The Latest on The Freedom Tour

I first met Nicole Daedone, founder of One Taste and author of Slow Sex: The Art and Craft of the Female Orgasm on the phone. Somehow I got offered a free coaching session with her and we spoke the Monday before I left New York City on The Freedom Tour. Within moments she had me feeling safe enough to tell her what was really going on and in and out of puddles of tears, she helped me craft the most beautiful intention for my first leg of my journey. Nicole’s ability to hear what is really going on even if you’re saying something else is profound. She’s glamorous, nurturing, quick-witted, and hilarious. And she’s laser focused on making women happy in order to make the world a better place.

You won’t want to miss this particularly juicy episode of Glimpse TV that I shot this past week in San Francisco with Nicole. If the fact that we’re talking about sex isn’t enough to entice you to watch, tune in to find out why I’m not scared of being “too big” anymore.

A meeting that didn’t quite go as planned.

Last February I sat across from my mom’s literary agent, Ned Leavitt, at lunch. I had scheduled the lunch to ask him questions about the publishing world as I was beginning to get a hankering to write a book. And that’s what we talked about…for the most part.

At the end of lunch as we were paying the bill and Ned began a conversation that both surprised and unraveled me. Here it is, paraphrased to the best of my memory:

Ned: I was so glad when I received your invitation to lunch, Kate, because there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while. What ever happened to your singing?

Me: Oh no, that’s my sister you’re thinking of. She’s the singer.

Ned: No, not your sister. You. I have a vivid memory of you singing for your mother’s fiftieth birthday. Something came through you when you sang that was so earthy and vital and alive and I’ve never forgotten it. What ever happened to your singing?

Me (in tears): Well, I guess the answer to your question is what I just said: my sister.

Hiding my light under a bushel.

(Thanks for the expression, Mom!)

***Necessary interjection: My sister and I have an amazing, deep friendship. We love each other so much and support each other in everything we do. I realized in this moment with Ned that I had given up performing at eighteen after landing a starring role in a Brown University musical my Freshman year because I subconsciously thought that there was only room for one performer in our family. My sister seemed to want it more so I decided to switch directions and focus more on business than on being an artist. Let it be known publicly that my sister is my biggest fan, has encouraged me to tap back into my artist/performer self continuously and has never, in any way, dissuaded me from shining. Any hang ups I’ve had about this have been purely in my head. Thank you Annie for being the most amazing sister I could ever dream of. ***

After I blew my nose and got myself back together, I explained to Ned that I had given up singing and performing so as not to be in competition with my sister. He told me that though he had no doubt that  part of my purpose was to be a leader and community builder in the business world, he suspected there was something else in me.

F*ck it.

Six months later my friend Kirsten Lewis began producing a cabaret burlesque show called Paper Dolls. She asked me to do an act and I politely declined saying: “Oh no, I’m too busy/I’m a business woman not a performer/performing in burlesque shows isn’t part of my brand/(insert other stupid excuse here.)”

Given that I’m about to leave NYC, that I’m embarking on a journey into the unknown, and that I’m leaving more space for possibility by allowing myself to be more of who I am and less of who I’m not, I decided that now would be a good time to let my performer come back out to play.

So on Tuesday night at Paper Dolls at Sway Lounge I let “Bubbles” (my stage name) come out to entertain an intimate group of 75 New Yorkers who braved the cold. Sandwiched between a hula dancer, some girls in pasties and tassels, and my friend Kirsten and her baton, I took the mic for a spin.

And though I was scared out of my mind and I was really pissed at myself for saying yes to this before the performance, as soon as I was out on stage and I gave myself permission to lighten up, I LOVED IT! I tapped into a part of myself that I’ve not invited out in public in at least nine years and IT FELT SOOOO GOOD!

A once in a lifetime (sort of).

It’s not lost on me that this all occurred the same week as I deleted my external drive of video footage for Glimpse TV. It’s not lost on me that since Tuesday night I’ve felt happier, more energized, and more inspired than I have all year. I wrote to a group of friends before the performance that this would be a once in a lifetime chance to see me perform. I think I lied. I think I’ll be doing this more often.

Here’s to doing things that freak you out. Here’s to letting your freak flag fly. Here’s to grabbing the mic and serenading someone (or a hundred someones). Here’s to not hiding your light under a bushel. Here’s to giving yourself permission to be seen.

Much love,

Bubbles

***For those of you in NYC, I’ll be performing in Paper Dolls again on Tuesday, January 18th at Sway Lounge in NYC. Join the Paper Dolls Facebook group and my list to make sure you get the invite.***

And now, Glimpse TV presents….Bubbles!

(Disclaimer to make myself feel better because this is really scary to put this out there: the footage is not professional, there were a few mic feedback moments, and my voice is slightly rusty after not singing for nine years. But progress not perfection! I’m proud enough of it to share it with you so enjoy!)

My NYC Singing Debut: Come Rain or Come Shine from Kate Moller on Vimeo.

What have you done lately that freaked you out?

How did you feel afterward?

Is there a part of you that hasn’t come out in a while that it might be time to invite out of hiding?

Leave a comment!

Letting go is scary.

The thing about letting go is that it’s scary. Even if we’re not completely thrilled with what we’ve got already, at least we know what we can expect with it. Even if holding on means living a bit smaller than we know we’re capable of, not being quite as happy as we suspect might be possible, or feeling ever so much more mediocre than we’d hoped, at least we already know what it feels like. And there’s a seductive, if false, sense of safety and control that comes from knowing what to expect if we stay just exactly where we are.

There’s nothing familiar about letting go, on the other hand. There’s a vastness and there are grey areas and at least a bazillion unknowns. Letting go is choosing d), none of the above, while not having the foggiest idea as to what that might look like.

Going home.

In August I decided I was going to move back home to Maine. I started telling my friends and family. I started making plans. I met with a real estate broker. I researched the rental market. I found a yoga studio in Portland that I really liked. I had practically sent a “Save the Date” for my housewarming party. It felt warm. It felt cozy. It felt safe. It felt depressing.

Uh oh. I thank God for my unwavering trust in the wisdom of my emotions. Within twenty-four hours of my realization that my decision to move “home” was making me feel contracted and depressed, I hatched a new plan.

Untethering.

Inspired by a serendipitous overlap with Chris Guillebeau, author of The Art of Non-Conformity (a highly recommended read), in Portland, Maine, and a dinner with Danielle Vieth, my friend who’s living a largely untethered life quite successfully, I decided to let go.

I’m letting go of agreements, conscious and unconscious, that don’t make sense anymore. I’m letting go of a physical home and living anywhere in particular. I’m letting go of the plan I’ve always had to move back to Maine and have babies. I’m letting go of my lifelong obsession with always having a plan. I’m letting go of most of my physical stuff and as much of my emotional stuff as is possible in this moment, too.

(Please note that the choice to write letting go in the present tense is intentional. It’s a process, not an event. Some days my knuckles are white and I don’t appear to be letting go at all. Some days I’m cutting more cords than an obstetrician doing a double shift.)

One must only be willing.

I’m finding myself on a letting-go roll. Once I was willing to let go of the big stuff (my apartment, living my life according to others’ desires or expectations, and not seeing my own worth, just to name a few) I started to feel really free. My willingness to walk away from what no longer serves me (everything from being a New Yorker to outmoded ways of seeing myself) has uncovered a sense of unlimited possibilities bubbling up. At times I feel practically carbonated with sheer potential.

(I use willingness intentionally here, too. In Barbara Stanny’s Overcoming Underearning she notes that one of the major steps to achieving financial success is being willing to let go of your “ledge.” For some, the ledge is a job. For some, it’s a marriage. For some, it’s a business partner. For me, it’s my apartment and the expired agreements that are attached to it. Stanny points out that sometimes it never becomes necessary to truly let go of that ledge, but it’s our willingness to do so that puts into motion the changes necessary to be free.)

The freedom of letting go.

As I begin to peel my fingers off my ledge I feel like I’m being granted permission to be more myself. I’ve had more business ideas, more creative impulses, and more inspirations in the past several weeks since I began this process of letting go than I’ve ever remembered having. Am I waking up from time to time totally terrified and convinced that I’m crazy to consciously choose to be homeless and drive around the country indefinitely? I sure am. But I’m chalking it up to an Upper Limit Problem and moving on.

I feel lighter. I feel energized. I feel hopeful. And I feel free. I always thought I felt free before but I hadn’t realized the degree to which my compass was set to a True North dictated by what I was holding on to and unconsciously allowing to define my life. And my willingness to let go of those things and reset my True North to the magnetism of my own dreams and desires seems to have set me free on a far deeper level. Ms. Joplin was on to something when she sang, “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.” When you’re willing to let it all go you find out what’s underneath all of that stuff. When you’ve stripped off enough layers and are truly willing to lose it, then you get to feel free (and go hang out with Bobby McGee).

Your turn.

So, whaddya think? Are you ready to let go with me?

If you answered yes, here’s a quick exercise to get you started. Get a pen and paper and actually do the exercise. Don’t just think about your answers. Just trust me, it works much better when you write it down:

• Write down something big you’ve been holding on to because it feels safe or comfortable but that, deep down, you know has you shackled.  (I can almost guarantee that the first thing that popped into your head is it. Even if it scares you, write it down. You don’t have to let it go right now. Just write it down.)

• What do you get from holding on to this thing? Write it down.

• What would you feel like if you let go of this thing? What would it allow you to do that you don’t feel like you’re able to do now? Write it down.

• Are you willing to let go of it? Write yes or no. (No is a perfectly fine answer. Sometimes it’s just not time yet.)

• If you answered yes to the last question, what is one specific action step you can take right now or very soon towards letting go of this thing? (For example, you could write it down and burn the piece of paper as a ritual, you could write a resignation letter, you could put your house on the market, you could have a conversation you’ve been meaning to have for a while, etc.

• Do the action step immediately, or if that’s not possible, schedule it in your calendar for sometime in the next week.

I can’t guarantee you’ll feel free right away. Instead you might feel nauseous or as though there’s no floor under your feet. That’s okay. Hang out in the void for a while. Cry or write or dance or scream. Or cry while you’re writing and dancing and screaming. Just stay willing to let go. And when the angst and groundlessness passes, enjoy the hell out of the freedom that’s just on the other side.

FREE Teleseminar on letting go.

Want more? Join my mom, Dr. Christiane Northrup, Team Northrup, and I for a free teleseminar on The Freedom of Letting Go on Tuesday, November 16^th from 8:00 – 8:30pm EST. Rsvp@teamnorthrup.com to reserve your spot and for call-in details. (If you’re a Team Northrup member there’s no need to RSVP.)

Leave your stories, insights, answers to the bulleted questions, and results from your action steps below. Tell me what you think. I’m interested. Seriously.

I’m at that age when suddenly all of my friends are getting married and having babies. I’ve been around more pregnant ladies and babies in the past six months than ever in my life and I absolutely love it. It’s magical, mystical, and mind-blowing to me that human beings are actually made inside other human beings. The creative potential that we hold as humans is so HUGE. When I start to think about it for too long I have to stop because sometimes I feel like my head will explode with the sheer wonder of it all.

The thing about birth, whether it’s an actual baby or some other brilliant creation, is that it’s messy. I’m in the process of birthing a new project that I’m cell-buzzingly excited about, but the reality is it’s not all rainbows and plush ducks and onesies. I keep waking up in the middle of the night panicked because the thing is, once you give birth to something, your life as you know it is over. And that’s certainly good news in most cases. (Every parent I’ve ever asked has told me that having kids was the best thing they’ve done in their entire lives.) I know that as I birth this project that I’m in the process of creating I’m saying goodbye to my life as it is and welcoming in massive amounts of adventure, the unknown, and infinite possibility. And it’s all kind of scary.

Having never given birth myself, nor ever witnessed a birth, I’m certainly no expert. But I’ve heard a thing or three about it from my mom who’s probably delivered thousands of babies (and two of her own) and from the women in my life who have generously shared their stories. My sister and I were obsessed with watching a documentary called Water Babies when we were little. We couldn’t get enough of watching women give birth in water and seeing their tiny newborns swimming around, sometimes within hours or moments after coming out of the womb. I think we were fascinated partly because it hadn’t been so long since we had made that shocking journey from living inside our mom to breathing oxygen and being a separate person. And I think part of the fascination also came from the part of the birth process that still rivets me today: that we have that much life force and potential within us ⎯that it’s enough to create a human life.

As a culture we’ve turned birth into a medical emergency. Women are systematically talked out of the wisdom of their bodies to bring another human being into the world, something that we’ve been doing for thousands and thousands of years. Now, don’t get me wrong, I am deeply grateful for the medical community. Not only was it responsible for paying for my college education (both of my parents are doctors), but also there are times when modern medicine is so necessary and an incredible blessing. When it comes to birth, though, a great deal of extra fear is brought in by a culture that has forgotten that our bodies are designed to be vessels for human life. Is it not enough that when a woman has a baby she’s taking a huge leap into the unknown and saying goodbye to her life, as she knows it? Must we also add to it passing down birth horror stories from mother to mother and a fear that somehow her female body somehow missed the memo and wasn’t passed the innate wisdom to give birth?

My mom was in a documentary called Orgasmic Birth created by Debra Pascali-Bonaro a few years ago. I was blessed to attend the opening of the film in New York City. Watching the film I was so aware of the fact that Debra and her colleagues were shedding a light on something that is a huge taboo and definitely not something that most women are made aware of: that birth can actually be pleasurable. What?! We are taught that suffering buys us something, that those who struggle the most are somehow worthier human beings, and that the only way to get anything done that’s worthwhile is to work your asses off. The fact that Debra, my friend Sheila Kamara Hay (read below for information on her Ecstatic Birth Telesummit), and others in the birth advocacy and consciousness world are bringing awareness to what’s possible for women in birth is revolutionary. It’s also confronting and scary to many. It’s seductive and fascinating to others. What I love about this particular type of consciousness raising is that it’s gentle and feminine. It doesn’t make any woman’s experience right or wrong. It’s simply bringing a fuller spectrum of possibilities to the table so that we, as women, can make more empowered choices around our birthing experiences.

I’m someone who’s always known that I’m going to be a mother. I’m grateful for women like Debra and my friend Sheila Kamara Hay, founder of Ecstatic Birth, who are reminding us that while birth is totally scary and messy and miraculous, there can be a thread of ecstasy within it. Whether you’re pregnant with a baby or a creative project, let this be a reminder to infuse your creations with pleasure. As I birth the project I’m cooking up (more on that later) I’m giving myself permission to feel the fear of it, to panic, and to grieve the ending of my life as I know it. And I’m also giving myself permission to dance, laugh, savor, notice and celebrate the many sparkling gems of joy in the process, and to find ecstasy in the birthing process.

What are you birthing right now?

What’s the scariest part of it?

What’s the most pleasurable part of it?

Share your thoughts on birth…we’re talking babies, books, paintings, business projects, etc…whatever you’re creating right now counts! Leave a comment.



Intrigued by the idea of infusing birth with a healthy dose of ecstacy?

If so, my friend Sheila Kamara Hay has just the thing for you. Intended for birth professionals and future parents, the upcoming Ecstatic Birth Tele-Summit has generated a lot of buzz, opening possibilities, and raising questions about the potential of childbirth. The purpose of the course is to raise awareness that birth is not just something women have to “endure” or “survive.” For the first time ever, leaders in the fields of birth and female sensuality– including Dr. Christiane Northrup and Ina May Gaskin — are coming together to share everything they know about how a woman can ENJOY birth — mind, body, and soul!

The idea of an “Orgasmic Birth” is definitely becoming more prominent. Women are coming forward to share stories that they might have been embarrassed to tell years ago. Many expectant moms also want to know how they can create this sort of experience for themselves. An orgasmic birth is intriguing because it is the antithesis of what we have culturally understood childbirth to be — a potentially excruciating experience.

That said, it is interesting to note how much of a trigger “sensuality” or “orgasm” can still be for a lot of people. A recent thread on Facebook included a woman declaring that the whole idea of pleasure during childbirth is “sick.” The more disconnected we are from our bodies, our sexuality, and our sensuality, the more perverse we might label the whole idea of pleasure in birth.

Saida Désilets, Taoist Sensual Educator and a featured teacher at the Ecstatic Birth Tele-Summit, describes our current situation as this: if human sexuality were a person, we, as a society, are currently stuck in its adolescence. There are few, if any, widespread and fully mature models of female sensuality in our culture. Instead, we are presented with a stark dichotomy of “virgins” and “whores.” In the most mature sense of the word and the aspect that we will be tapping into at the Tele-Summit, female sensuality is about a woman’s connection to herself, her body, and inner wisdom, and how that translates into her experience of the world around her — in this case, her experience of childbirth.

The physical pleasure of orgasm is only one end of the spectrum of what is possible in birth — dancing, laughter, spirituality, empowerment, connection, LOVE… all of these can be brought into birth and are strangely absent from most labor and delivery rooms. If you have the choice, why not prepare to ENJOY birth, rather than endure or survive it?

Cost is $600 if you register on or before October 15, 2010 (which is TODAY!). As my guest, please use the discount code: AUTHENTIKATE for an additional $150 off, bringing the price down to $450. Send us a referral who signs up and we’ll give you $50 off your registration after class starts!

Click here to register for the Ecstatic Birth Tele-Summit

*I am not an affiliate with Ecstatic Birth but I’m really proud to spread the word.*

Before I had ever really gotten to know Colleen Saidman Yee as the incredibly wise, generous, and profound yoga teacher that she is, I knew her as my godmother’s beautiful, funny neighbor. When I spent three weeks in Sag Harbor, NY last summer I fell in love with Colleen and all of her stunning facets: yogini, mother, humanitarian, compassionate soul, teacher, adviser, goddess, sexy badass, business owner, and simply stunning human being. I also fell in love with yoga, and I have Colleen and her husband, Rodney Yee, to thank for that in many ways. I spent the last year doing a 300-hour yoga teacher training with both of them. I originally signed up because I pretty much just wanted to hang out with them and infuse my cells with their example of a truly yummy marriage. Over the course of a year I actually found out that I really like teaching yoga (and I’m not so bad at it). But this realization was a distant second to how spiritually and physically nourishing it was to be around Colleen and Rodney. Colleen and I got to spend this past weekend together at the Menla Mountain Retreat Center in Phoenicia, NY at the Joy of the Yogini women’s yoga retreat. (Synchronistically with my involvement in Bindu Wiles’s The Shed Project, the theme for the weekend was the Goddess Kali, death, impermanence, letting go, and rebirth. I love how the universe works. I really do).  Colleen and I stole a few moments on a bench in the woods so she could share her thoughts on death, marriage, breath, impermanence, busy-ness, and more. I bring you, Yoga Goddess Extraordinaire, Colleen Saidman Yee!

Glimpse TV with Colleen Saidman: From breath to death and all that’s in between. from Kate Moller on Vimeo.