Ah, what a year it has been. I have been trying to sit down and reflect upon 2015. Somehow, I can't seem to settle myself down enough to sit quietly and let it pour over me. Maybe it's the excitement of the season that's keeping me in the air. Maybe it's the fatigue of a busy fall and the sleepy winter that wants to take over my rhythm. Maybe it's avoidance. Truth be told, it's all three.
It has been a most unexpected year. If you had told me 20 years ago that I would spend my 39th year learning how to tap into my psychic gifts and use them to bring insight and healing to others, I would have laughed and thought that was cool but would never have believed that I would actually do that.
And all of this writing? I've written and sent one a letter per week for the entire year. I used to think I wasn't good at writing. Now I'm contemplating writing a book!
I've spent the year turning myself inside out and upside down, detaching myself from my old codes, freeing myself from outdated world views that I had either formed on my own or picked up from others.
It has been a year of loss and of gorgeous new beginnings. Back in February, when the Board of Directors of Sweet Briar College announced its closure, I felt like my world was being torn apart. It's hard to imagine feeling that way about a school but Sweet Briar is built upon a community that has been deeply cultivated the years.
Well, the school was saved and the bonds of this community are unbreakable. I have made wonderful new friends through this eruption. Women and men that I never would have met if it weren't for a break down in a pieced together old system.
Which leads me to the theme that has been with me for the last 10 days: Good or Bad?
My school announced its closure: Good or Bad?
My finances are unstable: Good or Bad?
I have a cold: Good or Bad?
It has been fun to ask this question, especially when I'm lamenting just about anything. It doesn't matter what it might be. The physiological response in the body is the same regardless of the magnitude of the lamentation. I pause and ask myself, "Is this good or bad?" Inevitably I end up shrugging my shoulders and smiling because in the moment, I find that I really can't say which it is. Then I am present again.
Try it for yourself!
I am jumping into 2016 with some great programs. Here's what's in store. Be sure to sign up for at least one of my offerings in January to give yourself an awesome kick start to your year.
1. Earth Rise Project: On Saturday, January 9 at 9am Pacific, I will be holding my second Earth Rise Project telecall. This month, I'll be channeling: Honey Bee. Get your buzz on and find out what the bees want to tell us.
2. Eat, Drink, And Be Merry - Kate's Guide To Abundant Health
In this three part series, you will learn a new framework on how to create a steady flow of energy through diet, exercise, and outlook. Whether you're looking for a fresh start for the year or for your life, this class is a must.
3. Joy Coaching: If you're ready for some joy infused transformation in your life in 2016, now's the time to coach with me. If you're on the verge of or have gone through a major change in your life and you're seeking stability infused with joy and freedom, schedule a free discovery session with me. Don't delay.
Do you see that beautiful blue ball at the bottom of this letter? That's our Mothership. On it, life abounds. Your life, my life, our lives. They all abound here. You get to shape your life. You get to shape your reality. My wish for you is for a rich and meaningful 2016 and beyond.
Wishing you joy,
Yesterday brought a fierce wind storm that brought down the weakened giants and sheared the branches clean off the mighty tall ones.
If you were to walk in the forest or on a treed road today, you'd see beautiful greenery littered all around. I've often marveled at these seemingly healthy looking bits of branches strewn about the ground. In fact, I've been puzzling over them for a few years now. For they look so lush and full of life. Why do they break free from their host?
My answer finally came to me during my Grief call last Saturday. This is nature's way of pruning. This is how the tree retains its life force for decades and even centuries. It loosens its attachments to its extremities and lets the wind carry the branches away. In doing so, the energy of the tree becomes more potent. Further, the branches return to the earth to nourish the growth and life of the living organisms around it. What an elegant cycle.
Grief serves the same purpose for us. Grief, fully felt and experienced, allows us to loosen our attachments to that which has passed from our lives or to that which currently no longer serves us so we can release it into the universal field where it is recycled and turned into nourishment for us.
For example, when my grandmother died in 2012 I locked my sorrow into my body and held it there for several months. When I finally sat with my grief and with her, my relationship with her changed dramatically. I released my attachment to her physical presence and in doing so opened up a new connection with her. In many ways my relationship with her now is deeper and more rich than when she was living. It's gone to the level that we would have liked to have but were unable to express in human form. All pretense and social conditioning are gone so we can talk about everything.
Do I still miss her? Yes. Do I still cry sometimes? Of course. And I rejoice in our nourishing relationship that could only come to pass by her passing.
The same is true for the evolution of relationships with yourself and with others. It's true for releasing an outdated career or lifestyle. Grief is the mechanism for releasing anything that no longer serves you.
Grief, fully processed, creates space for the new to come in. It creates space for you to invite in the old that does serve you and that you had moved away from until now.
I invite you to sit with your grief. To allow it to move through you. To step into the wonder of what lies beyond. If you would like a guide for this, you can purchase my Grief recording here.
Wishing you joy,
Last week I shared my grief list with you. It was under the title of, "Flags Half Mast." A lovely high school friend informed me that it's Flags Half Staff. Sails are Half Mast. This produced a giggle in me that tickled my sides. This feeling is reminiscent of finding out that a song has different lyrics from what we thought. Sometimes they are dramatically different.
Here's a couple of my favorite:
One time, John and I were visiting my mom in Tucson. Carol King's, "Your So Vain," came on the radio. All of us were stirred into song. At the top of our lungs we sang, "You're so vain, You probably think this song is about you, don't you, don't you???" At one point, the song builds its rant with, "I had some dreams they were clouds in my coffee, clouds in my coffee..." From the back seat, my mother raised her voice and sang with great conviction, "don't you know that there are GROUNDS IN MY COFFEE??? GROUNDS IN MY COFFEE???"
As if grounds in my coffee is the biggest affront that could ever happen to anyone in their lifetime. Needless to say, we burst into fits of laughter.
I can't tell on my mom without telling on myself too. I've made many lyric foibles in my life but my favorite is, "Rock The Casbah," by The Clash. For more years than I care to admit, what is supposed to be, "Shareef don't like it, Rockin The Casbah, Rockin' The Casbah," I've been singing: "You're really going to like it, Rockin The Cash Bar, Rockin The Cash Bar." The number of times I've belted that out in public is, well, hilarious.
Man, I love rockin the cash bar. All around the world, so many good times are had at cash bars.
Our latest addition to lyric confusion comes from my oldest daughter. When she was 3, she created her own version of Deck The Halls. Where we once sang, "deck the halls with boughs of holly fa la la la la la la la la," we now sing, "Deck the halls with prison lolly fa la la la la la la la la."
None of us know what this means exactly but it makes us laugh.
All this laughter has been a soothing tonic for me over the last few days. My spirits are lifting ever so slightly. I hope you are uplifted by the hilarity of it all too. Let's share in the fun. Reply now and tell me your funniest lyrics story. Let's keep these belly laughs rolling!
Lots of love,
I have several things on tap to share up with you.
1. This Saturday, December 19, 2015 at 9 am Pacific, I'll be doing a telecall on the Winter Solstice. I dedicate this call to owning and working with Grief. Grief, fully felt, is so useful for moving on with life. As we move into full winter, I'm inviting you to join me to move your grief, to use it as fuel to renew. Investment: $10 - Click the link below to sign-up:
2. Eat, Drink, & Be Merry - Kate's Guide to Abundant Health.
To kick off the New Year, I'll be presenting what I've learned over the last several years to live a health-full, joy-full life. My postpartum depression turned a life long interest in health and personal growth into a real life quest for personal survival through diet, movement, and outlook.
This three part teleclass will teach you how to discover:
You'll receive lots of how to's that you can use every day. Plus you'll learn how to figure out what works best for you in your situation.
Investment: $49 - if you are interested in this course, reply to this e-mail. I'll send out more details to you but you need to let me know that you're interested as I won't be sending full information in this newsletter.
3. Earth Rise Project - Earlier this month, I launched my Earth project and channeled Mother Ocean for an hour. It was a slow minstrel of insights and instructions from our salty waters. Next month, on Saturday, January 9 at 9 am Pacific, I will be channeling Honey Bee. Click on the link below to learn more about Earth Rise Project and how to sign up to receive messages from our home.
4. Joy (R)Evolution Coaching - I have one opening for coaching. If you're ready to explore your business, your health, your life in new ways, click the link below to schedule a 30 minute meeting with me to find out what I can do for you. Note, if you don't see a time that works for you on the schedule, please reply to this message and we'll get you scheduled!
5. Intrinsic Potential Bath Salts - As you know, I've stopped making bath salts. I do have some left in stock. If you would like to stock up or to give them as gifts, you can buy them at the following locations:
Healing Waters and Sacred Spaces in Portland, Oregon - Click Here for more info
The Workhouse in Bend, Oregon - Click Here for more info
As I move through my days, I've noticed that the flags are flying at half mast. Every time I see this, my mind jumps through the same thoughts. My first thought is, "there has been a tragedy." Then I think, "Another one." Then I wonder if there were so many tragedies when I was a child. There very well could have been. I just wasn't aware of it. Then I wonder if the event was on American soil or abroad. Honestly, I've lost track. And I don't track their sources. It's too much for my system to bear. I send out my condolences and a prayer for authentic peace to the air and move on, until I see the next flag hanging at half mast. Thought cycle repeat.
I realized this week that I've been half grieving this Fall. This grief has been building to a point that I can no longer ignore it. I'm tipping into full grief.
Here's my list:
1. The passing of many beautiful souls this year. Old friends, friends' parents, family members that are no longer at our holiday table, old friends and acquaintances who are in the final days of their lives, making the most of their time left on this beautiful blue ball. I take solace in my knowing that they are on their soul's path. But I still grieve their passing.
2. The unexpectedness of this year. It has been a good year, yes. But there have been many things that I thought would work out that just didn't. Time marches on. I haven't lost hope by any means. But I am pressed against the jagged edge of reality. I'm being forced to take an honest stock of my life. I'm having to cut a lot of bait that I deeply cared about. For this I grieve.
3. The squeeze of my financial situation. Grief. Rage. Grief. Rage. Grief. I'm like a petulant child whining and stomping her feet when she doesn't get what she wants.
4. The gap between my vision and my reality. My time is like quick sand under my feet. Every week shifts and churns. Nothing is ever locked in. I manage to get things done, miraculously. But this shifting takes its toll on me. My web site, the keeper of my vision, doesn't match what I want to say. It's missing so much content. It continues to do so. More pressing issues make their way to the surface. This galls me to tears. I grieve.
5. I haven't thrown my leg over a horse in five years. I haven't snowboarded in 7. Biking and running are a distant memory. A part of my soul is dry and shriveled like moss in a drought. This part of me isn't dead or dying. It's simply waiting out a dry spell. There's wanting, yes. But she knows the rains will come in time. As long as I don't yank her from her safe haven, she will flourish again.
I'm somewhat of a grief newbie. It wasn't until I cracked myself open several months after my grandmother's death in 2012, that I felt deep grief for the first time in my life. Sadness, yes. Grief, not so much. I didn't know what to do with all that emotion at the time. Now, I have some rituals to support me. I give myself full permission to cry, to write in my journal, to rage, to sleep, to go deep into my grief, to let it wear me out so it can teach me what it wants me to know.
Why? Because grief is the pathway to moving my flags to full mast. It is the magic pill for preventing and treating emotional and physical numbness.
Just as we symbolically honor and recognize our grief as a nation by pulling our flags partway down, I honor and recognize my grief as an individual by pulling my flags partway down. I'm bringing them closer to me, closer to the ground, connecting with them before I set them free to fly.
There is something inside of me that wants to rise up. There is an intense flow of creativity brewing that will bring an evolution to my work that I cannot yet see. But I am so weary. So heavy with grief.
Am I sad? No.
Am I depressed? No.
Am I in a funk? Absolutely.
Am I without hope? Absolutely Not! (in fact, it's pulsing through my veins).
Here's what's happening. I'm on the precipice of living a fully creative life. It's not linear. It's full of chaos. It's a far cry from the normal and "predictable" that I have relied on and clung to as stability in my life to date.
I want to set my compass to this wild creative force. Tethered to my precious planet, I want to climb the mast in the high seas as the wind blows my hair around my face and carries my shouts across the air. I want to be weird. I want to be unusual. I want to be okay with saying things that don't make sense but I speak them anyway. I want to smile and laugh and play my way through this creative gauntlet.
I'm trading in the question, "how?" In exchange, I'm leap frogging from clue to clue, synchronistic event to synchronistic event. I'm breaking the chains of normal and practical and perfection. I'm cutting down and shaking off the dead wood of the past. I'm bringing in parts of myself that I haven't allowed myself to work with before. They refuse to be kept at bay.
For this, I need stability, an anchor. To get hitched with the wild creative, I need to plant my feet in terra firma. What does this mean?
1. I want to coach one more person. I want one brave soul that's ready to plant herself in terra firma and get hitched with her creativity.
2. Just as the President of The United States declares the flags at half mast for a set period of time, I, Kate Eskew, CEO of my life, now declare and place my flags at half mast until the early morning hours of Sunday, December 20, 2015. Further, on Saturday, December 19, 2015 at 10am Pacific, I'll be doing a telecall on the Winter Solstice. I dedicate this call to Grief. If this speaks to you, here are the details:
If you are feeling the pull of grief at this moment, I invite you to declare and place your flags to half mast with me for the coming days. It can be 10 days, like me. It can be fewer or it can be more. Write back to me and let me know that you are. Let me know how you process your grief. I'd love to know.
Here's the thing. You can do this and still have a good time over the holidays. This is my path to perk myself up for the festivities and to revitalize myself for the coming year. The dragging weight that I feel at the moment is a far cry from how I want to feel in the coming weeks. And it's even further from how I want to enter 2016.
Writing this letter is already putting some strength back in my legs. Writing to you gives me purpose. For that, I thank you.
Welcome. This is where I share what's on my mind and in my heart. You'll see that there's an offer to work with me in every letter. I'm shifting that as I go. Whether the offers excite you or turn you off I hope you find a juicy nugget or two in here that infuses you with more of you. Be kind to yourself because you rock. - Kate