Welcome to my new website. And musings on giving birth.
This website has been in development for over a year: longer than the gestation period for a human baby, about the same length of time that a zebra is pregnant, and significantly less than the gestation period for my beloved elephants. (Be thankful my dear mother friends, elephant mamas are pregnant for over 600 days!) Now that I am finally on the verge of publishing it, I find myself sitting on my couch, sobbing. I am feeling relief, nervousness, and tenderness. I have undertaken this project with the hopes of having a space to share a bit more about myself personally, artistically and professionally, as well as having a landing spot for those who are looking to learn more about my work and offerings.
As it so happens, the process of creating this website has coincided with a year of intense loss, transition and reflection for me. Many times over the last year as I have asked myself deep questions about who I am, what I want to do with my “one wild and precious life”, as my beloved Mary Oliver asks us, and what makes life worth living, I have grounded myself with thoughts of how this is a space where I can share myself honestly and authentically. And yet, as my amazing design guide Jocelyn Farrell calmly and compassionately waited, coached, educated, created and made change after change, I found myself questioning and worrying: How on earth could I sum up who I am or what I do? How do I allow words and images to speak for me when my professional life is all about creating human spaces, about connecting in a real, tangible, palpable way. And always, Jocelyn calmly reassured me. “I think that is good.” she’d say when I worried I was sharing too much. She quietly encouraged me to lean into my desire to be more open, authentic and transparent. She was my anchor as I allowed myself to dive down into the messy questions about who I am as a professional, as an artist and as a human being. I am quite sure that without her this website would not exist.
So, welcome, to my little part of the great internet. My little baby. It’s just a drop in the bucket, a grain of sand on the beach, but it’s true and real. And I look forward to meeting you here. I think this moment has me crying because it feels as if when I hit that publish button it is the end. But really, it’s just the beginning, isn’t it? There is always something new to learn, always a chance to turn towards ourselves with compassion, always a chance to reconnect to the present moment through our breath and our bodies, always a chance to rediscover the simple joys of being alive. Join me?
Love, Katie
