Courage Is My Compass

Writing is the easy part for me. Pouring words on the page and letting them reverberate, then settle into their deeper meaning upon editing. They morph into magic and manifest spells, paradigm shifts, internal conflicts, and confessions. 

I am unafraid of the page. The expanse. The blankness and possibility of it all. So simple and sexy. Any emotion feels good between letters and punctuation. 

Creativity is my favorite way to access the divine. 

My ministerial friend and colleague, Sara Wolcott, gave me some of the best writing advice a few years back during a course I took with her. (Take her courses. You’ll only be better for it.) She advised me to write on blank pages. 

Get rid of the lines– they have always been too confining. 

Where in life can we release the lines, the bars to our own cages? Where is creativity busting through, begging to be birthed? 

On Monday, Mars will conjunct Uranus (if you roll your eyes at astrology this is probably not the substack for you) which means fire meets creativity. Mars, the planet of power, conflict, anger, activation, force, and passion meets up with Uranus, who brings innovation, inspiration, and intuition to our goal of liberation and (r)evolution. 

The astrology of this week certainly affirms our recent cataclysmic event in the political sphere. Uranus is ready to break free. This astrological moment is the third chapter in a story we began in January 2021. 

Who were we then? As individuals and a collective? As Americans desperate for a change?

I’m on board with change, for the most. Astrology. And all the blank pages that have led me here. What still haunts me is the publish button. 

Writing is one thing. Doable. Reasonable. Good idea all around. Releasing my words in the wild? Fucking terrifying. 

Not just because I care what you think more than I pretend not to. 

Because last time I pushed that button, the cost was enormous. 

Publicly sharing a blog that expressed my acceptance and support for a loved one cost me mountains of trauma I'm still climbing through and a scolding from an actual judge in an actual courtroom.

I know the power of speaking my truth publicly… and the cost. 

Here’s why I’m stepping back out, a little afraid, but rooted in bravery:

1. I do the impossible. When others say it can’t be done or it’s too difficult–especially when it comes to emotional alchemy– I step up and lean in. 

2. Abusers and bullies don’t get to tell me what to do or how to do it. Their lies will never cover up the searing power of the truth.

3. I am not a hypocrite. With the vast majority of the folks I mentor, writing and speaking their truth to power is common homework. How can I ask someone to do something I know will lead to their healing if I won’t do it myself?

4. It’s my birthday and I love celebrating my solar returns by honoring myself in unique ways. Being brave always makes me feel like myself.

So, if you’re reading this, I invite you on this sojourn with me. 

Writing on blank pages and letting courage be our compass. 

I pray you allow yourself to access and activate your own bravery, as well. If you need a reason today to do something you’re scared to do, use my birthday as your permission slip. 

Do the thing that has been haunting you for far too long today. And if anyone asks why or questions your urgency, just yell, “It’s Katherine’s birthday! And I’m doing the damn thing!” 

What I’ve realized lately is how amazing I am. Not only when I’m succeeding, producing, or leading. When I’m postpartum, physically weak, and pondering my purpose, too. 

As a professional decolonizer, it’s crucial I do this internal work of rejecting capitalism and ableism. As a person, it’s imperative I let myself off the hook for being human. 

This past year I spent more effort than most trips around the sun simply surviving, and yet, as I reflect on all that has gone down, it has been the strongest year of my life. I fought, and pivoted, created, and pitched my way to this moment of a very different kind of success. 

Relationships and opportunities I prayed for for over 20 years have come true this year. 

Sometimes, trauma1 blinds us to the blessings right in front of our faces.

I am so grateful to be who I am. Today and everyday. This is not a casual statement. I have earned this self love through gallons of tears on bathroom and kitchen floors, leaving multiple hypocritical “spiritual” communities, and telling my abusers their crimes to their faces. 

This solar return is a celebration different from any other in my 36 years incarnated. I am not blowing out my candles in a bar, foreign country, or in a body of water. I am relishing in the explosive power of a blank page and the courage to recommit to my voice.

Celebrate with me. Be brave with me. Create with me.

And whatever story you’re writing, I dare you to push publish.