About Me

Universal Health Principles

EATING DISORDER SERIES

Weekly Share

JUST AN EARTHBOUND MISFIT, I

There’s this pressure I’ve always felt.

To be something.

Good. Grand, even.

It’s probably why I don’t enjoy being around most people.

I feel into their expectations.

Errr my expectations to be something ‘good’ in their presence.

And just like that, I lose me.

In the chameleon suit I’ve hung by the door.

Same goes for why I don’t relish the creative process.

I feel into the suspense.

To create something grand.

And again, I’ve lost me.

The higher the expectations, the greater the vanishing act.

Until I’m so far gone, I’m spinning out above ground.

Utterly panicked.

It’s been a while since a full-on panic attack.

Until last week.

And the week before that, too.

When I went to write + illustrate my ‘weekly share’.

Clearly a story is up for exposure.

This part of the growth process I’ve grown familiar with.

The swelling of the story before it’s death.

Lying on the forest floor (my only way down from sheer terror), questions flashed.

Why the need to be ‘good’ around others?

Why the need to be ‘grand’ in what I share?

Why do I get tongue-tied + twisted?

Just an Earthbound Misfit, I?

Questions that don’t need answers.

What I need is breath.

Kate, breathe.

I’m being asked to let go again.

Hands down the most menacing version of surrender to date.

Because I’ve gota let go of good me + grand me.

And in doing so stare down the fear driving it.

Even more daunting, feel the emotions trapping it in place.

Fears in the context of people ::

‘Will you love me’ if I don’t hold your pain?’

‘If I don’t smile, nod + tell you what you want to hear?’

‘If I’m not good?’

Fears in the creative process ::

‘Will you love me if I don’t share the ‘right’ thing?’

‘If I don’t create something beautiful, eloquent + evocative?’

‘If I’m not grand?’

Oh boy.

Radical it is.

To see unconscious aspects of self still searching for love externally.

The rage of not wanting the pressure to be good, very present.

So too the competing dread of not being good.

Simultaneously here to be felt.

This is beyond theory of self-love.

This is the downright grimy + gritty application of it.

Am I OK with me?

OK enough to let go of good + grand?

I’m not sure.

One step closer.

This does not mean I will stop my ‘weekly shares’.

I’m going to keep sharing until the charge is gone.

And keep placing myself around humans until the charge is gone there too.

Because I want to enjoy both.

More accurately I want the freedom to be uncensored in all circumstances.

As free as the exposed figures I draw.

And that’s incentive to keep on keeping on.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The process to surrender is an interesting one. It’s not something we do. It’s something we arrive at. I’ve gotten pretty familiar with dropping into chaos and finding the order within. And there is definitely an order.

Laying out a roadmap so that you have a guide in your own periods of chaos::

  1. Notice any amplification of thoughts. A storyline that is becoming clear as day. When you feel these intensified thoughts arising, do your best to watch them. Receive the insights but know that you don’t know, yet. You’re early on in the game.
  2. There are emotions to be felt and any holding of insights will constrict you both energetically and physically.
  3. RED FLAG :: At this point in surrender you will want more, most. Use that hurried vibration as a sign post to spread your awareness.
  4. Get in your body. It needs you now more than ever. It needs you to soften the contractions. It needs you to breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Death is passing, birth is coming. Hang loose, baby.

That’s what I got for this week my loves.

XOXO,

Kate

Weekly Share

‘MORE’, DECODED

Have you ever had that frantic dream?

Of desperately trying to get somewhere but can’t?

Late to class but can’t find the classroom?

Trying to catch a flight but the terminals gone missing?

Variations of this dream haunt me regularly.

Panicked, hysterical + agitated, I never arrive.

This recurring nightmare is steadily shattering the idealist in me.

The one who thinks she knows the way to her destination.

Or that they’re even is one.

And as the idealist fragments, what’s fueling her is revealed.

A gluttony.

A subtle desire for ‘more’.

It’s embarrassing + everywhere.

On all levels, ‘more’, decoded, looks like this::

Intellectually, a persistent seeking of information. Feverishly connecting insights.

Emotionally, a favoring of pleasantries. Shunning the heavy + chasing the light.

Physically, a craving to be without pain. Mitigating sensations + muting cravings.

Creatively/Spiritually, a dashing toward inspiration. Rushing to feel a rush.

Oh ‘more’.

I didn’t quite see you til’ now.

And now I am tempering your desire.

Because more implies taking in when I’m simply not ready.

It undermines the systematic ordering of things.

Disregards the importance of integration.

Maybe I couldn’t understand integration until I reached a critical point of inhabiting this body.

Integration can’t be palpable when we are floating somewhere above.

But there is indeed a necessary assimilation involved as we grow.

Rather as we are grown but what’s growing us.

And it happens on each of these levels in a methodical manner.

Synapses connecting, emotions processing, bodies waking, spirits opening.

Constant movement that’s quite tangible when present.

If we maintain panoramic view, ‘more’ becomes the red flag alerting us we’ve narrowed our lense.

This will delay growth.

And it will hurt.

A heck of a lot.

Speaking from experience.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The relationship between sensitivity, idealism + gut health is quite correlated. As someone who has worked to heal her digestive unrest since forever, I’m learning it might not be about the probiotics, bone broth and reduction of sugar. Not in totality anyhow. Maybe it’s not until we alter our very real beliefs around idealism that we will be able to properly integrate our food, emotions, experiences etc.

How to shift the idealist?

I’m not entirely sure as I’m sorta smack in this one. So here’s my advice to me (that I’m hoping will serve you as well)::

  1. Watch the subtle pull for ‘more’. Maybe it’s more food when you’ve already had enough or more money so that you can do this that or the other thing. It could be as innocent as wanting more love or more peace. It’s not so much about what as it is the over-zealous charge behind it. The charge is what prevents us from having it + ultimately integrating it.
  2. When you notice a pull – observe what level it’s emanating from. Is it intellectual, emotional, physical, spiritual?
  3. Go panoramic.  Expand your awareness so you may move beyond whatever level has a biased sense of knowing you need ‘more’.
  4. From this vantage there is space to look at the fear fueling it.  And that’s when the charge begins to untangle. We can finally take in more because we are not trying to have it.

Let me know how this plays out of you. I’d love to hear.

All my love.

Until next week,

Kate

Weekly Share

THE OTHER HIGH

I opened my eyes to Will and my mom crouching above me.

Expressions of alarm + concern broadcast from their faces.

They were speaking but I could not hear.

Gloria, that catchy song from the 80’s entered my awareness.

It was playing from Will’s iPhone.

‘Glo-ri-a, Glo-ri-a, I think I got your num-ber, Glo-ri-a’.

Suddenly I recognized what happened.

Moments prior I got up to dance and must have fainted.

‘How many fingers am I holding up?’ Will prompted.

‘12’, I joked.

Having fainted once before, the experience doesn’t become less disorienting.

Especially in front of family.

Family you haven’t seen in months.

On their kitchen floor.

Right before dinner.

I insisted they eat the Italian take-out my brother and dad just brought home.

As they stepped over me for silverware + plates, comfort came in ‘carry on as normal’.

Continuing to lie there, a very wide focus took hold.

All-encompassing + simultaneous.

My heart. racing with terror from the fall.

My body, aching from the counter I smacked on the way down.

My mind, muddled, faint and distant.

My spirit, right here.

Mom roamed back and forth between dinner and me.

Her state seemed to transform abruptly.

Moving from concern into another role entirely.

And that’s when I knew.

I knew why this was happening.

And how it had to be witnessed by her.

She coached me how to breathe lower.

That’s her job as a personal trainer.

But also in the roles she’s contracted to play.

Beyond mother/daughter.

As oxygen flooded my solar plexus, tears started to fall.

I could feel the cells in my abdomen shifting, gurgling, altering.

They’d been waiting for this moment.

Another level of dropping.

I wanted to tell her what I knew.

And how grateful I was for her role.

Instead I just looked up.

Her face, more familiar, more brilliant than ever before.

Through my watery gaze, I communicated the many levels of what was occurring.

And I got that was my role.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

This sense of knowing is not just limited to my experience of fainting.

It’s happening more and more.

Appearing to be multi-dimensional in nature.

The ‘all-encompassing + simultaneous’ focus is funneling this knowing through.

And the gratitude that comes alongside is…

…well…it’s a high.

But it’s the other high.

An elevated state involving conscious participation of all of me.

And with it, my old ways of lifting a fractioned sense of self are ending.

Sugar. Caffeine. The occasional drink. Over-thinking. Informationally traipsin’ into others.

They’re all sorta a cheap version for what I really want.

And what I really want is awareness of all of me.

All of the time.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

A far-reaching self sentience is the journey.

Especially when our attentiveness incorporates so much that isn’t us/ours.

It takes focus.

To come back to self. Again. And again.

Try it. Upon waking. When you’re in a tea shop. On the phone with a friend. When you’re crossing the road.

Notice your heart. Your body. Your mind. Your spirit.

And now notice all at once.

Get the other high on, my friends.

Until next week,

XOXO

-Kate

PS If you didn’t click through to Gloria, I really think you should.

Weekly Share

LOVE ON THE SURFACE

IMG_6800

Sadness has been alive in me for a long time.

So much so that in our wedding vows, Will spoke ‘I promise to love you when you’re sad, which is often.’

Shame coursed under my cream-colored gown, reddening my cheeks.

Every last guest now privy to my sadness secret.

I don’t want sadness nor its persistence.

And I especially don’t want to be witnessed in it.

There came a point where I had to stop.

Hiding it, that is.

A necessary lesson indeed.

And it had to come before the one I’m currently in.

Where I’m learning the sorrow in my system is not entirely mine.

I know despondency’s role is to slow; gently requesting release of accumulated information.

What I didn’t know is the extent at which I’ve been accumulating what isn’t mine to amass.

My processing skills have reached epic proportions.

A magnet I’ve become.

Energetically saying, ‘let me take it’.

On the level of spirit, informationally traipsing the ethers comes with thrill.

But on the level of human, I’m famished.

I don’t know how to give (nor receive) when not in flight.

With this, tinges of grief.

Followed by full-fledged grief.

About staying on the surface.

I’m not sure I want to.

Won’t it be less satisfying? Less exhilarating?

I place such value on the nuanced, profound and complex.

The surface is sorta, well, sorta lackluster.

Or is it?

It does feel a heck-of-a-lot-better to walk through my day lightly.

Informally interacting.

My body doesn’t melt with exhaustion.

My mind doesn’t race + my emotions aren’t crushing.

But still there’s uncertainty in me.

If I fully embrace the surface, that means I gota stay.

No more flying away in hopes of going home.

To land in this lesson now, indicates I must believe in love on the surface.

And maybe just maybe, I can lure down my spirit.

So we can be here together.

I sure hope so.

It feels like the only sustainable way to love + be loved.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

I don’t have words of wisdom to share just yet. There’s a pretty big storyline unfolding. It’s best to observe before imparting any real actionables. For now, seek love on the surface my deep ones.

Until next week,

XO

-Kate

Weekly Share

DEFENSING TIME + SPACE

Time + Space

Defend :: [di-fend]

Verb :: To ward off attack from; guard against assault.

………………………………………………………………………………

I’ve been defensing time + space forever.

It’s always sorta attacked me.

Collapsing in from all angles.

The consequence, bitterness.

‘get away’    ‘not too close’    ‘only this much’    ‘I don’t have room’

A loner-ish lifestyle slightly little less assaulting than one filled with interaction.

Either way the world seeps entirely in.

Leaving me on defense.

Except for the wee hours of night.

In those darkest hours, I forfeit my position.

I used to wake up and hypnotically eat.

And eat and eat.

A dire attempt to locate myself in a warped sense of time + space.

The eating has since subsided but I still awaken.

More accurately, something awakens me.

Incredible restlessness in my legs.

Internal space that feels full.

Not mine.

Tossing me with deep frustration.

Hours on end.

For years on end.

And I’m finally cracking.

These warped walls no longer fit.

I refuse to be dissolved by the world.

I decline to let it in so damn deep that there’s no room for me.

And yet I realize I chose this.

To show up with empathic bones and sensitive cells.

I chose to be open.

What’s the line between staying open and claiming my rightful place?

The question pushes me toward the answer.

Toward another layer of acceptance.

Of who I am.

Rather what I am.

Beyond my human form.

And with this recognition comes a shifting of boundary conditions.

Of my proper place in time + space.

And a simultaneous refinement of boundary conditions in the souls I’m intertwined with.

Our infinite nature seeking one another.

The finite containers we operate within pressuring contagious growth.

It’s anything but comfortable.

As our borders shift + swell, a healthy defense is required.

One that feels different from ‘get away’ + ‘not too close’.

This defense is laced with whispers of ‘grow’ + ‘expand’.

I’m asked to match the mounting tension with discipline + focus.

To become ever more meticulous about energy in + energy out.

Because…well because.

Expansion is the mission I am on.

The mission we are on.

I see now that these boundary conditions have been waking me for years.

Decades.

Eating inside them a prerequisite.

So to was softening into their restlessness.

To ultimately accept who I am.

What I am.

And that’s quite big.

The souls colliding into me are informing me as such.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

And now I’m bumping into you, informing you of the same.

All of us sensitives, empaths, intuitives (whatever you wana call us) are quite big. Trust me. If you share a resounding bitterness of time + space collapsing in on you, it’s time to spread out. To find your room. Don’t try and get rid of bitterness. Use it. It’s light alchemizing your truest nature.

G-E-T B-I-G my friends. Or just remember you already are.

All my love,

XO

-Kate

 

Weekly Share

SIDELESS

Sideless
9:00 AM-ish, Saturday, January 21st.

We pack into the Volvo for a quick respite to New Hampshire.

NPR strikes a stimulating tone straightaway.

Trumps inauguration, yesterday.

The womens marches, today.

Will taunts, ‘you might be the only woman not marching.’

Bless his fiery wit, offering me space to step into my stance + speak.

‘I don’t feel it,’ I say.

The anger, rage or passion.

I see it.

I see Trumps role as necessary.

I revere him + his soul for what they’ve contracted to do.

To surface sedentary emotions in so many.

Disrupting notions of power + freedom.

And collapsing a system destined to fail.

I honor those marching in response.

Bravely walking into their anger, rage and passion.

Shifting their needle, the collective needle of illusion.

It’s all beautiful.

And it’s all necessary.

But I don’t feel it.’

He looked at me in a way I could tell he was moved.

Chills coursing through my body in response.

I squeezed his hand and turned away.

A golf ball suddenly lodged in my throat.

No I wasn’t feeling anger, rage or passion but I was feeling a heaping mass of sadness.

Sparked by the shared camaraderie of women everywhere.

Those I respect dearly, bound together, sharing exchanges of ‘I get you’.

Despair found me incomprehensibly alone.

Inside, sidelessness.

I’ve never been one for sides.

They’ve never made sense for they both made sense.

Lessons on either end beckoning their own truth.

I let tears drop when ready and that’s when I saw it.

I saw I’m far from alone.

I’m connected to all those women, I must be.

Because I’m feeling despair in response.

The parts believing to be unscathed by the state-of-the-world, humbled.

It’s impossible.

There’s no separation siphon or silos.

Every individual influencing the next in the grandest of symphonies.

And as the world turns over, tensegrity teems.

Tugging us.

Drawing closer, exactly what each being needs to evolve.

My evolution calling forth radical fears of aloneness.

So I can peer straight through into an accurate understanding of human connection.

So I can continue to stand sideless.

Not silent, but sideless.

And feel far, very far, very very far from alone.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

So I ask, what’s your role in our symphony?

What is the state-of-the-world bringing up in you?

It’s not about him, them or the other side.  It’s about what you are feeling in response.

Overwhelmed. Despair. Anger. Rage. Fury. Frightened. Terror. Elation. Bliss.

It’s all valid.

Deep bows to each one of us for facing what our unique brand of feeling is.

For letting resistance be and instead choosing to see what’s in the belly of our own beasts.

Keep going.

Keep feeling.

KEEP GOING.

KEEP FEELING.

 

All my love,

XO

Kate

Weekly Share

DROPPING

IMG_6496

Life handed me a jigsaw piece last week.

You know the kind…

They arrive in uncanny timing.

Information that clarifies your picture, high def’s your journey.

I was receiving a Maya Abdominal massage when the practioner looked at me with tear-filled eyes and said, ‘your soul never fully embodied at birth’.

Hypnotically present, I was surprisingly unmoved.

It certainly resonated but in a way that didn’t matter. Not now.

All jigsaw pieces arrive when you can’t hold to them.

But this wasn’t the piece.

It’s what followed that reverberated, literally.

Uncontrollable tremors in my legs, hips, organs, all the way up my spine.

Sometimes for minutes, other times hours.

Terrifying before it became liberating.

Before I knew it to be a release of tension held hostage at the cellular level.

Waves of grief parallel the shaking.

Whitecaps that pull + persuade me to sea.

Where my vantage has grown wide, welcoming weeps for this jittery body.

A body that has strained since the beginning of her time.

A body that is finally making space.

For me.

I watch my mind try to understand what’s happening.

And why it’s happening now.

It wants to speed up the process, desperate to.

And than…

HALT.

H—A—L—T.

I’ve propelled into confusion.

What feels like rage without reason.

Filled with rights + wrongs, goods + bads.

The minds gotten tangled again.

It thinks it’s doing this.

But it can’t understand what’s happening because what’s happening can’t be understood.

Dropping is nothing short of magical.

And if it’s in fact true that my soul never fully embodied, this is why.

So I could teach myself to believe in magic.

So I could trust that it’s a simple query.

Soul can I feel you?

Can I feel you more?

And more still?

And I can! I really, really can.

More jigsaw pieces.

More magic.

More me.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

I’m fairly certain the whole lot of our HSP community never fully embodied at birth.  We weren’t supposed to. Our shared connection to spirit has armed us with a mission.  A two-pronged mission as I see it.

  1. To remember magic + bring it to the planet. Through art, music, writing, creations of all kinds.
  2. To find one another.  So we can fully drop, together.  We cannot do it alone.  It will never feel safe enough.

Now I’m not here to tell you how to drop but maybe just maybe if you are reading this, Universal Health Principles is a part of our joint journey to dropping, yours + mine {and the growing number of people who are being found by this system}.  If you feel my words, I’d love to share an experience with you.

XO

Kate

Weekly Share

MIDDLE RIDDLE

IMG_6321

The blank page.

Aggravating as all hell.

Especially when I’ve committed to sharing weekly.

I’m on the hook. And I could totally let myself off…

But that’s not what creativity is asking of me.

It’s asking for consistency so it may reveal its riddle.

This week, I hear ‘you have something to share’ but I assure you I don’t.

Grrrr. Dammit. Arghhhh!

When this same phenomenon happened last week, I threw a temper tantrum, downed a glass of Prosecco and danced around the living room instead.

Only a temporary cure though.

The pull to create, unrelenting.

So I persevere into the space where images flash, potential concepts too.

I watch ardent voices eager to meaning-make.

‘Is this what I’m supposed to share?’’Or is it this?’

None of it feels right. Too forced. Not the flavor of innovation I’m after.

Several minutes pass before the parts coaxing the reveal, relax.

And there it is.

The reveal lives in the middle.

The space between the question and the answer.

The distance between the beginning and the end.

What I’m after occupies this median.

Why so much resistance to coming here I wonder?

Perhaps because it’s a window to another world.

A world without time.

One that crumbles the illusion of life as I understand it.

Suddenly I’m just in it, suspended spacially.

And that’s too much to handle, steadily anyway.

But it’s what I want to handle.

Creativity is begging me to stay in the middle.

Both my physical middle and the proverbial one.

Guess this means I will keep showing up for my weekly share.

And stretch its practice into my moment-to-moments.

I will continue to speak in questions.

And relish the space that follows.

I will remain soft at both ends.

And sink into the spreading surface area between…

Between my head and feet.

The sky and sea.

My eyes and what they meet.

The blank page and published post.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It’s no coincidence that a relationship with my physical middle is prompting a rescue of my creativity. Or perhaps it’s the other way around. Chicken or the egg I’m not sure.

There’s a lot I could say here, but I’m gona streamline it to two bullets…

If you are someone whose tugged by the middle riddle, I would offer the following:

  1. Pay attention to your organs. Get to know what’s in there. Become curious. Awakening organ energy is a very important part of the creative process (I’m slowly learning). It’s where we feel. There are more neurons firing in our bellies than there are in our brains. So make contact in whatever way you feel called. Study the anatomy, massage the area, ask your breath to show you new cracks + crevices. All awareness helps.
  2. As far as the actual creative process is concerned, I’m a huge proponent of structure. Schedule it in. At least to move past the initial resistance. Otherwise creativity becomes when we feel like it which could be never.  Passion will eventually become contagious, but until than a bit of control is necessary. So mark it in.  What days? Times? Get specific.

Until next week (and hopefully not too many temper-tantrum induced Proseccos in the interim), all my love.

XO

-Kate