Monday, June 22, 2026

I threw a party for a country I can’t remember, yet which is home.

Hi, Subscriber First Name,

For my fiftieth, I celebrated a place I left when I was three months old and have no memory of—Turkey, the motherland that somehow still lives in my bones. My parents cooked beside me. My sisters cleaned up after me. Friends played doctor and nurse.

I asked for no gifts. I asked, instead, if anyone wanted, to help send me back*. Before my 51st, I’m going to Turkey for the first time since I was a baby.

→ Read On the motherland

It's a piece about building a home out of wanting one and about how very much I did not do any of this alone.

Come practice with me.

Wednesday nights at Lighthouse Yoga Center in Brightwood:
6:30p ET | Vinyasa Flow | 60 minutes
7:45p ET | Restorative | 75 minutes

Plus subbing tomorrow at District Flow on Barracks Row:
Tuesday, June 23
10a ET | Gentle Yoga | 60 minutes

Food for thought.

The breath is the one thing you've carried since the very beginning—since before there's any memory at all. When the rest of it feels like too much to hold, it's still there, asking nothing of you.

→ Lean into the breath via Pranayama Practice

→ Browse the Reflections archive

A little coaching note.

This party reminded me how bad I’ve been in my past asking for help—and how much better everything is when I do. If you're carrying a beginning, a change or a return mostly on your own right now, that's the kind of thing we'd look at together.

→ Work with me

A breath before you go.

Wherever home is for you—remembered, imagined or still being built—take one slow breath into it today.

with love ✨, CATHERINE

IF THIS RESONATED, PLEASE CONSIDER SHARING IT.

*If this is you, my personal Venmo is @catherine_CSM. Tag 🇹🇷 or 🧿.