What are yours?
If any of the themes below resonate with you, I’d love to hear from you.
with love ✨, CATHERINE
Observations on moving, breathing and being. These are mine.
I’ve been writing them down since 2020.
I took a long pause. I’m back now.
On trust
I met a new friend this week. She and I didn't exchange a word. Well, that's not true. I spoke to her, but she didn't respond verbally herself. Rather, she relied on her instincts—tuning into my tone, my posture, my movements, my energy—to communicate with and respond to me. It was a short-lived friendship. I'll likely never see her again. Yet it stayed with me. It left me ruminating on the notion of trust, of what it takes to trust in someone or something else, on what it takes to trust oneself.
How did my newfound friend know that she could trust me?
A reflection on initiation
…
There is disruption that comes with initiation, and with it anxiety and fear, often due to loss of comfort, of routine, of identity. These challenges in turn bring about overwhelm, worry, self-doubt.
No wonder we run.
It’s easier instead to hold on (to dear life) to that which might only offer a false sense of security and certainty, but a sense of security and certainty at that—less frightening than to embark on an initiation to…where?
As I received my invitation, I pulled out pen and paper (figuratively) and scribbled out my stock reply. “Thanks so much, but sadly, I’m not available. I’m going for a run. Maybe next time! Enjoy.” I addressed the envelope, put a stamp on it. I laced up my shoes, in fact, and placed my hand on the doorknob.
But I didn’t run.
Instead, I chose to sit…
A reflection on sadness
I’m sad.
I’m not sure I can hide that I’m sad, and I’m not sure that I should. As Brene Brown says, “when we numb the painful emotions, we also numb the positive ones”. I’m not willing to numb joy or happiness or pleasure anymore. I did this for far too many years as a result of walls I constructed around myself in order to protect me from, well, anything and everything—failure, fear, abandonment, rejection, loss, etc. I refuse to make this sacrifice anymore. So this then begs the question—what do I do with this sadness?
I embrace it.
While I don’t want sadness to become my norm, to be my home, I do want to invite it in…
A reflection on penning our own life's story
Stories are often created from ignoring the truth of a person, behavior, situation, culture, system and the like. Within our own lives, we allow ourselves to become actors, learning to play our roles quite well within these stories, both understanding and dancing around the often multi-layered, underlying subtext never to be spoken. We proudly wear our costumes and masks. We diligently show up for rehearsal. Occasionally we dare to improvise, exposing contextual moments of truth, often unknown to most, including ourselves. But eventually, as good actors do, we circle back to the story’s original intent so as to arrive at curtain call as expected.
Pause. Re-read if need be.
Life itself is made up of a compilation of these stories…
A reflection on badassery
bad·ass·e·ry | \ ˈbad-¦a-sə-rē \
1. The state or condition of being a badass: badass quality or character
2. The actions or behaviour characteristic of a badass
bad·ass | \ ˈbad-ˌas \
2. Of formidable strength or skill
One of my best friends stopped through town this past weekend. In addition to sharing delicious food and drink and overall inspiring conversation, specifically we discussed the notion of “badassery”—what it is (IMO, overall impressiveness) and how to both recognize and celebrate this state of mind, in others and in ourselves.
It’s this last part…badassery in ourselves…that kept me up at night: why is it so much easier to acknowledge it in anyone other than in ourselves?
A reflection on breaking open your heart
For many years, I kept my heart closed in an effort to protect myself. After enough hurt and disappointment, I decided that my fear of pain was more important to protect than was my desire for connection to nurture. And so it went. For many years.
And then I found therapy. Similar to my first few years of my yoga journey, I showed up each week, rolling out my mat or sitting on the couch, thinking that that was “the Work”. All the while, I sensed these undercurrents slowly signaling to me that there was more to it. I ignored as much as I could, convincing myself for some time that just showing up was enough.
