Ditching the spreadsheet

Once upon a time, not too many years ago, I made decisions based upon a giant spreadsheet that I kept in my head. I weighed the hypothetical effects of all possible scenarios on everyone who could possibly be impacted by my decision (the environment and future generations included), checked in with my long list of “shoulds”and then I’d choose the option I believed brought the greatest amount of good and the least amount of guilt. This process was used to determine driving routes, plan meals, choose children’s activities, accept invitations, make career moves. Everything. This was an extremely exhausting mental activity, and often left me paralyzed in complicated mathematical indecision as well as feeling depleted. The question what do I want? seldom crossed my mind, and it didn’t matter anyway, I believed I was too much to too many, and I hadn’t the skills to even know what I wanted.

Flash forward a few years and my decision making process is unrecognizable. The first questions I now ask myself when faced with a choice to make are:

What is my body telling me? Am I attracted to the idea, invite or a particular choice? Do I feel lit up inside?

If so, I’ll follow up with:

Is this in alignment with my intentions?

If so, I proceed. (If not, I gracefully decline or wait a bit for more clarity.)

This new approach to decision making proves to be much less stress and much greater pleasure for me, and in turn, for my people. Yay!

The paradigm shift from outside input to inside input didn’t occur with the flip of a switch. I had to dance around the pond of self-care and self-trust and dip my toes a few times in before committing to practices that led to the big shift. They help me get in touch with my body, mind and spirit, so that I can use them as tools to become wiser and more deliberate about creating the life I want to live. Some of the biggies include:

  1. Mindfulness meditation – one of the best ways to get to know how we think and feel is to sit with ourselves and do nothing. Or rather, try to focus on one thing as simple as the breath and see what actually happens. The thoughts come, giving us opportunity to observe them. What are they? What’s their quality? Do they serve? Is there a pattern? AND how does the body respond to different thoughts?
  2. Yoga – another opportunity to practice mindfulness, but with movement, which takes some of the pressure off for those of us who tend toward anxious. Both the classes I teach and attend are a constant invitation to enter the body with full attention to see what’s going on. What sensations am I feeling? How do they change? Where do I feel energy? Both home practice and attending class offer opportunity to practice decision making. What do I want to do next? How deep do I want to go? Do I want a prop or a different variation of the pose?
  3. Wild writing – like meditation, but different. This specific journal practice –writing for a specific amount of time without letting the pen leave the page– allows us to see what’s wanting to come out. What are the themes? What are we imagining? Craving? Where in the world do we want to go? What are our interests? Dreams? Liz Gilbert says that the opposite of depression isn’t happiness, but curiosity. Writing helps us answer the question: what are we curious about?
  4. Check in (*and act accordingly) – first thing in the morning, last thing at night and a gazillion times in between. Just like we’d do with a visiting friend or a child, we can ask, how is my nervous system? How is my attention? What may l be needing? (Food? Water? Sunlight? Rest? Movement? Beauty? Nature? Vitamin B or D? A friend?) Once you know, give yourself the care you need. You are the only one who can truly know what you need. Trust you.
  5. Pay attention to your joy meter— Notice when you get a goose-bumped skin orgasm. Notice when you’ve lost track of time because you entered a flow state. Notice when you’re taken aback by the beauty of the moment. Search out more of these scenarios. Likewise, notice when you retract in fear or disgust. Inquire about the why. Can you eliminate these encounters? If not, can you grow into and through them for deeper self-knowledge? What skills may you be needing?
  6. Find support – personal growth (self-care) is a team sport. Find your teammates. Pay for it if you must, YOU ARE WORTH IT. Hire a coach or therapist. Join a group. If it doesn’t exist, create it! You deserve support, so search high and low until you find the right fit. Accountability partners are crucial. We learn in conversation, and when we share what we learn, we all learn faster and deeper.
  7. Practice gratitude – As Robin Wall Kimmerer says, “gratitude breeds abundance.” Feeling abundantly blessed leads to well-being and greater confidence, including greater confidence in decision making. Scan your day each evening for specific experiences you are grateful for. Paint yourself a mental image of the experiences, write them down or share them with a friend via text.


These practices, among others, have helped transform my headspace. There’s less tension due to less “figuring out”, and there’s more ease and freedom. I don’t know exactly where or when I adopted the beliefs that formed spreadsheet thinking, but I’m grateful for plasticity of the brain, wisdom of the body and all peeps teaching and learning with me on this exciting path.

Busted monk

Back when I was a teen in the throes of my eating disorder, I often despaired that I wasn’t an alcoholic instead of a compulsive binger and exerciser. I lamented not being able to simply stop eating, swearing off food and all the decisions it required of me. Or pills, I thought, that would be okay too. I could stop taking meds forever. But no, my addiction revolved around food, the second most important ingestible to my survival.

Today, however, I am thankful for my history with food. I can see that by learning to negotiate outings, desserts, rest-stop snack options and all the emotions and anxiety they conjure, I have grown. I see that the beauty of my struggle lies not in denying myself certain experiences, but in learning to be in relationship with them.

This rush of gratitude came on the heels of hearing a classic Chinese Zen tale about an old woman who graciously housed a monk on her property. After many years of witnessing his austere practices and delivering a daily meal to his hut, the woman one day decided to send a beautiful maiden in her place, instructing the girl to embrace the monk very warmly before leaving his hut. Later, the old woman questioned the monk about the test, asking how the girl’s warm body felt pressed against his. The monk replied, “like a withering tree in the winter”. With that, the crone cursed the religious man, called him a fraud and kicked him off her land, very angry he had learned nothing in all that time.

This story hits home to me in a very visceral way. As I continue mindfulness studies and exploration, I am beginning to  understand that spirituality in no way requires perfection or shutting off a part of ourselves like the monk in the tale. Instead, spiritual growth is entrenched in humanness. Humans respond to beautiful young bodies, just like they respond to warm loaves of banana bread fresh from the oven. Human bodies make all sorts of gloriously sticky messes and human minds make all sorts of holy and elaborate mistakes in their never ending quest to seek positive feelings and avoid negative ones.

The art of being a spiritual human is not to not be tempted, to not make mistakes or to not feel uncomfortable, sad or fearful. The art of being human is to feel all those things, but to know deeply, at the same time, that all is okay, even if the physical body is in distress, the emotions are overwhelming or the ego is begging for something that could potentially be dangerous.

Had I been an alcoholic like I’d once wished, perhaps life would have been more cut and dry, a little more black and white. Perhaps I would have learned much quicker how to deal with difficult emotions once cut off from the bottle. Or perhaps that learning curve would have been too steep and those I love would have had much bigger and more painful repercussions to deal with as a result of my addiction. Luckily, that was not the case, and luckily, having to navigate the world of consumption has provided me ample opportunity to learn, grow and pay attention to my body and its messages, though they haven’t always been so obvious.

With time, binging morphed into limiting calories. (Who has time and energy to run all those miles to burn them?) Restriction eventually led to avoiding hunger. Grasping for a feeling of ideal satiation led to hoarding nuts like a squirrel. A high-fat diet eventually led to an angry gall-bladder. And this sensitive organ now speaks to me very clearly about my food choices, my increasing tolerance and my physical and mental health.

What a ride!

Different than the monk living in isolation and deprivation, my journey with addiction has allowed me to transform while also staying connected to the world, to my body and to the people I commune with over food and drink.

And the journey continues.

Lately it is providing me insight regarding more general discomfort and pain. I have discovered I can go hours without eating and be okay. I have realized I can be really hungry and be okay.  Surprisingly, I can be very full and be okay too. And the beauty lies in these discoveries seeping out of my food world and into my emotional life. I am finding that I can be angry and be okay. I can be sad and be okay. I can be confused and overwhelmed and be okay. I can even disappoint others and be okay. I do not have to stuff the feelings with food, purge the feelings with exercise or completely lose my shit to shake up overwhelming emotion. I can pause and  ground my body by sensing the breath in my belly and the weight of gravity holding me securely to the earth. By tuning in and paying attention, I can perceive information the body gives me about my experience, which is vital, as the body seems to know long before the mind can comprehend.

For this growth I am grateful for my complicated, yet slowly simplifying  relationship with food as well as for my yoga practice, which teaches me time and again how to return to my corporeal home, physical proof of my humanness and glorious gateway to the spiritual.

Namaste. Cheers. And buen provecho.

Hallowed new yoga offerings

Looking for blank paper this morning, I opened one of the discarded and half-used notebooks I keep in a back drawer and saw written in beautiful little boy script:

Philosophy questions:
#1. Is the purpose of life just to die? …

Whoa. Good question, son. This one’s got my wheels turning too. I’m not sure. But you’re right, these bodies we inhabit are at some point going to become lifeless. Empty of breath and spirit.

Scary thought, isn’t it?

Yep, but an appropriate one to contemplate as Halloween, All Saints Day and my personal favorite, Day of the Dead, are just around the corner.

Halloween is a day of costume, candy and occasional gore. All Saint’s Day seems to mean going to mass. But Día de los muertos, as I remember from living in Mexico, is a vibrant CELEBRATION.

It is pulsing with life and activity as celebrants seek to connect with friends and relatives no longer walking this dimension. Revelers eat the departed’s favorite foods, drink tequila and nibble on ornate candy skulls made of sugar. They build ofrenda alters adorned with marigolds and make fiestas at the cemetery. Most importantly, they send prayers and well-wishes to help support their loved ones’ spiritual journey in the after life.

This year I get to celebrate Día de los muertos not by participating in parades of painted faces and drinking tequila, but by leading yoga in a brand new space, and this act feels just as sacred and just as much a reason for celebration. On November 1, instead of looking to connect with the spirits of souls now passed, I will gather with others looking to connect with the living spirit of breath. We will celebrate breath, the ever-constant companion in our journey from birth to death, and we will use it as a metronome as we move our bodies. We will move and breathe in a new space created with the vision of healing mind and body by invoking the spirit.

I am excited to be joining Great Plains Mental Health as they expand their therapeutic offerings, and I invite friends, family and friends of my friends and family to join me next week as we christen the space with our yoga practice, connecting spirit, mind and body. We will end class on Día de los muertos, like we do in each and every class, reverently honoring the sacred practice of rest and the inevitable death of the body, as we lie down to rest in savasana, corpse pose, and let the resin of our practice soak into the cells of our living and breathing bodies. And perhaps, through continued practice and contemplation we will come closer to answering the ageless question about the purpose of life.

I’d be honored to have you join me on the mat:

Wednesday, Nov. 1 12:00 noon
Saturday, Nov. 4 9:30 a.m.
Monday Nov. 6 6:00 p.m.

First class free.
Drop-ins $10

Happy Halloween, feliz Día de los muertos and namaste,

Katie