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Weekly Share



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…



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.



Weekly Share



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.



Weekly Share



New Years Eve(ning), just about 10:30PM.

Crawling into bed, I hear ‘tomorrow you will go to Maine.’

So I reach for my iPad + Google pet-friendly Bed + Breakfasts.

The first search measures 3 hours and 33 minutes door-to-door.

Obviously this is the one.

Waking the next morning feels more sad than spontaneous.

I don’t wanna go.

Feeling heaviness is something I prefer not to do in-transit.

But what I prefer is increasingly being challenged by what’s leading me.

…off to Maine we went…

By the time we arrived, a mounting pressure to perk up for Will steered me straight to the bathroom to drop in and (hopefully) out of melancholy.

I turned on the shower + off my eyes.

That’s when I started to feel them.

The trees.

The ones lining the perimeter of our Bed + Breakfast, they were inside of me.

Their dense, thick magnificence rising with might.

They took my sadness + held my thoughts somewhere remarkably inaccessible.

I was left with was the vastest feeling I’ve known.

It frightened me so fantastically that my eyes flung wide open.

I needed proof I was still in the bathroom and not the dark fissures of the forest.

Shower tiles. Phew. Still here.

Those trees must have heard me listening.

And respond they did.

‘Feel us. Feel us. Feel us.’

Not just the ones in Maine. All of them. Everywhere.

Their language, insanely intimate.

‘Open’, they say.

‘We will show you how to receive.’

So every day I open a bit more.

I receive them in spaces and places where it’s usually safer to let my mind lead.

I receive them when I wake, when I eat, when I’m alone, with others, in the middle of the night and fragmented moments throughout the day.

As I do, they’re showing me there’s nothing to hold.

The’ve brought me in too deep to hold.

To that thought. Emotion. Physical Sensation. Person. Idea. Insight. Any of it.

To open this wide continues to be fantastically frightening.

But I guess intimacy is.

Its has to be petrifying to be so freakin redemptive.


There’s much to my story of intimacy. Most of which feels too personal to share. But I will tell you that the belly of my pain has resided in my resistance to receiving.

Nourishment from food. Love from my husband. Connection from others.

It’s complex. And I’m very aware it’s not just mine. It’s collective and buried in aspects of unworthiness, power and patriarchy to name a few. But the reasons don’t matter.

What matters is a desire to reclaim it.

If you share a comparable story of ‘want but can’t have’, I urge you to talk to the trees. Ask for their assistance. Trying to receive is oxymoronic (speaking from someone who has strained that angle).

Receiving can’t be a command.

It must be a request. Ask how to receive.

You will find your liberation is not so much in the answer as it is the bravery to ask in the first place.


Weekly Share



My first holiday away from family, ever.

Blood family and in-laws, that is.

Just Will, Koda and I.

It had to be this way, this year.

I’d wager to bet the stars conspired it as such.

There’s plot points I’m following, a still point I’m being guided to.

And the guidance has scaled in size the past few weeks.

It’s felt ultimatum-in-nature.

Sort of ‘listen up’ (rather in) or forever hold your peace.

So I did (and am).

The haste of the holidays + accompanying guilt for choosing insularity a mere blip in contrast to the seismic direction coming through.

‘Still point, Kate.’

That’s you’re focus.

From here, I was able to greet the ancient hyperventilation-style tears arriving on Christmas Eve and the gentle ones succeeding on Christmas morning.

There was something new about the way in which I was feeling.

An accessibility.

An adeptness to observe multiple realities happening at once.

There were the thoughts. And the emotions themselves.

And than there was me.

Somewhere else entirely, in a different reality, observing.

It felt deeply physical but also not at all.

There was no need to tangle. In fact, it was impossible to tangle.

From the still point, I could cleanly interact.

I used my thoughts to ask questions.

And used my emotions to ride me into places desiring an introduction.

It was as if all realities were in their proper place.

Nothing was overlapped or overworked or asking me to overstay.

There wasn’t a misuse of the mental.

Or a wipe-out in the emotional.

WOW. This place, this point. SO. CLEAR.

And my dwelling here feels stable.

I’ve had ‘holy shit, how did I get here and how do I stay?’ moments.

But even those lucidly live in the mental plane.

And that plane is for questions, not answers.

Answers exist in the still point.

So I ask. And I wait. And I listen.

And I ask. And I wait. And I listen.


I feel as if I’ve been a bit repetitive in my weekly shares lately. Every time I go to impart advice or suggestions, broken record mode hijacks me:

‘Dialogue with your body’ ‘Listen deeper’ ‘Go in’

But I’m pretty sure this is it you guys. We are the ones with the answers. So for this week, the needles riding the same groove.

Until next week (next year!)

All my love.




Weekly Share



December, woah.

Potent month you are.

Maybe it’s the blanket of snow + deafening silence.

Or the fact that Will broke his leg and Koda’s been sick for weeks.

A perfect mix of variables I suppose.

Dropping me into a hollow pit of powerlessness.

Powerless to what’s surfacing in winters stillness.

Powerless to tend the infirmary that’s become my household.

Powerless to face the very old + very violent food cravings mounting like a hellish tidal wave.

I thrash amid my many tugs for external support.

Another piece of toast. This book. That healer. This meditation. More chocolate. Call her. Text him. Make an appointment with that specialist. Ice freakin Creammmmmm.

None of it feels right.

I hear ‘go in’.

Not in a ‘pull-up-your-bootstraps-and-go-it-alone-way’ but kinda.

So I choose to squirm within powerlessness.

And almost instantly, duality drops me.

WAY the hell





I’ve plummeted the staircase of my being and landed on my pelvis floor.

I open my eyes inside my womb.

Where a stream of insights come flooding in.

I recognize I am the creator.

I created powerlessness to find my power.

I created addiction to find this bodily depth.

Bless Will and Koda and the cocoon of winter.

The perfect set of circumstances for revealing.

Here I sit, lower than every before.

The world looks different from this vantage.

My emotions especially.

I can’t be hijacked from where I dwell.

Powerlessness need not exist when I exist in my power.

Enter the chills, the sweet kind.

They carry sorrow + bliss for every moment of violent compulsion.

Because it has brought me here.

And I vow to navigate life from this lower, softer, wholer space.

Root behavior, we shall get to know each other.

Writing this out, I wonder how I will lead others to their version of this place. My next step yearns for yours. So first, I want to offer some context followed by some instructionals.

  1. Understand that this is ‘our’ journey. Know that if you are reading this and are on the sensitive spectrum, we are predisposed to living transcendentally. Inhabiting the root is not our starting point. We must work towards ground. Patience Jedis.
  2. There are some serious roots in our root. Outside of the sensitive story, there is another reason we do not fully inhabit our roots. It’s filled with ‘stuff’. Loaded with hurdles that are collectively challenging our return to the feminine way of being (in males and females alike). There’s much being revealed to me in this regard which I promise to share in future posts. Until than, know, as we descend deeper within ourselves, we are untangling from ancestral patterns + wounds. And this is quite the journey.

Now for some instructionals:

  1. Drop your center of gravity. Literally lower your awareness. Read my posts on trauma + the hsp and mechanics of emotion.
  2. Dialogue with your body. You may have heard the advice ‘talk to your body’ before. I ask you to hear it again. Along this process of ‘dropping’, there are times where we wake up in angst and wonder how and why we are still struggling. I find that anyone who wrestles with addiction is using the wrong mind to ‘overcome’ it.  This mind thinks there’s something to overcome. Trust me, the intellect won’t heal us.  So if you find yourself waking to anguish, reeling with familiar thoughts, rest your awareness on your womb and listen. Feel the energy teeming and sense what’s there. Keep listening. Open a dialogue. This is the wisdom that will heal us.

All my love

Weekly Share



‘The world’s not overwhelming, it’s how you carry it.’ Laura Hames Franklin

For those of us well acquainted with overwhelm, we know it’s discernable appearance – tight bellies, strained eyes + adrenals, stiff shoulders +joints. But there’s a more obscure side, the one coded in our cells. Whether visible to the eye or not, overwhelm transmits an incoherent geometry.

And it’s those jumbled geometries that are in constant communication with the living matrix that makes up our world. If we are unable to perceptibly observe overwhelm in our clenching bodies, the world will reflect it back to us via experience.

So we can see it.

So our jumbled geometries have an opportunity to become coherent.

What is your experience of the world?

Do you feel barraged by people, inspiration, emotions, information, everything?

Do you feel as if the world is coming at you?

This experience is not uncommon for the HSP.

Perhaps we were born into these overwhelmed geometries on purpose.

Maybe we’re meant to carry the world so we become disillusioned enough to go in.

And in is where we rediscover that it is the world that is meant to carry us.

I have a sneaking suspicion this is the case.

But how to do this?

How to begin living from the inside out?

Notice overwhelm. Watch yourself rile when you feel like life is coming at you. And instead of trying to figure it out or pacify it, put your hand on your heart (or somewhere on your physical form) and sense what is there. I’m not talking logic sense; I’m talking feeling sense. From this place ask yourself what you need. Chances are it will be you. It won’t be to appease this or that. You are most likely starving for your own attention. Do this all day long. Until it becomes second nature.

You will wake up one-day feeling such strength.

And on that day, the world won’t ask you to carry it anymore.

Your geometries will pulsate in coherency and you can handle everything now.

{Everything but overwhelm, that’s no longer part of your story}



Weekly Share



Start with what’s available, Kate.

My most recent set of self-instructions.

As sensitive’s, we feel into the void, the possibilities, the future versions of self.

We have no shortage of visions.

Bringing those visions into materialization is our scuffle.

Transporting the timeless into time is no easy feat, until one day it is.

On that day, we exist in both places, effortlessly able to dance between worlds.

I’m learning the only way to do this effectively is to ‘start with what’s available’.

Otherwise tension, overwhelm + paralyzation will keep us in a conditioned state of force and the opportunity to dance will pass us by and by and by.

I’m sharing my own timeless/time continuum as a means to help you break down yours:

Creative Vision :: Knowing I’m meant to share information related to the sensitive journey as it courses through me; in the shape of words, drawings, videos and expressions not yet known. The scuffle lies in how to share when all that’s coming through inundates my system. What’s available? My hands. My pen. My charcoals. My blank notepad + sketchbook. So I focus on setting aside time each day to create and let it arrive in me. And just like that, I’m sharing.

Health Vision :: Knowing I’m meant to fully descend in this body. To feel my insides more vividly than my outsides, somatically sensing from every cell. The scuffle lies in how to do this when my outer reality still feels much more real. What’s available? My diaphragm breathing my ribs and my scull resting on my spine. So I focus on what I can feel and let it bring me deeper. And just like that, I’m fully descending in this body.

Relationship Vision :: Knowing I’m meant to master quiet and exist in its vibration steadily; in sessions with clients, in person with family + friends, lying in bed with my husband. The scuffle lies in how to deal with the noise as it tapers in + out. What’s available? The silence surrounding my form, in the air, the trees, the snow as it falls outside my window. So I focus on the silence I can sense and let it expand me. And just like that, I’m mastering quiet.

The timeless visions need to merge with real time otherwise they can’t exist here. On Earth, which is where we are residing.

Ethereal living is not so fulfilling, I’ve found out.

What visions do you have?

What do you know is possible for yourself?

Don’t get lost in the how.

Focus on what’s available right now.

And watch for the voice that wants to wait…

What effortless action can you take in this moment?

The very easiest one.

Any great artist, musician or creator has had to hone this skill-set.

Join me in the learning curve of dually existing.

The dance is so worth it.

All my love, Kate

Weekly Share



If asked what I want more than anything else, I’d answer you “connection.”

With other human beings, that is.

Growing up I had close friends and my family too, quite devoted.

Yet, I watched those friends + family members interact, desperately wanting what they shared.

I’ve forever longed for a cavernous-kind-of-connection and still do.

Ironic that when you really yearn for something, everything and anything that’s preventing you from having it will arise.

I’ve perceived this narrative of disconnection from several perspectives.

Observing my inability to relax in the context of others.

Accepting my disinterest in surface level relations.

Witnessing the vulnerability of living inside a sensitive form.

I’m aware the storyline will reveal itself fully in the framework of people; it’s where the plot plays out (and not in the solitude of the woods, unfortunately).

So when we had company for Thanksgiving weekend, I sorta expected to unravel.

Terror ensued the moment our guests pulled up the driveway.

My throat, belly, legs; familiarly bracing.

The impending union frightened the marrow in my bones.

I wanted to scream, cry and fury.

Thirty-two years old and this apprehension still trails.

I don’t want distress around others.

And I don’t want to pretend it isn’t there.

‘Help me, please’ I whispered to the sky as I opened the door to welcome them in.

As the four of us gathered around the Thanksgiving table, the discomfort was palpable.

But it wasn’t just mine; it was in all of us.

I could feel their matching desire for a cavernous-kind-of-connection.

Amid the cranberry sauce + candlelight, we floated in an unspoken sea of candidness.

It felt incredibly brave.

As if we were silently pronouncing to one another, ‘stay open’.

We need each other, the four of us who shared Thanksgiving, but all of us feelers.

We require one another’s silent acceptance to stay open in a world where it’s never felt right, safe or permissible to do so.

So if this is you, experiencing disquiet in the context of others, let it be there.

Keep choosing to connect on the level you know is available.

The hearts who want the same will find you.

Be with your throat, belly and legs as they brace to dart you away.

Let your cheeks blush, muscles shake and sweat pour.

The discharge of emotion will unhook you from an outdated story of disconnection and you will find you.

The apprehension around others a mere avenue back.

All my love and the Happiest Thanksgiving,


Weekly Share



This past week may have been one of the loudest on record.

The world is in a mammoth process.

Politics appear to be the reason for our collective spin though in truth, it’s our response. Lifetimes of repressed feelings are here to be known.

And if there’s anything I’ve learned about how to handle the noise it’s not to handle it. 

Noise, quite simply, is trauma and trauma is best tended through presence alone.

How to deal with the urgency that comes with surfacing trauma without ‘handling’ it?

In the words of Risa Kaparo, we turn urgency into gravity’.

We let our awareness of the ground rest the parts of us that are tensing to fight or run the hell away.

It takes perseverance.

Risa continues on saying, The koan of our apparent paradox of ‘not doing’ and ‘not giving up’ can only resolve itself when we come to higher levels of differentiation in our sensing, which extends our presence.’

For us HSP’s, this heightened sensing is a right of passage, one I’m clearly still navigating.

I ran straight to the woods last Tuesday, my aversion to the uproar stronger than my ability to feel gravity. Running didn’t work. It never works (lesson # 792038210).

This commotion is in the fabric of our planet. It’s in the birches as much as it is in all of us.

So deeper in we go.

And it starts with a dedication to a simple shift in awareness.

Feel the ground.

Feel the ground.

Feel the ground.

Different from watching yourself feel the ground, really FEEL your feet on the ground.

Ultimately it’s sensory refinement that will save us.

XO, Kate