It feels wrong to say I loved this, because it shows such a raw, primal reaction to your situation, but I love that you wrote it, that you were brave in sharing it, and that it touched on that part in me that recognises metanoia (even if I feel there’s a long way for me to go). Thank you 🙏🏼
Dear Kay—thank you so much for visiting here and reading my first letter! And I love that you say you loved this! Yeah, it does feel wrong, doesn't it—but it's not at all. We ought to love all sort of human experience and expression—it transforms us. I hear you that Metanoia Road is a long, looooooong, road. Indeed, it's a lifelong journey and may we have a few more crises along the way to invite more metanoia! Thanks again. Appreciate you. See you here again soon. 💙
Wow, Kathryn... Such clarity and vulnerability. I really felt the strait jacketed, breathless howling moment with Henri by your side. I turned my laptop upside down to look at the beautiful cottage right side up and I felt such relief. It gave me a strong sense of how nightmarish, disorientating and distressing it must have been when things fell apart... Good to have this framed as a necessary devastation on the way to a better place.
Dear Araxi—thank you for stopping by and for reading my first letter. I love how you turned the laptop upside down to see the cottage the right way up! I'm glad it brought relief. It was an odd and amusing photograph to see on my phone—but it really was so dislodging! And yes, your reframe is helpful indeed! And speaking of clarity—your comments, your writing in general, sizzles with clarity! Love reading you. Thanks again for joining me here. See you again soon. 💙
Ha! I didn't mean to suggest a reframe! I meant that you are already doing that. Should read 'It's good that you frame this as a necessary devastation on the way to a better place.' It really feels encouraging and warms my heart when you say my writing sizzles with clarity. Though here we have a shining example of the absence of clarity, it's certainly what I aim for. I reread a lot and try to hear my words from the 'outside', through a reader's ears. I guess we all do that but then I often find writing unnecessarily confusing. Including my own sometimes!
The undeniable truth that drama comes in reliving the experience, writing it and sharing it: something I had not considered until now.
Sincerely,
Your LWS phriend in Phoenix (the city in which I have begrudgingly inhabited for nearly three decades and am now beginning to realize how metaphorical its name is for my own writing evolution).
Dear Amie—thank you so much for pausing here to read my first letter. And, wow, indeed—your phoenix! I'd love to learn more about your writing evolution sometime and how the archetype of the phoenix exemplifies that. Thanks also for your response to the idea that drama comes from the telling/reliving of the experience. It's a rhetorical exercise in a way, right? We need to be precise and vivid in order to truthfully communicate and connect and this invites certain technical choices? Still thinking about this . . . Meanwhile, off to google more about Phoenix! See you here again soon. 💙
Love this piece, KK and empathise with your journey. Liminality is a word I learned years ago, when I was going through a previous pain. It really helped to know that if I was feeling uncomfortable, it likely meant changes were coming, and those changes could be good ones.
Funily enough, just in the last few days I have gone through my own 'upside-down house' experience (what a wonderful analogy!) and today I deleted a journal I had been writing for a few years, which I found was mainly filled with whingeing and whining about my life. So today I deleted the thing and now I move on into a new chapter in my life.
Dear Inge—thank you for visiting here and for reading my first letter. Love what your write about liminality and discomfort and how that feeling leads to good changes. It's in the last few years that I've explored my capacity for being in that discomfort and I've very slowly built up strength and strategies to experience that. I also love how you deleted a journal filled with whingeing and whining! Yay! A few years ago, I started drawing a line in my journal and writing 'enough of that for now' 🤣! I celebrate you for that deletion and for moving into a new chapter of your life! I just peeked at your Substack and hopefully I'll be able to follow along on your new chapter! Thanks for joining me here on Metanoia Road. See you again soon. 💙
Literally drawing a line - I like it! I really do believe in the healing power of writing things down but I do wish I 'd sometimes drawn my lines a little earlier...it'll be different from now on...probably...
You know, I think it also shows that change can sometimes take soooo loooong. I spent a couple of weeks over Dec/Jan this year reading all my journals since my move to Scotland and it's true that I kept circling back over the same concerns. There was movement forward, but it wasn't along a straight path—more like a spiral (which is pretty in retrospect! 🤣). I tried some other strategies too. My favourite is one from Julia Cameron in The Artist's Way. She encourages us to create a "god box" (call it what you will—I called mine a "unicorn box") and in it I placed notes about all the things that concerned me but that I couldn't solve at the time. And I kept moving forward, working on self and service. Sometimes you don't have the tools at hand to solve some problems. Sometimes, like Einstein supposedly said: we can't solve our problems with the same thinking we used to create them. So, noting them and putting them aside helped. Over the years, I kept opening the box and seeing what I had in there but it took a long time to be able to solve them. In fact, they sort of dissipated over time. Lovely chatting with you, Inge! Wishing you more healing writing!
So much to think about here. I love the idea of a god box...if you'd asked me a few months ago, I'd have said it would have to be a pretty big box but now quite a few of the things that seemed insuperable are now either less painful or simply in the past. 'Dissipated over time' is spot on! Life is certainly a journey, isn't it? Healing writing to you too!
Beautiful piece Kathryn. I had not heard of the concept of metanoia until now, but I am certainly on my own "Metanoia Road" following my MS diagnosis just over 5 years ago. Glad to join you on this journey 💛
Dear Tracy—thank you for visiting here, for reading this first letter and for your love and strength, which I received with openness and gratitude. Thank you also for letting me know how this spoke to you and how you have experienced this too. This writing we do—it's like a collaborative experience—we are all working to find ways to express our experiences and this in turn opens something for others to recognise their experience. It's magical! See you again soon. 💙👼🏼
Hey, Em! Thanks for stopping by and reading! I'd love to know more about your upside-down-house sometime. So pleased you found the footnotes, new authors and new words useful! See you again soon. 💙
This is beautiful. The way you describe the physicality of anguish is familiar to me - it is exactly what I felt when I realized that my marriage had collapsed some thirteen years ago now. That hollowness and tightness at once, sometimes alternating! And the illustrations you have chosen - gorgeous - did you make them?
Also, about the illustrations - I 'collaborated' with an AI tool. I like to say I collaborated as I worked hard to write descriptions/prompts, but they definitely were the creative talent in this project! 🤣 Reminds me, I'll have to add captions. Thanks!
Dear Michelle — Thank you for stopping by and pausing to read my first letter. Thank you also for choosing to support my journey with a subscription — it means so much to me — and for all your support in the past! Bear with me as I settle into this new voice and new rhythm here. I'm curious and excited.
Thank you for sharing that the physical experience of anguish is familiar. I've only in the last couple of years begun to explore my bodily sense of self and experience—it's remarkable how much knowledge our body holds. The trick is to find words to express that!
I just peeked at your Substack—wonderful to see some of the photos you have been gathering! What an amazing and important body of work you are creating.
Dear Brittany — Thank you for taking time to visit here and to read this first letter. I am pleased to see you found these reflections compelling. See you here again soon. 💙
Dear Scott — Thank you for stopping by to join me on this journey. Thank you for choosing to support my journey with a paid subscription—your support of ALL I do has meant so much right from the very first 28 Days of Joyful Death Writing we did together. I'm glad you're hear to read these words. See you soon. 💙
Such a powerful and brave reflection KK. Thank you so much for bringing this to the page and for introducing the term 'metanoia'... it makes so much of my life make better sense!
Dear Helen - how lovely to see you here in the comments! Thank you for stopping by. I'm pleased the term 'metanoia' has made sense. Would love to learn more about that some time in the future. Meanwhile, be well and see you soon.
I have held off on reading this because I knew, without knowing anything of its contents, that I wanted to read it when I had no distractions and could give it all of my attention.
I am so grateful for your tender truths. They are gift, as are you. I am looking forward so very much to future letters and learnings xoxo
It feels wrong to say I loved this, because it shows such a raw, primal reaction to your situation, but I love that you wrote it, that you were brave in sharing it, and that it touched on that part in me that recognises metanoia (even if I feel there’s a long way for me to go). Thank you 🙏🏼
Dear Kay—thank you so much for visiting here and reading my first letter! And I love that you say you loved this! Yeah, it does feel wrong, doesn't it—but it's not at all. We ought to love all sort of human experience and expression—it transforms us. I hear you that Metanoia Road is a long, looooooong, road. Indeed, it's a lifelong journey and may we have a few more crises along the way to invite more metanoia! Thanks again. Appreciate you. See you here again soon. 💙
I love the idea of loving all sorts of human experience - so very true. X
Wow, Kathryn... Such clarity and vulnerability. I really felt the strait jacketed, breathless howling moment with Henri by your side. I turned my laptop upside down to look at the beautiful cottage right side up and I felt such relief. It gave me a strong sense of how nightmarish, disorientating and distressing it must have been when things fell apart... Good to have this framed as a necessary devastation on the way to a better place.
Dear Araxi—thank you for stopping by and for reading my first letter. I love how you turned the laptop upside down to see the cottage the right way up! I'm glad it brought relief. It was an odd and amusing photograph to see on my phone—but it really was so dislodging! And yes, your reframe is helpful indeed! And speaking of clarity—your comments, your writing in general, sizzles with clarity! Love reading you. Thanks again for joining me here. See you again soon. 💙
Ha! I didn't mean to suggest a reframe! I meant that you are already doing that. Should read 'It's good that you frame this as a necessary devastation on the way to a better place.' It really feels encouraging and warms my heart when you say my writing sizzles with clarity. Though here we have a shining example of the absence of clarity, it's certainly what I aim for. I reread a lot and try to hear my words from the 'outside', through a reader's ears. I guess we all do that but then I often find writing unnecessarily confusing. Including my own sometimes!
The undeniable truth that drama comes in reliving the experience, writing it and sharing it: something I had not considered until now.
Sincerely,
Your LWS phriend in Phoenix (the city in which I have begrudgingly inhabited for nearly three decades and am now beginning to realize how metaphorical its name is for my own writing evolution).
Dear Amie—thank you so much for pausing here to read my first letter. And, wow, indeed—your phoenix! I'd love to learn more about your writing evolution sometime and how the archetype of the phoenix exemplifies that. Thanks also for your response to the idea that drama comes from the telling/reliving of the experience. It's a rhetorical exercise in a way, right? We need to be precise and vivid in order to truthfully communicate and connect and this invites certain technical choices? Still thinking about this . . . Meanwhile, off to google more about Phoenix! See you here again soon. 💙
Love this piece, KK and empathise with your journey. Liminality is a word I learned years ago, when I was going through a previous pain. It really helped to know that if I was feeling uncomfortable, it likely meant changes were coming, and those changes could be good ones.
Funily enough, just in the last few days I have gone through my own 'upside-down house' experience (what a wonderful analogy!) and today I deleted a journal I had been writing for a few years, which I found was mainly filled with whingeing and whining about my life. So today I deleted the thing and now I move on into a new chapter in my life.
Dear Inge—thank you for visiting here and for reading my first letter. Love what your write about liminality and discomfort and how that feeling leads to good changes. It's in the last few years that I've explored my capacity for being in that discomfort and I've very slowly built up strength and strategies to experience that. I also love how you deleted a journal filled with whingeing and whining! Yay! A few years ago, I started drawing a line in my journal and writing 'enough of that for now' 🤣! I celebrate you for that deletion and for moving into a new chapter of your life! I just peeked at your Substack and hopefully I'll be able to follow along on your new chapter! Thanks for joining me here on Metanoia Road. See you again soon. 💙
Literally drawing a line - I like it! I really do believe in the healing power of writing things down but I do wish I 'd sometimes drawn my lines a little earlier...it'll be different from now on...probably...
You know, I think it also shows that change can sometimes take soooo loooong. I spent a couple of weeks over Dec/Jan this year reading all my journals since my move to Scotland and it's true that I kept circling back over the same concerns. There was movement forward, but it wasn't along a straight path—more like a spiral (which is pretty in retrospect! 🤣). I tried some other strategies too. My favourite is one from Julia Cameron in The Artist's Way. She encourages us to create a "god box" (call it what you will—I called mine a "unicorn box") and in it I placed notes about all the things that concerned me but that I couldn't solve at the time. And I kept moving forward, working on self and service. Sometimes you don't have the tools at hand to solve some problems. Sometimes, like Einstein supposedly said: we can't solve our problems with the same thinking we used to create them. So, noting them and putting them aside helped. Over the years, I kept opening the box and seeing what I had in there but it took a long time to be able to solve them. In fact, they sort of dissipated over time. Lovely chatting with you, Inge! Wishing you more healing writing!
So much to think about here. I love the idea of a god box...if you'd asked me a few months ago, I'd have said it would have to be a pretty big box but now quite a few of the things that seemed insuperable are now either less painful or simply in the past. 'Dissipated over time' is spot on! Life is certainly a journey, isn't it? Healing writing to you too!
🦋🤗🥰 xxx
Hey, dear Claire—glad you are here. 💙🦋✨
Beautiful piece Kathryn. I had not heard of the concept of metanoia until now, but I am certainly on my own "Metanoia Road" following my MS diagnosis just over 5 years ago. Glad to join you on this journey 💛
Dear Jane—thank you! I love how you are also journeying along Metanoia Road! So pleased we are on this road together. See you again soon. 💙
Beautiful piece KK (Anne McCarthy aka KittyDingle)
Dear Anne! Thank you so much for stopping by and for reading this first letter. I'm so glad you did! See you again soon. 💙
beautiful, raw and it spoke to that part of me which had also experienced this. Sending you much love and strength xx
Dear Tracy—thank you for visiting here, for reading this first letter and for your love and strength, which I received with openness and gratitude. Thank you also for letting me know how this spoke to you and how you have experienced this too. This writing we do—it's like a collaborative experience—we are all working to find ways to express our experiences and this in turn opens something for others to recognise their experience. It's magical! See you again soon. 💙👼🏼
Yayy!! Just wonderful!!! I think I live in an upside-down-house too! And thank you all the footnotes and new authors - and new words!
Hey, Em! Thanks for stopping by and reading! I'd love to know more about your upside-down-house sometime. So pleased you found the footnotes, new authors and new words useful! See you again soon. 💙
This is beautiful. The way you describe the physicality of anguish is familiar to me - it is exactly what I felt when I realized that my marriage had collapsed some thirteen years ago now. That hollowness and tightness at once, sometimes alternating! And the illustrations you have chosen - gorgeous - did you make them?
Also, about the illustrations - I 'collaborated' with an AI tool. I like to say I collaborated as I worked hard to write descriptions/prompts, but they definitely were the creative talent in this project! 🤣 Reminds me, I'll have to add captions. Thanks!
Dear Michelle — Thank you for stopping by and pausing to read my first letter. Thank you also for choosing to support my journey with a subscription — it means so much to me — and for all your support in the past! Bear with me as I settle into this new voice and new rhythm here. I'm curious and excited.
Thank you for sharing that the physical experience of anguish is familiar. I've only in the last couple of years begun to explore my bodily sense of self and experience—it's remarkable how much knowledge our body holds. The trick is to find words to express that!
I just peeked at your Substack—wonderful to see some of the photos you have been gathering! What an amazing and important body of work you are creating.
See you again soon 💙
Beautiful, insightful, inspiring. Thank you for these gorgeous and compelling reflections.
Dear Brittany — Thank you for taking time to visit here and to read this first letter. I am pleased to see you found these reflections compelling. See you here again soon. 💙
I’m glad you’re here to write these words for us.
Dear Scott — Thank you for stopping by to join me on this journey. Thank you for choosing to support my journey with a paid subscription—your support of ALL I do has meant so much right from the very first 28 Days of Joyful Death Writing we did together. I'm glad you're hear to read these words. See you soon. 💙
Such a powerful and brave reflection KK. Thank you so much for bringing this to the page and for introducing the term 'metanoia'... it makes so much of my life make better sense!
Dear Helen - how lovely to see you here in the comments! Thank you for stopping by. I'm pleased the term 'metanoia' has made sense. Would love to learn more about that some time in the future. Meanwhile, be well and see you soon.
You’re on a brave journey, Kathryn. Keep going!
Thank you, Emma! We all are! 💙🌻
I have held off on reading this because I knew, without knowing anything of its contents, that I wanted to read it when I had no distractions and could give it all of my attention.
I am so grateful for your tender truths. They are gift, as are you. I am looking forward so very much to future letters and learnings xoxo