morning musings

all we ever wanted. LOVE.

"All we ever wanted,
all we ever needed,
was LOVE." - Lennon & Maisy

Sometimes a song captures me. Just the right moment. Heart wide open. I crawl into the words, the melody, and feel all the feels. It's such an awe-striking experience because you can 'listen to music' and then you can feel music, if you open wide, if you give your full attention & presence (how rare does that feel sometimes), if you breathe purposefully, absorb, and soak in it.

The yoga of listening? The yoga of music? It becomes a spiritual experience in many ways. 

This song brought me to tears. Tears of pure love. Gratitude for being able to access such a feeling. Such a state of being. These young souls sharing such truth - the simplicity and the profound power within this simple truth.


In meditation, in my moments of stillness, my heart & mind often ponder the relationship between humans & love. Between fear & love. Between pain & love. Between suffering & love.

I ponder why there is so much fear running ramped in the world, instead of love. It simply doesn't make sense, when I truly believe that at the core of even the most angry, violent, power hungry, fear mongering souls out there, is a deep desire to be loved, to give love, and to feel love.  

Perhaps it is BECAUSE love is so powerful that it is scary.

This song downloaded this insight for me. It's not that I didn't 'know this' before, but this morning I listened to this song again, then sat in meditation. Instead of knowing, I felt. This is a deep form of clarity. An inner knowing. A process of giving words meaning. It was like a huge beating, almost choking sensation in my chest. 

Wow, I thought.

Love is a beast.


The wicked delicious truth of love, is the more you open to it, the deeper you feel it, the more vulnerable you are to pain. The most horrific, yet inevitable, example of all is death and loss. The harder, more wholly you love(d), the more loss and death hurts. The more you feel. We only know deep grief because we have that same deep capacity for love. We only know emotional pain and suffering, because we have felt the opposite. Because we ARE the opposite. 

So. Living in love is deeply risky, requires astronomical courage, it is a radical act, it is a powerful form of activism. It asks us to step into vulnerable places and somehow, some way, stay open. When a part of us (sometimes a big part, sometimes small) wants to do just the opposite - to protect, to create a sense of safety, control, comfort. However short term and short sighted.  

But what if that was okay?

Why do we crave this sense of (short term) comfort, this perceived sense of safety and control? What would happen if two souls (or many!) stepped into vulnerable places together, and greeted each other in that space with love, openness, honesty? Felt the fear, named it even, but stayed in love. Sat with the discomfort. Declared it even. But stayed in love. Instead of ducking into the shade 'n shadows of fear.  

I definitely don't have all the answers, but I love-the-heck outta exploring the questions. 

A little meditation musing that had to be shared...

Brave. Bold. Vulnerable. Wholehearted.

In Love, always.
xo kate

i found LOVE in a hopeless place

Yes. I found love in a hopeless place.  When I play the song "We Found Love" by Rihanna it lights up this very desired feeling. This delicious memory and ongoing learning.

I play it when I'm scared. I play it when I'm happy. I play it when I need a dose of courage {like when I was driving to teach my first Parliament Hill Yoga class for Lululemon}. It's the song I shared at a Lulu Ambassador Summit during a 'theme song' type group share/exercise. So rad. So right.

The layers are unending. It's also embedded in this #morningmusings moment I'd like to share with you.

It's about LOVE. But not the kind you'd expect.

Awesome n Visceral

I'm was watching this show called 'The Leftovers' ... and there's this scene in S1 E3 where a priest (and husband) carries his wife from bed to the bath. Barely any life in her eyes. Frozen. Lifeless. Limp limbs dangling from his arms as he carries her. 

As I watched, I felt my whole body begin to tingle. Shake. A full visceral experience. Uncontrollable tears started to flow down my face.

A remembering. A knowing. An un-foreshadowing foreshadow of an experience.

I can remember a phase in my recovery, a long one, when I would count down the hours and minutes til sleep time. Ice helmet on, drugs consumed, waiting for 7:30 or 8:00pm to arrive so I could go to sleep. A time that seemed to be the most seemingly acceptable hour to end one's day, and the only way I could make the next one possible.

I was lovingly tucked into bed. Yet it was laced with such bittersweet energy. It felt like the rest of the world kept moving, going, living. And there I was. Longing for relief. For sleep (which was rarely restful). Feeling like life was passing me by. 

I waiting until I could hear (my then husband) walk down the stairs, and would cry myself to sleep often.

Despised Longing

I hated it. Yet I longed to sleep. I longed to shut it all out. Being awake sometimes felt like this unbearable reminder of Old Kate, and Old Kate's life, capabilities, etc. I longed for the pain to stop, even if just for a couple hours til I tossed and turned myself awake. Over and over.

Day after day. Hoping the next day would be different. Better. More ease. More joy. 

While "in it" (in this phase of recovery), the next day never really felt different. It felt never-ending. An impossible climb. No improvements. 

Moments of relief, yes, but I either:: 
1. Quickly dismissed these moments because the whole wasn't "better", or didn't seem that way in the vacuum I chose to live in, 
2. OR, I eagerly filled. Then paid the price. More pain. More fatigue. More fog. Constantly playing catch-up (that is until I learned to live in the sweet spot, more on that another time).

Climbing out of the Vacuum

But the thing is, the day's DO add up. Time does pass. And all my efforts of healing, therapy, rehab, movement, meditation, doctors, specialists, faith AND ease (non-doing) stacked up. They're cumulative.

Little daily choices, in a seemingly hopeless existence, add up. They friggin do add up. 

Hope adds up.

Faith adds up. 

Awareness sets in.

Healing begins from within.

Resistance loses its luster.

Acceptance shows up, crumb by crumb.

We adapt AND we keep going.

Peace is possible.

Love is possible. 

Possibility is possible.

I found love where I didn't think it belonged or was possible. 
I found love in a hopeless place.
I learned to receive love. I learned to give love.
I felt love. 

And I keep learning. Every damn day.
Refining. Re-learning. New learnings.


Love. This magnificent power that lurks within each cell. Each misery. Each trauma. Each disappointment. Each seemingly impossible moment. 

The love that I felt as I watched that scene in The Leftovers, was unconditional love. True deep real love. Seemingly rare love. Not the kind we'd even choose (because societally we tend to chase romantic love and confuse the word love as being synonymous with that one type of love), but somehow is the most important there is.  

There are no words for how I grateful I am to know such love. And how truly committed I am to learning how to live in that state of being.

To be that love, to give that love, and to receive that love ... to/with/from the incredible souls who I am blessed to call my family & my 'family', as well as to/with/from those who I don't even know yet.

This capacity is unending. Unlimited. Unbounded. Unrestricted. Available to us all. And takes a whole heck of a lotta practice. Openness. Courage. Vulnerability. And a possibility mindset. To love with your wholeheart, even when it hurts. Even when it breaks. Even when it's hard.

A LOVE PROJECT is being born. Incubating.