KC Baker and I first met when we worked together in Team Northrup starting in 2005. This well spoken, poised, champion for women has been a dear friend of mine for seven years. And today I’m so thrilled to share the work that she’s doing in the world with you guys via Glimpse TV. I’ve seen KC through many iterations of her personal and business life since I’ve known her. What all of her pursuits have had in common is that she’s deeply committed to supporting women in bringing their highest selves into the world AND that she’s a total rock start entrepreneur.

Within the last year KC launched The School For The Well Spoken Woman, a place where women on a mission can come to learn how to rock their message AND delivery.

Because if you’ve got something to say but you don’t know how to say it powerfully and in a compelling way, your mission will be thwarted from the beginning. But if you combine your mission in the world with poise, confidence, grace, presence, and superb communication skills, then people will really be able to hear what you have to say and you’ll make a far greater impact.

I’m sure you’ve heard it before: most people fear public speaking more than they fear death.

So KC certainly has plenty of people to support in moving through their discomfort and fear towards grace and power. As a prep for her upcoming events, Speak Up For Your Business (an 8-week speech writing course that I’m thrilled to be part of the faculty for) and The School For The Well Spoken Woman LIVE, KC is rolling out a free video training series covering the following juicy topics and more:

• the secret that all charismatic public speakers use to captivate their audiences
• the single most important perspective shift to turn your fear of public speaking into grace
• the one question to ask yourself that will make writing your next talk EASY and have it turn out EPIC

Sign up by clicking here to receive KC’s free Secrets to Confident, Graceful Public Speaking video training course. You’ll also have a chance to apply for her upcoming programs. Speak Up For Your Business begins May 12th and The School For The Well Spoken Woman LIVE is happening in San Francisco and NYC (you pick your location) in July.

KC is doing such critical work in the world. I’m overjoyed that The School For The Well Spoken Woman exists because helping women clarify and turn up the volume on their voices couldn’t be a more compelling mission. I’ll never forget doing Team Northrup presentations with KC back in 2005 and being struck by how much grace, elegance, presence, and power she had as a public speaker back then. So let me tell you, this woman knows her stuff!

Back in February KC flew across the country to snowy Wainscott, NY to snuggle up with Mike and me for a week because she got a download in her meditation one day that this would be the perfect thing to do. We cooked, we talked, we walked on the beach, we all wrote around the fire, and of course, we filmed Glimpse TV

Watch our episode below to find out:

• KC’s perspective on what is going to move us forward as a species
• how to stop what KC calls “innocent narcissism” from preventing you from speaking succes
• and how to use your breasts to enhance your impact as a speaker and a change-maker (I’m serious and it’s not what you think!)

If you want to crank up the volume on your voice and your message in the world, this is an extraordinary time to be alive. ~@KCBaker w/ @KateNorthrup on #glimpsetv (CLICK HERE TO TWEET THIS TWEETABLE)

Watch KC’s TEDx talk that I mentioned in the Glimpse TV episode below:

Sign up for KC’s free Secrets to Confident, Graceful Public Speaking video training course by clicking here.

I’m so thrilled to be a part of Speak Up For Your Business and to be joining KC, Barbara Stanny, my mom, Dr. Christiane Northrup as a guest speaker. This 8-week course is also included when you enroll in The School For The Well Spoken Woman LIVE so check that out by clicking here.

 What message do you want to get out into the world? What are you on a mission to say? What freaks you out the most about speaking in public? Leave a comment here!

Last week I launched my Mentoring Program. I’ve been sitting on this idea for six months. For whatever reason (fear, time, other projects, lack of clarity, karma) I just couldn’t get myself to launch it. Until last week.

I’ve been playing with you and creating in this online space for almost two years. Yet, I realized I had never directly invited this amazing community to work with me in any tangible way. So, I decided it was about time to finally sell something of mine here. People had been asking. It was time to deliver.

But throughout the entire process (and ongoing, as it’s not over yet) I felt like I was exposing myself. In a good way, of course, not like a creepy guy on the corner flashing people in a trench coat. Exposing myself in that way that makes you feel exhilarated and afraid one second to the next. It turns out that it’s scary to put yourself out there and say, “Hey! Here’s some truth and wisdom that I have to offer. Here’s an opportunity to hang with me more. Here’s a way we can work together. Here’s what I’ll give you. Here’s what it will take on your end.” The whole process churned my insides, showed me some ways I could love and trust more, and also thrilled me.

It took some notes on stickies throughout the launch because I had a feeling I’d want to share what I learned with you. So here’s some food for thought the next time you expose yourself whether in the form of published words, an online launch, a performance, a heart-felt truth-filled heart-to-heart, or in your journal by yourself in the wee hours of the night.

It doesn’t matter how, when, or where you expose yourself, or to whom. But it does matter that you do it from time to time or more often. Because the world desires what you’ve got. It requires all of you and that requires exposure.

• Don’t wait until you’re ready. You’ll never be ready. You might as well tell them who you are now. No use waiting as the right time will never come. Much like having children, there’s no convenient time to show yourself.

• Give yourself a deadline by announcing that something will be delivered to someone on a certain date at a certain time. I sent a note out to those who’d opted in to hear about the Mentoring Program to let them know they’d get details on Tuesday morning at 10am EST. Then I got my butt in gear to get those details ready to deliver. By not letting them down I didn’t let myself down.

• Create the circumstances for you to shine. My coach, the divine Chela Davison, helped me realize that the optimal conditions for me to create great work include not having very much time to produce it. I have a boat load of examples from my life where I’ve produced my best work in an hour or two right before it was due. No more getting out the flail and beating yourself up for your creative style. Own your creative process and celebrate it. If you need three days of cleaning your sock drawer, surfing Facebook, reading magazines, and staring into space in order to sit at your computer and channel brilliance for 45 minutes, set yourself up for success and make it happen.

• Once you press send or ship your art, let go. Turn off your phone and computer. Go to the beach and say a prayer to the ocean. Kiss your man. Take a nap. Give yourself the space and time to celebrate creation without having the results yet. Know that the act of creation and exposing your art has value in and of itself. Reviews, opt-ins, purchases, applications, tweets, and emails will come in eventually. But let yourself marinate in the work itself, uninfluenced by results.

• When you encounter the inevitable tech glitch, botched design, screw up at the manufacturing facility, or PR mishap, first take a deep breath. Get a snack. Drink a glass of water. You’ll make far better choices when well oxygenated, hydrated, and fed. After you’ve done those things, then respond. Let people know that you’re aware of the error and that you and your team are working to fix it. Be yourself. Be humble. Don’t over apologize. One sorry is enough and even one may not be necessary. It turns out the world has more space for you to be imperfect than you give them credit for. Take the space set aside for your humanness.

• Ask for help and then actually take it when it’s given. My man Mike filmed my sales videos, edited them, created my sales and squeeze pages, and even found custom “Apply Now” buttons in my chosen color scheme for my launch. He also listened to me as I talked through what I wanted to do for the entire launch. He offered advice, enthusiasm, and a “can do” attitude. Receiving that level of support and help required an expansion in my capacity to take in love. Sometimes the act of exposing ourselves is not a one-woman show. We often need helpers. And these helpers need to be fully received and appreciated. It’s a simple law of the universe, like what goes up must come down: that which is given must be fully received or else it can’t be fully given.

• How you do it is what you get. Make the process fun. A book written through angst and turmoil will probably make readers feel kind of crummy even if it’s really amazing work. When something is birthed through fun and pleasure it’s entire passage is lubricated with smiles, sparkles, and ease. Our culture is obsessed with the idea that suffering buys us something, but why not try on the idea that creation that’s easy is just as valuable to the world, if not more so? Plus, given that your life is now and it’s all about the journey, why not enjoy the process since you’re using precious moments of your life to do it anyway? Let your results be a reflection of the creative process. Exposing yourself doesn’t have to be painful. Pretend like you’re a two year old running naked on the beach. Let it be fun. Let it be joyful. Let it be easy.

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.

My friend Bindu Wiles, creator of the famed 21.5.800 project, writer, coach, Buddhist, and friend extraordinaire, has launched her second online community project, The Shed Project. It’s about letting go of what no longer serves us, be it extra weight, too many clothes, books we don’t need anymore, Negative Nancy’s in our lives, or even emotional baggage. I’m so looking forward to losing it for the next eight weeks, starting today.

I was honored to interview Bindu for today’s launch of the “Shedventure”. I launched Glimpse TV with an interview with Bindu so it all feels very perfect and full circle to be kicking off the letting go together. Today, Bindu wrote that she is, “… letting go of the desire/need to present myself polished, edited, and with diffused lighting.” And thus, she chose to post an uncut version.

Glimpse TV: Episode 1, Bindu Wiles from Kate Moller on Vimeo.

I’m 100% IN for The Shed Project. In no particular order, here are some things that I’ll be letting go of: my desire to appear perfect, financial vagueness and irresponsibility, possibly my home in New York City (more on this in a later post), books that I have not read yet and have no intention of reading, my tendency to prioritize others’ needs before my own, the stacks of paper that are piled in my office, some physical weight, clothes that I haven’t worn in a year or more, my duvet cover and shams, old, rotting resentments, conscious and unconscious agreements I made with my parents that are now outmoded, email newsletter subscriptions that I never read, beliefs about myself and the world that no longer serve me, and extra toiletries, specifically hair products, that I don’t use weekly at a minimum.

Come join Bindu and me for eight weeks of losing it on this shedventure. C’mon. Letting go will be more fun together. I promise. You can thank me later. REGISTER HERE TO LET GO (it’s less than $5/week!) (I’m not an affiliate of The Shed Project…just an incredible believer in the power of letting go.)

What are you ready to let go of?

What are you afraid of letting go of?

What does letting go even mean to you?

Have you ever let go of something and had it replaced by something that surprised you or was better than the thing you let go of? Tell me the story.

I booked a month at the beach this August with the intention of writing, relaxing, cooking, doing yoga, getting a great tan, and spending quality time with other people I love who value space, green, slowing down, turning in, and chilling out. I am an ardent believer in the power of intention, but this belief is trumped by my deep knowing that, in the words of the great Mr. Jagger and Mr. Richards, “You can’t always get what you want. But if you try sometimes you just might find . . . You get what you need.”

Apparently, this summer what I needed—what my soul was longing for way more than a month of relaxation and introspection—was a lesson in taking a stand and telling the truth. (Necessary digression: It turns out when you name your blog “AuthentiKate,” the universe conspires to give you all sorts of lovely lessons and opportunities to not just walk the walk, but to strut the strut with a full-on swagger when it comes to telling it like it is. And at times, like during the month of August on my “vacation,” I sometimes wished I had named my blog “Fakin’ Kate” or something equally ripe with opportunities to sugarcoat the truth or wield smoke and mirrors. Sometimes the truth just sucks. It’s certainly not the easy path. Nope. It’s the mossy one that’s overgrown with vines, the one that’s poorly lit, muddy, and echoing with the screeches and moans of unidentified animals. It’s the scarier one. But it’s apparently the one that I’ve chosen.)

As much as I want to go into gory details of the many situations that transpired this month that squeezed me so hard I felt I had the choice to either tell the truth and take a stand for myself or suffocate, I will abstain for the following reasons: 1. I fear that illustrating the stories outright will add to my emotional charge around them. 2. I’d prefer to use vagueness to protect the anonymity of those involved. 3. As much as I talk about how the more specific we can be, the more universal and relatable our truth becomes, this is a time when I don’t think the details really matter.

Instead of composing what had the distinct possibility of becoming an overly emotional and somewhat unprocessed written diarrhea of the summer’s challenges, I’m going to try a different route and just stick with the lessons. Here are my Seven Truths About the Truth:

1.     The time is now. There is no right time or place for the truth. The perfect time for telling it like it is always lies in the present moment, reporting live from how you feel right now. Telling the truth in real time, rather than 24 or 48 hours later when you’ve had time to stew, marinate, and create a slow-cooked, falling-off-the-bones, tender roast of your version of the truth, simply makes more sense. Emotions, reality, perspectives, and sensations are so transient that, in a way, the only time the truth is relevant is right now. Just as the longer you go without taking out the garbage, the more it stinks, the longer you wait to tell the truth, the harder it becomes and the more rank it becomes from an energetic, emotional-charge perspective. Tell it now while it’s only vaguely odorous.

2.     The truth stands alone. The point of telling the truth is not to change someone’s behavior or get a desired outcome. The value of telling the truth is in owning your power, owning your perspective, and validating your experience through words. Taking a stand for oneself by telling the truth is worth it as an act of self-love and saying, “Hey! I’m here. I matter,” even if you’re the only person who hears it. The truth is not about changing someone else; it’s about honoring yourself. Just because someone doesn’t receive your truth with an open heart and an open mind doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth telling and doesn’t invalidate it. The value in your truth doesn’t come from how it lands (though there are certainly ways of telling it in more friendly ways than others). The value in your truth comes simply from telling it.

3.     The truth changes lives. The truth brings people closer together and is life-altering. As a cowboy who was helping me train a horse in Arizona once said, “The biggest gift you can ever give another living being is your truth.” Clarity and honesty works with horses and it sure as hell works with people. Last week I sat across a blanket on the beach from someone I love and told her some things that were not easy to say and were not easy for her to hear. And both of our willingness to get incredibly uncomfortable in that moment by cracking open our hearts to let the truth out and let it in bonded us in a way that would have been impossible had I not been willing to lay it down.

4.     The truth is never too late. This may seem totally in conflict with number one, but the second thing I learned about telling the truth is that it’s never too late. Based on Truth About the Truth #3, the truth—your truth—is life-changing. It’s never too late to take out smelly garbage. It’s never too late to lay it down straight.

5.     Take a stand for someone else’s truth. Sometimes you must be willing to stand for someone else’s truth when they’re not able to see it or hear it for themselves. I heard my aunt Penny tell a story about climbing to Mt. Everest Base Camp at 17,600 feet with my grandmother, Edna, this past May (my granny is the oldest woman to ever successfully make that trek). Penny talked about a moment on the trek when my grandmother was really sick and wasn’t sure she could go on and all of her doubt began to come up in that insidious way that it tends to do when we’re challenged. Penny talked about standing for her mother (my grandmother) and for the truth that she was unable to see for herself in that moment: that she could make the trek if, and only if, she was willing to receive the help that was available to her. Because of Penny’s firm resolve and deep belief in Granny, she was able to accept help and made it to Mt. Everest Base Camp.

6.     The truth gets fuzzy around the word “versus.” The truth is clouded by blame, competitiveness, reactivity, separation, and polarization. When we see things as right vs. wrong, you vs. me, black vs. white, and us vs. them, everything gets muddled and we can no longer see straight. I had an incredibly upsetting experience this week in which I was harshly blamed for something that someone had decided I had done based on inadequate evidence and intense reactivity. In my state of hurt, shock, and self-protection, I began to see her as perpetrator and me as victim, while I simultaneously began to beat myself up for what was, in essence, a miscommunication that we were both responsible for. When my dear friend helped me see how I was polarizing myself from this woman, the truth suddenly crystallized and I was able to see the situation for what it was: a simple case of mismanaged expectations and miscommunications. No blame. No right or wrong. Just a conversation that should have happened and never did. The relief that came from seeing the situation through the loving eyes of connection and collaboration was soul-nourishing.

7.     The truth wins every time. Whether you’re writing, speaking in public, acting, or simply talking with someone one on one, the truth is the most intoxicatingly compelling material you have. No matter how genius your shtick is or how brilliant your comic timing, the truth will always be more captivating than anything pre-planned or packaged. Two weeks ago I spoke in front of 3,000 people at the USANA International Convention about social media and writing a blog and, besides a few bullet points, I didn’t plan a thing. Instead, I held the microphone, felt my feet grounded on the stage, and told the truth. I talked about my identity crisis last fall and how I had to start writing a blog in order to carve out a space where I could be me, undefined by Team Northrup or being my mother’s daughter, and people loved it. I got an overwhelmingly positive response from people in the audience. They were inspired and moved to take action and tell the truth in their own ways. And it felt great to know that rather than a well-polished speech, I had delivered content that was fresh, vibrant, and real that was emotionally moving and motivating. (Plus I got asked for my autograph for the first time, which was really trippy and totally fun – see picture to the left…that’s me in the white dress.)

The truth captivates us. We can’t take our eyes away from it. My friend Josh Pais, founder and teacher of Committed Impulse, points out that kids and animals will always upstage actors because they can’t help but tell the truth and we can’t help but be fascinated by it. Next time you’re speaking or writing, channel that dog or child, strip away the layers, and let the truth win.

I’m sure there are more than seven truths about the truth, but these are mine for now. Perhaps one day I will develop this into some sort of truth manifesto or something. But for now I’m still practicing with the truth . . . telling a little bit more each and every day. Learning how to do it with grace, love, and wisdom. Learning how to tell it in a way that changes lives . . . mine most of all.

How did you learn to tell the truth?

What are some truths about truth that you’ve discovered?

Do you have a story about telling the truth you’d be willing to share?

What’s true for you right in this very moment?

I was inspired to write about female financial power this morning after reading a post from Lora Sasiela of Financially Smitten on negotiation and how our ability to ask for what we’re worth gives us a much better return on investment than minding our portfolios or becoming a stock wizard (though these things are important too.)  The article mentions certified financial planner and author of Women’s Worth: Finding Your Financial Confidence, Eleanor Blayney, who notes that women still earn only 77 cents on every dollar that men earn. She asserts that the difference may largely be due to the fact that men are much more comfortable asking for what they’re worth than women.

As I was reading the article a memory popped into my head of the first time I ever asked for more:

I was fourteen years old. It was a beautiful Maine summer. I had spent the entire day babysitting for three kids under the age of seven. I was exhausted after about ten hours of running around, feeding them every thirty seconds, cleaning up, and all the other fun stuff involved in taking care of kids. The father of the family drove me home at the end of the night and handed me twenty dollars. My heart sank. I smiled as I held back infuriated tears and got out of the car.

As soon as I walked in the front door I lost it. I was pissed. He had paid me two dollars an hour. How dare he take advantage of me because of my age and gender? What nerve he had to pay me a pittance for working my ass off running after his bratty kids all day!  After ranting about for a while, my mom suggested that I call him and tell him what I’m worth. What??!! I thought she was insane. In that moment it felt like it would be easier, and far more pleasurable, to stick a hot poker in my eye than to call a grown businessman at least thirty years my senior and tell him that he had majorly low-balled it and that he owed me money.

But below my fear there was another voice that told me this was a moment of critical importance. This was an opportunity to own my power and speak up for myself. This was a moment to ask for what I’m worth. (In actuality I don’t think those particular thoughts consciously crossed my mind. Really I was mostly just pissed off and wanted extra money for clothes or movies or whatever I was investing my precious pennies in at the time. But looking back thirteen years later, I know that voice was whispering to me on some level, urging me to value myself.)

I still wasn’t ready to make the call in that moment, though. I was scared shitless, to be honest. Plus, I was too angry to be adult and professional. So, I called a woman in the community who I also babysat for and who I trusted. I asked her what she thought I should do and she agreed with my mom (darn those mature, empowered women for being right). She told me that she felt he had grossly underestimated my worth and that I should tell him so directly (and sweetly, of course.)

So the next morning I mustered up the courage to make the call. I was nauseous. I was sweating. I was shaking. The phone weighed eight bazillion pounds. But my anger and desire to take a stand for myself made me dial the number. I told him, quite kindly and matter-of-factly, that my going rate for babysitting was actually quite a bit higher than two dollars an hour and that I would appreciate it if he would make up the difference. I apologized for not having told him my rate ahead of time, then told him that we would need to straighten out the situation. I thanked him for his time and hung up the phone.

He was stunned. I was stunned. I never babysat for that family again, which was more than okay. He ended up dropping off more money. I ended up feeling intoxicatingly empowered. My mom and my neighbor who I had called for support were really proud of me. I was really proud of me.

Since that time I’ve negotiated my worth on countless occasions. I’ve asked for higher pay and gotten it time after time. I’ve realized that generally speaking, unless you ask for it, you’re not going to get it. No one will value you unless you value yourself and are willing to take a stand verbally, in writing, or in some other tangible way. I’ve also learned that asking for what I’m worth is scary every single time. And yet, the fear that I feel when I ask for more money or anything else, is not enough to stop me from doing it because the feeling of genuine, profound power on the other side of that fear is worth it every time. Yeah, the extra money in my bank account is nice too, but it pales in comparison to the deep sense of personal worth that grows each and every time I negotiate on my own behalf.

***Tomorrow is my final Women & Wealth Seminar of the summer and possibly of 2010. Join the conversation about feminine financial power live in NYC Thursday, July 29^th, 7:00 – 8:30pm at the Giving Nature Center, 155 W 19^th St. Discover where your money blocks are, learn strategies for clearing any unconscious beliefs that are holding you back from creating wealth, and identify new ways to create wealth in your life. REGISTER HERE TO SAVE $5.***

When was a time you asked for what you were worth and how did it make you feel?

Have you ever gotten stiffed and not said anything about it?

How do you feel about negotiating in general?

What does feminine financial power mean to you?