And it begins and ends in the heart if we are willing to go there.

Heart-speak is a new-ish language for me and I want to share with you what my practice looks like so that you may take what feels aligned.

Continue Reading…

Short Musings


March 5, 2015


This morning it is all alive.

Everything is moving, especially my body.


It courses through me with a deep sense of sacredness.

This life force is holy.

I’m too stimulated to put on sneakers or outdoor gear so I venture out in pajamas and a pair of Will’s over-sized muck boots that have lived by the door since October.

I need to move.

My invigorated feet take Koda and I all the way to our mountaintop, the one we dance on when the weather is warm.

I reach my hands toward the sky as they swirl in palpable energy that has become visible.

A slapstick smile on my face has me taking turns between wanting to cry with elation and scream with excitement.

It’s the birth I spoke of a few weeks back, incarnating.

Energy floods in on the other side of death.

Since I was thirteen years old I have been profoundly aware of my negative thoughts.

A beautiful curse of the self-aware sensitive.

At 30, I’m realizing I don’t have to do a damn thing about them.

And so my intimate relationship with darkness dissipates; a relationship that has hijacked my energy for almost two whole decades.

Years have gone by where I blamed my lethargy on chronic fatigue, auto-immune, random allergies and other such ‘mysterious’ illnesses.

Now I see it was my over-identification with healing the darkness that spawned such dramatic life force depletion.

Just because I can feel the darkness, doesn’t mean I have to do anything with it.

I’m not even sure it’s dark.

Labeling it as such is an open invitation for my perfectionistic psyche to step in and ‘cure’ it.


Today as I dance under the sun, I witness what is and play in the light.

Chills after chills after chills after chills.

I look up…

A rainbow has formed a halo around the sun; the light sending me a sign of appreciation for choosing it.

Will’s oversized muck boots are caked with snow all along the insides now.

I don’t mind drenched feet, I’m too busy feeling the energy and paying homage to its revered return.

As we head down the mountain to turn home, I fall HARD.

I’m startled and nervously giggle.

Another sign…

‘Remain in your body, Kate. It’s safe to feel this much energy.’


Short Musings


February 23, 2015

Processed with VSCOcam with f2 preset

I roll over to find his side of the bed is empty.

Reaching for my nightstand, I frantically check the time.


It’s early, but it’s late.

Time, forever my foe.

I FaceTime him and see his office in the background.  He is at work already.

My heart, it melts.

I move out of camera view so that he won’t see me cry.

I’m devastated that he left without saying goodbye though this is just my sadness wanting to cling onto something tangible.

My ache is far deeper, its origin still unknown 36 hours post-arrival.

Alone now in my warm and empty bed, I swim inside the heaviness.

If I can understand it, I can make it go away.

But alas, my mind is no longer a safe hiding place from my heart.

So I coax myself out from underneath the covers.

I stretch my soar body and search for the soft energy I know resides there.

I pour myself a glass of water and gulp it down.

And another one…

Tears falling all the while.

I glance at the clock on the kitchen stove where my eggs are just about ready.


The time somewhat auspicious given my affinity for ‘threes’.

Relief arrives with the noticing of this familiar number.

Sitting down to eat, the wind rustles the front door as if someone has just entered the house.  I feel that they are with me. My angels, the spirits who are helping me expand my capacity to feel into the sadness.

More relief comes with the knowing that I am not alone.

I turn on the stereo, and a song I have been wanting to hear for months magically lands in my Pandora feed.

Goosebumps of synchronicity.  Softness brings movement.  

My phone buzzes on the mantlepiece above the stereo.

A text from a friend reads: “Stay on your surfboard Kate.”

Chills all over.  Oxygen flooding my entire system.

And like that, the sadness, it lifts.

I cry harder though these tears are that of appreciation.

I made it through (with a little help).

And THIS feeling, the one that is coursing through me in THIS moment is the reward.

It’s joy.

It’s L-I-F-E.

In the flow, the origin of my sadness is now revealed.  Its a message for all of us:

Stay with yourself. Don’t leave yourself, ever. No matter what.

(and oh yes, look for the signs, they are everywhere)

Short Musings


February 5, 2015


Spirals, they have been following me for months.

I see them in my carrots and my beets.

Spirals in my Epsom salt bath water as it courses down the drain.

I see them swirled in the milky froth of my decaf latte.

Spirals in the ceramic plate design underneath my fried egg and collard breakfast.

They are in Koda’s eyes as she begs me to walk her and in Wills eyes too.

Spirals have always been there but my recent noticing of them feels more than coincidental.

Today, I sink into their recurrent presence.

Spirals are the symbol of life and death.

As most of my friends are becoming mothers and bringing literal life into this world, I find myself moving through a fairly radical death.

A death which feels spiritual in origin though its manifesting physically by taking away my ability to conceive.

I gaze enviously at expectant mothers and their mystical bellies wondering whether I will ever have that experience.

And than a breath.

…a breath that my hiatal hernia invites me to deepen.

This breath washes away my fears of conceiving.

The flooding of fresh air into an abdominal cavity that has gone unventilated for years carries these frightened thoughts out to sea.

And out to sea the fear beast drowns.

Flailing, thrashing, floundering, dying. 

I bid farewell to a lifetime of neurosis which have dictated my efforting-self; a self who believed that if she did not try than life would not work.

But alas, my exertion has exhausted itself; my body revolting the shallow breath.

I can no longer attempt to make life work.

I refuse to try; it {literally} hurts too much to try.

To try and be someone I’m not, to try and manage ‘my’ emotions, to try and achieve and accomplish, guard and protect; to try and understand life.

And so I don’t. I lean into trusting on the other side of trying.

I stay put and instead let life course through me without clamping down or eschewing it away.

My soul smiles inside the spirals.

This new incarnation of me means more freedom for her.

She knows that there will be another death and yet another re-birth after this one.

She is not scared.

Scared is drowning and breath is floating up.

Short Musings


January 28, 2015

It wasn’t until I reached the Shaws grocery store parking lot that I fully understood what I was doing there.

It was Monday night and the rain was falling with the first signs of spring.

Puddle patterns against the cement.

I had told Will I was picking up odds-and-ends for dinner but really I just needed a safe space to unravel.

Pulling off to the side, away from the crowd of shoppers, I shifted the car into park.

Just the drivers seat and I now.

We welcomed the unbearable weight that came with attempting to understand my most recent bout of physical symptoms.

A burning stomach has raged for many consecutive weeks now.

There’s a fire burning in my gut that I have been trying to eradicate, understand and heal since its onset.

At dusk, on this dreary Monday, I intended on laying down my weapon.

With this declaration, my breath was taken.

What was to follow was an insurgence of memories from age 3 to age 30; every ounce of pain I have tried to protect against, eradicate, understand and heal, whizzing through my minds eye like scenes from a movie.

It was all there with me in my Volvo station wagon falling in a flood of tears.

Puddle patterns on my leather seat.

I couldn’t breath now.

The sorrow leaving my system was mammoth and the gratitude entering even more so.

The pain was ready to leave with my acknowledgement that it need not be understood.

It is not mine to hold onto so tightly.

It is not mine at all.

Breath starts to return now.

I want to get out of the car but am drunk on beauty.

This breath TAKING beauty that comes inside surrendering to the pain.

It whispers feel, Kate, feel.


….a week has now passed since my incident in the Shaws grocery store parking lot.  This mornings diagnosis of a hiatal hernia explains the intense burning in my stomach.  I watch as thoughts scream.  They tell me it’s my incessant anxiety and intense desire to heal that has caused such a diagnosis in the first place.  They tell me I have wasted my life worrying and for what?  There is liberation and deep sadness blurred together in a messy mix of confusion.  I lean into the parking lot memory instead of the confusion.  My head wants to understand it but my heart knows it is all perfect.  Every last messy bit of it.  I’m certain it’s my recent decent into more peace that is allowing for the pain to finally leave me.

And so it does.

Burning right the hell up.



January 14, 2015

Yesterday morning I woke up warm.  My soul very much with me.

It was negative eighteen outside yet there was a distinct heat in my hands and my feet; heat so ostensible that it cancelled out my usual morning haste of scrambled thoughts and self-deprecation.  Only peace was present.

Today, there was no such warmth.

My soul was impossible to locate amid my aching belly, soar back and throbbing joints.

Pain in every cell.

My psychology HOOKS.

It wants to understand the pain, protect me from the agony and move beyond the discomfort.

My psychology wants to put me back on the GAPS healing protocol, a diet that worked well for me several months back.

It wants to cling, grasp and perfect a way of existing so that I don’t have to feel physical pain.

As I type, I am choking on my arrogance; how dare I think I know better than my body on how to heal.

…humbled back to the present, tears now stream down my face.

I wonder if my physical body will ever be hospitable enough for my soul to return in a more permanent way?

So many years have been spent trying to heal the trauma of a digestive system marred with patterns of an eating disorder and tarnished with bruises of half-assimilated nutrients and poorly absorbed emotions.

Decades have been spent trying to calm a nervous system that refuses to calm.

And than, it strikes me…

My soul is inside the pain just as much as she is inside the peace.

The pain is her way of getting my attention, her way of urging me to find acceptance so that we can be here, together.

Right HERE, more HERE, inside this moment.

And inside this moment, I see her, and gently unhook from another layer of my psychology.

I abandon my plans to go back on the GAPS healing protocol.

I let go of my jealousy for those who fill my social media feed and inbox touting successes of ‘optimal health’.

I release my desire to move out of physical pain.

Oh, the conditioning, how it runs deep.

I grab my snow boots, my winter jacket and a pair of hand warmers as I head outside into the polar temperatures.

Koda comes with me and we walk.

I let her lead the way as I open my heart to the trees, the mountains and the sky.

I ask that my heart consciousness entangle with that of nature.

Please help me lead from my heart.

Please help me unhook my psychology from my pain.

Please help me accept my humanness.

Love, Kate



January 4, 2015

the foragers

I want to invite you on a six-month journey alongside me.

I have been feeling a deep prompting to begin leading from a place of kinship, a place of shared connection rather than a place of expertise or know-how.

I have coexisted in this “coaching world” for some time now and while I certainly gained a solid amount of knowledge in the realm of emotional eating, sensitivity, addiction and physical health, it is clear that my evolution as a leader will be absent of wisdom in the form of external information.

My next level is about rediscovering what’s inherent and internal in all of us.

It will be an experience of the invisible, an expedition into the subtle and an excursion amid the fifth dimension.

So what will happen to “coaching” as I know it? I am not sure and the prospects thrill me.

On this journey, you and I will be starting from the same place, curiosity of the heart; a fervor to forage within that trumps our historical patterning to seek what we are without, externally.

I’m tossing aside the books, materials and flashy online courses.

There will be no pedestals of “I know more than you”.

There will be no platforms instructing you how to embody your creative self, enhance your intuition or eat more mindfully.

There will be no promises of getting you where you want to go.

You are the destination; you are the expert you have been seeking and we (collectively) are the vehicles to realizing this.

I have been dreaming up a journey where we come together as a sensitive community with one objective: to support each other’s internal forage through shared, well-defined monthly intentions coupled with powerful vibrational healing in the form of daily meditation.

This journey will be for those who are ready to let go of everything they understand in search of the truth. The truth that lies under the surface of life, the truth that is hidden in our DNA, the truth that calls in the middle of the night urging us to remember who we are.

This journey is for the sensitive who is craving, desiring and dreaming yet deeply knows the avenue to realizing their potential is not through pushing, forcing or wrangling. It is for the sensitive who has exhausted their mental reserves and is ready to surrender, together, to forage their truth.

So how do I market a ‘program’ that lacks a traditional curriculum and set of deliverables?

I have no clue but I am going to start by asking.

I’m certain my desire to lead from this place has come in response to your desire to forage within.

{Read on if you feel a stirring and only if you feel a stirring. The depth of this journey will be directly proportionate to that rouse.}

WHEN >>>  

We start our six-month journey on March 1st and gather monthly through the end of August.


From where you are sitting at this very moment…on the couch, in a tree or under the moon.

  • Monthly Intentions

The apex of the ‘curriculum’ will be intention and of course, surrender.  The monthly intentions I selected (outlined below) are hot-button themes in my own life and since sensitive telepathy is real, I’m guessing you are experiencing similar yearnings.  They flow in a calculated order so that together we may optimally discover our individual internal guidance systems.  Expect miracles, marvels, visions and prophecies.

March: Enhanced Body Awareness

April: Deepened Intimate Connection

May: Increased Heart Perception

June: Greater ability to FEEL Peace

July: Ease in the Creative Process

August: Ineffable JOY

  • Weekly Vibrational Healing Meditations

Each Monday, I will send along a 15-minute meditation to be listened to every morning of that week.  The meditations will align with the monthly intentions and are mandatory.  They will be coming from Peter at the School of Vibrational Healing.  The philosophy of the School is that one needs to experience truth (in the form of vibration) in order to assimilate it into their daily life.  Peter’s meditations are just that, an experience for the heart, not the mind.  I have been working with his meditations daily for the past year and they have redefined my reality and transformed my ability to relax, even and especially when discordant energies arise. As sensitives, we may not know what true relaxation feels like – perhaps it is a glass of wine, something sweet, an occasional joint or forced breath work.  All of these become a cheap alternative to the real thing once vibrational relaxation is felt (trust me).  This is powerful, consciousness-altering work and we as a community get the honor of Peter’s targeted presence every week for six-months.  I am beyond excited to traverse alternate realities alongside you (like really, really excited)!

  • Two 45-minute One-on-One Sessions 

Each month, there will be two, one-on-one 45-minute sessions with you and I.  Ninety minutes per month feels like a solid allotment of time to hold space for the shifting consciousness that will accompany our daily meditations and shared intentions. If we feel there is a need for more time, we can certainly explore that.

  • Virtual Group Ceremony on the New Moon

We will utilize the potent energy of the New Moon to align with Mother Earth and huddle intimately as a sensitive community. Each call will start with a personal story, insight or epiphany related to the monthly intention, offering each individual space to share respectively.  It will be a time of reflection and question and answering but mostly it will be a time to align with our intentions and the powerful patterning of the planet.

  • 24-Hour Support 

There will be a Facebook group for us to celebrate and support one another around the clock.  More than anything this is a place to practice heart speak and kibosh the mind’s stories and limiting beliefs that will no doubt surface with this work.  This is the place where we stay honest and keep course with our truths.


If you are reading this now and feel a stirring, this was created for you.

It’s all for you, everything in your life.

Every book you have read, every coach you have hired, every conversation you have had and every tree you have come in contact with up until this point has lead you here.  And here, is where you will discover the real expert, you.

This is your next level which coincidentally corresponds to mine.  I can’t access the next layer of my truth on my own and I have a feeling if you made it this far, you aren’t supposed to either.  We are meant to be on this vibrational journey side by side.  Our next levels are dependent on one another.

Woooosh.  Feel into that.

The investment is $350/month.

If you are ready to join me my fellow forager, fill out the form below and I will be in touch with next steps very soon.  If you are standing on the edge and frightened to commit, fill out the form anyway and I will grab your hand.  We are on this journey together.

I can’t wait for February 1st to arrive!

Much love light and peace, Kate.

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Short Musings


December 29, 2014

Heading home from our daily walk a few weeks back, I stopped Koda in the middle of the road for one more dance.

The snow was coming down slow and heavy.

Looking up, it felt as if I was traveling through space; the snowflakes, stars.

In that moment, I received quite the revelation.

I heard “It’s all for me.”

And just like that, everything made sense.

Suddenly I understood that I was imagining everything.

The beauty of the falling snow,

The breathtaking mountains in the distance,

The blessing to go home to him and walk with her,

The boon of dancing in the middle of a carless road,


I am unconditionally supported.

Any unconscious lingering of guilt, shame or deficiency evaporated.

Gratitude came swooping in but it was more than that, it was the confidence to SHOW UP.

Life wants to support me.

And if all this is for me, I want to live for it all.

This insight coursed through my system like a distant memory; a knowingness from the past.

One step closer to remembering where I come from; one step closer to realizing who I AM.

I am infinite.

You are infinite.

All of this is for us.

What can you imagine? It’s ours for the taking.


Amusing Side Note: I proceeded to march into the house and share this profound revelation with Will. Playfully laughing at my ‘insanity’ (which of course is not new to him), he looked at me if I had smoked three joints in the hour I was out walking.  With a slapstick smile across my face, tears of bliss began to fall.  I knew I was not crazy and definitely not stoned.  I keenly understood I had just peeked under the surface of life and received a life altering truth. “It’s all for me” has become like a warm blanket these past few weeks.  It is slowing me down to appreciate, reframe, and breathe in what life’s trying to deliver.

Go ahead…borrow it for awhile.

It’s a good one to have on hand (particularly when its grey, cold, and our bodies ache from holiday haste).

It’s all for you.



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.”