journal 06. 12 weeks + 6 days pregnant & totally lost

These days - amongst the whirlwind of enormous change - I find myself living a life less than 24 hours at a time, I find myself living hour-to-hour, and sometimes (often times) second-to-second.

My brain is busy; my programming screams perfection; I am clinging to what was as I fall deeply to the prey of fear.

Fear of yesterday.

Fear of now.

Fear of tomorrow.

Fear of people, places, and infinite numbers of what-ifs.

What if I am losing my sanity? What if it never returns? What if I never eat another vegetable again, what if I live forever on salt + vinegar chips? What will become of me? Will the sickness ever pass? Will I feel motivated to coach, and create, and build a business again? Will I find my calling? What am I doing? Will San Diego fall into the sea? Am I destined to becom prey to another tragic ending - another story of a woman turned mermaid in the fall of Atlantis?

Some days I feel like I am drowning. Perfectionism runs my brain - it tells me to go, to plan, to accomplish; but the alien in my belly is forcing me to rest, to stare into space, to put all energies into not barfing I feel like I am falling apart, like I am failing, like I have become a professional Netflix watcher - which happens to be the last career I ever wanted.

The inner war; the headache; the constant fucking dialogue in my brain ... talking, and talking, and talking.





The self-care; it's not what it used to be - I am not who I was - it's all new, it's shedding, growing, burning, birthing, incubating.

I have completely lost control, and it feels exactly like it did in early sobriety - the very same. I have no fucking clue up from down; I am lost, I am freaked out, I don't know how to do this.

I have no idea what I am doing, or where I am going - and that's the truth.

But what I do know - the part that is different for me than in early sobriety - is this: today I have a god I do business with; today I know that it's ok to be filled to the brim with uncertainty; today I can sit through this discomfort and I can continue to do the right next indicated step. Today I do what I did in early sobriety - I hit my knees to the floor - every day - and I hand my will over.

I know that this is bigger than me, I know that I can not do this alone, but I do know that I have a program for living that works. I do know that the very same steps that got me sober and kept me sober, will be the same steps that will guide me through this wild and wacky time of life.

And the clouds will part,

and it will feel good again.

And until then - there is nothing wrong with feeling what I feel today, as long as I keep doing the work and taking the next best step.

only love, -k

journal 05. disoriented

30 days in a row I have woken up in sunny San Diego to a new life, a new chapter, and a new + unfamiliar adventure. 678 days in a row I have woken up sober, hangover-free, and in pure awe at how deeply this process has not only changed every single aspect of my outer life but also recalibrated me on the most basic cellular level. Nothing is the same, and it just keeps shifting for me. My foundation cracked, exploded, lit ablaze…. it’s gone, that old foundation is so far gone that there lays zero trace that it even once existed. The outside continues to shift, the insides continue to change, and I am quite honestly dizzy, disoriented, and a wee bit panicked. Today is the 1st day in the past 30 days that I have cried tears that sprouted deep within my soul; I feel vulnerable, a little scared, a lot grateful, and totally out of control. My tears today are the ones that only faith in something deeper could comfort, today's tears feel enormous, the vulnerability I feel is piercing.

Life is good right now, I am here for beautiful reasons, and I know to the very depth of my soul that this is right for me. It's exciting. And it's painful, and sometimes it takes all I can muster to suit up and show up, sometimes I want to resort to hiding. Sometimes it all feels so big, and so daunting. I can see things dying - old relationships, belief systems, perspectives; and I can see things sprouting - new relationships, belief systems, perspectives. And I have no control over either the death or the birth, I am just here witnessing it, trying not to be so attached to it, and attempting to hand control over and surrender. It’s been 678 days of the veil, after veil, after veil, after veil being lifted from my life, my soul, my very existence and I do not know where my footing is, but do we ever truly know that? I mean I know where I am right now ion this moment - I am here, and vulnerable, and grateful, and dizzy. I am dizzy, I can feel my footing, I can see the dizzying colours of life, I can feel where I am; maybe that's all we need to know? Maybe right here and right now is all we ever get, perhaps the rest if just illusion? Well, I have no illusion right now, I just have the right-here-and-right-now. And that’s ok, it’s not a bad thing at all, it’s actually so good, it's just the dizzying nature of change.

The past 2 years have been nothing short of unbelievable, I mean that’s the only real words I can think of - I can barely believe what has transpired, what has changed, who I have begun to become. My whole life is different. My friends are different, my relationship to God is new, my reactions are different, my way of life + activities are different. It’s all so different, and I have not caught up - I still do not know who I am, or what I am supposed to be doing, and that freaks me out and makes me panic, and a panicked me wants to assert control, and manipulate things into a fine self-righteous order, so that I can gain my illusion of control back, and feel better.

Cuz I’m scared. And faith-filled.

Scared + faith, that makes no sense.

But that feels right, it feels true, I feel both. Faith one moment, fear the next. Surrender one breath, panic the next. I feel like more than one person, with more than one voice.

It's so disorienting.

My mind is not all there, so it seems.

From day one this sober journey has been a brilliant, beautiful, painful, awe-inspiring mind-fuck; from day one it’s changed my whole-entire-everything; I do not feel like the old me anymore, nothing fits, and yet I’m not too clear on the ‘new me’ either. I feel like I am in the hallway of identity hell - not who I was, not yet who I am too be - just here, sort of naked, totally exposed, kinda outta body, a little shell-shocked, alot in-awe, and just trying to remember to breathe. I feel like I am no longer the character of Kori, and yet I have not been assigned a new character to play; I'm not fighting it, it just feels very weird.

I know what my work is right now, I know my job is to keep things super simple, I know that 'being' is my medicine and 'doing' (at least for now) is an escape. I know I need the medicine, and I must avoid the escape - less list crafting, more prayer; less planning, more taking in the simple beauty + adventure of a new city. I know self-compassion is needed as I trudge through this beautiful landscape, and I am totally aware that as long as I continue to surrender, and pray, and ‘do my work’ (on life’s terms), life will continue to guide me - one step at a time.

I know these things. My intellect has an A+ in these things,

but I must act these things out, do these things, physically continue to fall to my knees as many times through the day as it takes to remain an open canvas.

So that’s where I’m at, in a place of bright, sparkling beauty, a place where the clouds have parted and the joys of life have begun to sprout, and yet... I’m not used to this and I do not know quite yet how to ‘be here’, and that’s ok. I don't need to know, the big picture and the deeper 'how-to's' are none of my business, all I need to know is the next best thing, and right now that looks like typing out some very confusing pieces from my overactive mind as I cry tears of total clarity from my heart.

Only Love, - k

journal 04. instagram detox

111 days into my life-altering journey of getting sober my life took a turn I would have never in a million years predicted. It imploded, it lit ablaze, and it burnt to the ground with such fierce force there was not a damn thing I could do. It was a landslide, and I was unable to stop it - it was too big, much too big for my will to enter in and change the course. I look back now at those days, the days I thought were my demise, the days I thought were the end, and I can see so clearly now that what broke me, actually birthed me. That pain has been my single greatest teacher. I remember clearly when the fire lit, falling to my knees with a deep and precise understanding that ‘holy fuck, I do not know what I am doing with my life’, and it was in that pain that life schooled me on the lessons of handing my will over, on surrender, on prayer. The gift of the enormity of that pain was that I was only capable of living life breath to breath, I was in such panic and such despair that I could not plan ahead, I could not control, I could not dream - I truly had to keep my head down and stay diligent - at all cost - at staying sober, staying alive, and making it through my day.

Those days, in that pain, I was handed something beautiful - I was handed the gift of space; divine intervention stopped the hands of the clock of my life and time turned to molasses, as I slowly but surely made it through each passing day. The other thing, the other amazing, and beautiful thing that occurred in those days when time was thick, and pain was all consuming, was the connection that I made to my Higher Power; this is an experience I do not think I will ever be able to put into words. Suddenly it was just me, on my knees + in deep grief, and a force that filled my body, touched me to my core, a force that felt … mysterious. I leaned on this force, I listened in, I did whatever I could to be near it. I followed it when it told me to go to water, I fell on my knees numerous times in the day to hear its words, to feel its guidance. In the molasses-slow time, and the heart-wrenching ache of my soul, I found God.

And now here I am, in sunny San Diego, in a life, I never knew possible with a man I never could have, in a billion-trillion-quadrillion-years, dreamed up. Here I am, plucked out of everything I knew, away from all things comfortable, learning to dance in a light so bright that I seem to only be able to take snippets at a time. I am here, and it is new, and I promised myself that amongst all of this good, alongside all of the change, I would slow down. I promised myself. I promised myself that my focus would be simple: my recovery, my practice of connecting with the God I found on those fateful, tear-filled days just mere moon cycles ago.

But it’s life and it’s hard, and slowing down is just so...slow. It’s uncomfortable and sometimes I do it so well; other times I find myself daydreaming, making lists, engaging in mindless internet scrolling, comparing my life to the ideas I have about another’s and beginning to feel an unjustified amount of fear, of lack, of ‘what the fuck am I doing’. All this quick thinking, all the distractions I find myself struggling to stay calm at the foot of grace, at the base of faith - I find myself beginning to struggle with life, taking the control back, and exerting the agenda I have secretly stored away in the attic of my heart that is marked, “still don’t trust this life”.

Today I know too much to play it dumb, I can feel the wrestle begin, and I can feel myself on the past track to loosing the battle. Life is going to win, it does every time. It's easier to let go, it's easier to surrender.

I write because it’s healing for me. I pray because it helps me build the faith to take the next step without needing to know the why, the how, the destination. My message is shifting, my human self is changing, what life want’s from me is unclear - do I blog more, write more, do I coach more, organize the house, decorate, hit up a yoga class, run a marathon, build an elixir bar, pray deeper, or harder, or what? Maybe I should cook more, or walk the dogs more, or longer, or in more creative patterns and ways. Should I learn a new thing? I can't. It's just too much.

I know the answer does not lie in adding ‘more’, being ‘more’, or ‘better’, or faster’. The answer (to the problem that only exists in my mind) resides in being where I am, accepting what is, sitting in the change, the joy, the mystery, the discomfort.

And so…

I’m signing off of Instagram for a month, or two, or maybe three.

I’m signing off because I need a break. I need a break from the mindless, I need a break from the busy, from the full, from the never-ending world of comparing. I need to be here, on my own blog, and write for the reasons I love to write - it’s healing for me, and less for why I seem to be writing on that platform - for likes, for the hustle, for the approval. Will I ever stop hustlin’ for approval? I don't know, but at least I can feel myself doing, and I don’t like it. Here, on my blog, I don’t know who reads this, I can't see who likes it, and to be honest - I don't care. I just want to write. I want to pray, and I want to have a close connection to life, to the moments that pass, to the God that I believed saved my soul and gave me a second chance.

So I will be here, I will be writing about this strange and beautiful adjustment to San Diego. I will be focusing on self, on slowing down, on minding the simple pieces of beauty in the seemingly mundane.

Here was my sign off from IG:

I love this platform, I love the way we have the instant power to connect, inspire, be inspired. But there are always 2 sides to a coin, and like anything, there is a shadow side to social media. In the pursuit of connection, I find myself disconnecting; in the name of using my words as a healing tool for self, I find myself mindlessly scrolling, comparing, counting likes + measuring my worth; I’m hustling to find the right words so that you will notice me, I will feel success. It’s not healing for me when I lose my voice, when I lose me, in the name of being what I think you want. When I get the likes I feel good, and when I don’t hit the mark - 200 feels good for me these days - I feel like my very words have failed, my soul wasn’t right enough, wasn’t good enough. This is unhealthy. I need a break. So much is shifting in my life and I’m frightened to step back, I’m scared to pull my hands away and take a deep breath. What if I lose my momentum? What if no one remembers that I am a writer, a coach? What if they forget who I am. This is not healthy. I need room to breathe, I need to risk losing it in order to reconnect with self. I’m taking 30-90 days away; I’ll start with 30 and see. I’ll be on my blog because the truth is that I absolutely need to write, but on my blog, I can’t see who reads it, who likes it, who follows it; on my blog I write for the reasons I need to write, it is my medicine. It’s not for likes or for the hustle, it’s for me.

Sometimes we just need a break, and I know for me, a frightening little break from this will do my soul some serious good.

Only Love,

-k xo

journal 03. sand in my purse

Maybe it’s meant to be this way?

Perhaps all the pieces that are in the process of death, or that have recently withered were meant too?

It’s such a totally weird place to be, this spot I stand right now. Looking down I can see my feet standing on top of ash + rich soil from the life I lived previously that burnt down and gave way to this new, meaningful, beautiful potential that has begun to emerge. Little buds of greenery, life, hope - it’s all here, right beneath my feet. But also, parts of the garden still seem to be struggling, trying to catch a breath, dying. I’m unsure if the parts that wither are because I didn't water them enough, I didn't care enough, I didn't put my whole heart into its nourishment, or perhaps these pieces are simply shifting; because that’s life, pieces shift, we outgrow things, and places, and people, and beliefs. I don’t know if I fucked it up, or if I’m simply struggling to let go, to allow death to take place. Maybe I am so busy trying to grow + save an evergreen tree on the beach, instead of resting at the base of the thriving palm tree that is meant to exist on the beach? Maybe I am frantically trying to save the old, when the new is screaming at me, “I am here, and I am good, and you are supposed to be here. It is safe to rest on the palm tree. Stop trying to save the evergreen, it’s supposed to be in the cold mountains… let it die, Kori.”

Let go.

This is a new life. Sobriety gave me a new chance, a second chance, but fuck, wow, omg, it’s so big, and weird, and different.

It’s so pretty.

It’s so strange.

On many levels I am beginning to see how much of an outsider I really feel. I don’t know if it’s the wiring in my brain that tells me that I am different; unique; special, or if it’s an upbringing, or a thing that happened to me, or the disease of alcoholism - but my brain tells me, in the most subtle of ways that I am un-understandable, that I am meant to be alone. Perhaps right now it has become more obvious simply because I am in a new city, and literally more alone than I was in the familiarity of my day-to-day routine in the city I was born and raised in, the place I know so well. I’m not lonely and (thankfully) I no longer suffer from the painful and debilitating sensation of 'aloneness' the way I used too; it no longer takes my breath away or haunts me every second of every day and night. I have found relief from that, and yet, I still feel sort of alone. I can see that in the 22 months I have had in sobriety, I have mostly sat on the sidelines, I have not immersed myself in the community, or made friends; I did what I usually do, I buckled down and relied on fierce independence to “get the job done”. Laziness is not one of my character defects, I am highly self-motivated and sometimes it really stabs me in the back because I forget to let the people in, I forget to ask for help.

I can lead; I can coach; I can be the boss, I’m good at that. But, I'm not so sure I know how to be an 'equal', I'm not so sure I am strong in letting others in to see me in my vulnerability.

I can help; I can hold space; I can be the human who is the pillar when others need it; but I seem to really struggle (especially with women, ironically) to be anything but the "advise giver".

I don't know why, but it's become naggingly clear.

I’m not sure if the shifts and changes in my life are simply because life has started a new chapter for me - a new city, new life, new love, new community - maybe it’s supposed to really be fresh, maybe all that was a part of my life pre-sobriety was meant to fall away? Maybe not. Am I trying to grow evergreens on the beach? Am I letting go? Or, am I shutting down and closing people out - that has always been my defence. I don’t know. I really don't. How much is surrender and allowing life to unfold, and how much is heartache, protection, pain? Can I be ok with palm trees, can I give this to God, can I surrender into what is?

I don't know right now.

I’m trying.

The evergreens are dying, that I can see clearly. And the palm trees are thriving, that I can also see so clearly; clarity, no doubt, it’s not confusing when i think of it like that. God will: palm trees, or they wouldn’t be here.

What I do know is that there is not a whole lot in my control, and no matter how bad I try to cling on, no matter how much I hope the water will give it new life… it’s not. Evergreens simply do not grown on the beach. Period. It’s really not in my control, and as a control freak I sometimes struggle to give up on my agenda, I sometimes struggle to allow life to take over.

You know, it’s so odd, because amongst these enormous changes that have taken place over these past 22 months, and no matter how uncomfortable pieces still remain, I am totally blown away at the path that has emerged. I am humbled at the sprouts that are growing, the peace I am finding, the love I am experiencing. My edges are softening. I am amazed at the pieces that I once thought were d.e.a.d seem to be sprouting back to life with a vigorous force; I guess even when things appear to end, sometimes they are actually in need of space. San Diego is the perfect metaphor for my life at the moment - it’s sunny, warm, light. It’s bright here. The sky is blue. But where the fuck is the snow? I don't want the snow, but I don't know how to be in this sort of heat in October - it's good, it really is, but its new, and different, and oddly uncomfortable - in the best way possible. I am so exposed here, the good is so good; each day I have to pinch myself, ‘yes, this is your life Kori, and no, the snow is not coming'. I have my winter coat here... just in case, but there isn’t a need - the 'just in case' plan is not what my higher power intended, the sun is here to stay.

I can't seem to fully believe it, or relax into it.

I don’t know palm trees so well, I’m sorta scared to touch them, to let them in, to lean on them.

Things die.

Change occurs.

Some places have sun all year long.

Sobriety isn't boring.

I am lovable.

Palm trees are flexible, and strong, and beautiful.

Life has given me what I need, and all that has to be done is the next best step.

Nothing is meant to last forever, all the things morph into the new, it’s changing - all of it, always.

The soil of my life is so rich - and I’m still so deeply confused at where I fit, this process has completely and totally changed me. The fundamental truths of my life have gone through a major facelift, and now the foundation is new. I have sand in my purse (because I was at a 12 step meeting that took place on.the.beach!) I have never had sand in my purse, isn’t that odd? What do you do with sand in your purse? I guess laugh! How lucky to have sand in my purse.

And I'm just trying to get used to the sun, and let go of the layers of winter protection I have brought along with me; it's safe to let go, it’s safe to lean on the palm trees + stop trying to save the evergreens - life will do that shit, just go clean your purse out, Kori.

only love,


journal 02. transition

I am in a huge state of transition - huge.

I can not, on most days, even figure out how to get through my day let alone figure out a 5, 10, 20-year plan. My goals are ultra simple right now, consisting only of the very-next-best-step, and that’s truly it. The idea of 24-hours at a time used to absolutely creep me out, I mean who fucking gets life done at a 24-hour-at-a-time pace? Seemed insane to me. But the more time in sobriety I get, the more solid that way of life becomes for me and in fact, it’s really become my main staple in terms of my self-care.

It’s really crazy where my life is at right now, it’s been such an enormous past 2 years. 651 days ago I got sober and I honestly thought that this journey would be a simple 'quit drinking wine on the weekend' journey - oh my good god, was I ever wrong. There is no way to emphasize enough how much changed; everything.

Nothing is the same.


All of it.

Every piece, all the morsels, every cell, every outlook, belief system, relationship - all different.

Where I am today, what I think, who I am surrounded by, what my life looks like, is not in 10 billion years what I thought it would be, and the craziest thing is that… it’s better than I could have ever imagined it to be. And yet, with it has come a strange and unfamiliar space of growth that I am trying to figure out how to navigate.

Life caught on fire - grief took me in chewed me up and spit me out - and as the fire has subsided, and the ripe nourishing ash has given way for new life to sprout, I have found that I am not in any way the same human as I was before the fire. I am totally different. I grew, and I also outgrew my old life, my old way of being, my old offerings, beliefs, and relationship to the world I live in.

It’s a good thing, like a really good thing, but it’s also totally bizarre.

I’m not sure what I am doing.

I’m not sure where life has me going.

I don’t know what to focus on - especially with my work, I don’t know what courses I want to offer, or what to say in a newsletter. I don’t know how long I will run the telecourse I have worked so hard to build, or perhaps I will end up growing it even more… I just don’t know these things right now. I can’t figure out a 5-year plan; I can’t vision board this, or try to manifest it in my mind's eye; I simply don’t know what life is asking of me - I don’t.

And for me, nothing could be more uncomfortable.

Slowing down is fucking hard for me.

Not knowing the plan is pure torture.

I want the plan, and when I don’t get the thing I want, I usually panic.

But right now I can feel all the way down to my very core, that my job is simple: it’s a day at a time. That’s it. I don't get to know the plan, I don't get to move fast. Life has forced me into a place of surrender. I have to pull back from the world as I centre myself, this is a deep time of transition, and everything I have ever learned about self-care is key in these odd, and beautiful, and confusing days. The big picture is not important for me right now, all that is important is that I focus intently on doing what's best for my soul one breath at a time.

That's it: one breath and then the next; one foot in front of the other; nothing bigger, nothing more complex, just simple, slow, soft.

Faith is my guiding force right now, all that I need to do is breathe and take care of what’s right in front of me - which, for now, looks like slowing the fuck down - ugh ‘slowing down’, my damn nemesis, my greatest teacher. Maybe life is so much more simple than I ever thought it to be, maybe it’s not about becoming something big, maybe it's about learning to lean into the slow spaces, learning to cultivate the simple appreciation for the very moment at hand. Maybe it’s not about being big, and bold, and stubborn on the pursuit of ‘self-made’, and fierce independence. Maybe it’s more about togetherness, humility, and the grace of surrender.

I think today my plan is this: run the harbour, work my 12 steps, water my garden of love.

That’s it.

Only Love,


journal 01. starting over

Today is September 19, 2018, and I am sitting in a living room that is empty, surrounded by candles that are held by brass holders that have witnessed so very much of what has occurred over these past 2 years inside of the walls of this sacred home I have built. The furniture has been moved, and the house is hauntingly similar to the very first nights that I spent here - same candle holders, same fireplace, same record player, same pooches; but a totally different life, with an enormously different path. I have bounced in and out of the healing space of my blog, I have been inconsistent with my shares and entries, and the simple reason is that I have been behind the scenes at times clinging to my own life, other times laying on the floor in desperation and utter heartache, and - over the past year - learning how to dance in the new life I have been given.

I have been tossed into the pit of grief over the past 2 years, I have experienced a loss so shattering to my soul that I had no choice but to fall to my knees in complete and total surrender; nothing has ever hurt me so badly as this loss did. Through the loss, however, a totally unexpected thing happened - the ashes of the forest fire became the fertile ground for newness to grow, the loss, the pain, it became the portal, and through it, I was spit out on the other side changed right down to my cells. My outlook is new, my attitude is different, I care less about the shit I used to stress over, my edges softened, my anger subsided, my heart opened, and my life was redirected. Today I am different, I no longer fit in the places I used to fit, and I don’t know what it is that life is wanting from me. I’m still trying to figure this all out - this new me, this new life - it’s beautiful, and yet it’s changed my heart is such cellular ways that I feel like a totally new human, and with that - I don’t know where the fuck I fit.

Tonight I sit here unsure of what is next, but with a newfound faith so deep that I feel totally confident that it is safe to sit in the authenticity of how I feel, and tonight I feel both gratitude and grief. My heart aches. My throat is pulsating with that old familiar emotional ‘lump’, and my face is wet - stained with infinite tears. Tears for what was, tears for the forest fire, and the lessons, and the sobriety I was gifted. Tears for new love, and old love, tears for the strength it took to get through this last chapter. Tears for god. Tears in awe, and tears in pain, and tears in gratitude. Cleansing tears. Grief tears. Joy tears.

I’m not sure where life is pulling me, I am not sure what it’s calling me to do, but I feel the need to reconnect with my words, and with sharing once again. This is my art. This is my voice. This is my healing modality. So much has changed, even my own blog feels like someones else’s online home - it’s going to take me some time to settle in, find my footing, and figure out what it is that I am saying and doing.

But I’m here, I’m back.

I’m taking a teeny tiny break after this chapter closes to head down the coast to Portland - a road trip is in order. The plan: drive, sing, drink coffee, play on parks, find every single hot spring we can, love the man I was gifted with all of my heart. I intend to write prayers + burn them, I plan to send wishes out to the universe, prayers for other humans, and mostly I intend to fall into the arms of Mother Earth, on the coast I love the most, in pure gratitude - because as horrifying as that last chapter was, as painfully as it hit my heart, I have learned that what truly happened in those days was life handed me a second chance. Life got big and sent her most powerful teacher, grief - and then grief took me, and I listened. And on the days I thought I wouldn’t make one-single-more-moment, I remembered to breathe, I remembered to simply take the next best step. And then one-day griefs waves crashed a little less frequent, and I could breathe a little easier, and now today the sun has come out and I can see with such clarity that the only truth for me to hold is the truth of gratitude and faith.

So as this chapter closes and the next begins, and as my heart aches tonight, and the tears seem endless, I simply want to relish in the miracle that has occurred - I never ever thought the light would be for me, and here I am - happy, sober, and free.

Thank You, Life. THANK YOU.

Only Love,

- k

journal 00. faith without works is dead

I have spent my whole life waiting for the 'grande scroll' to fall from the sky; the one that boldly lets me know my life plan and all of the steps I will need to make in order to create an exuberant life of meaning. My prayers have always been a dialogue asking (or rather, demanding) the creator for what I think I need, asking for my dreams to come true, begging and pleading for circumstances to change or morph in a way that I feel is more fitting for my secret agenda on my life. 

As I wait for the 'grande scroll', the 'holy grail of kori's magical to-do's', I miss the right-here-and-right-now-next-best-step. I wait for the ah-ha, and I miss the fact that my registration is due. I stare at the sky waiting for the heavens to part and the choir to come down, and as I am lost in la-la land, I forget to pay a bill or be unwaveringly faithful to my word. My life gets a little sloppy when I am busy waiting for the magic of tomorrow's and missing the divine communication of the here-and-now.

Each time I miss the 'thing' that is right in front of me, my faith in life cracks deeper, and my trust falters. Why the fuck are the cosmos not answering my prayers, giving me what I think I need? Why do I not receive guidance? How come I can't hear it?

It has become obviously clear to me lately that I am receiving guidance; I am constantly being shown what the next best step is, it's just that I'm busy looking out for a 'more enlightened next best step', that the seemingly 'mundane next-best-step' feels un-godlike, easy to ignore, and impossible to relate to faith. 

The missed 'mundane steps' ( filling the tank with gas, picking up pooch poop, renewing registration, breathing, getting to a 12 step meeting, hanging my clothes up at the end of the day etc.) creates havoc + chaos in my life, and this creates a deep sense of alone-ness. It separates me from my spiritual practice, and it pushes me further away from my version of God, and from self. 

However, when I spend my time totally engaged in what is directly in front of me - the seemingly mundane - my life begins to work a little better; I cease being at war with the 'rules of life', and I find myself living life on life's terms. Honouring the 'mundane' and living life on life's terms is changing everything for me, It seems simple and really .... un-magical, but real miracles are happening for me as I practice living like this. 

Each time I engage in the next-best-step, I cultivate a deeper sense of self-loyalty, I feel proud of myself, I feel more deeply connected to self, which turns into self-worth. Each time I complete the next-best-step, the 'mundane-right-in-front-of-me-next-best-step', life works a little better. (example: I do not get pulled over by a cop to get fined for out-of-date-registration, and then head to the registry to find $1200 of unpaid parking tickets - true story, that amazingly enough has been a pattern in my adult life as I stubbornly continued to say 'fuck it to the rules'... amazingly that attitude doesn't work - go figure!)

The next-best-step is creating a smoother life-ride for me, and the smoother it is, the more trust I seem to be building back up in this existence.

At the base of my character defects is an enormous mistrust in life, I know where it came from - dad died suddenly on summer holidays - I also know that this is a piece that cannot continue to rule my life. The chapter of my life touched my heart, but it should not haunt my every moment. That one event is not a predictor of all events, but my mistrusting reaction and my rebellion against life perpetuates this self-fulfilling prophecy that "life doesn't have my back"

It's just so obvious to me from this standpoint; if I rebel against the simple next-best-steps as I wait for the big glamours ah-ha moments, life doesn't work well and life ceases to flow with any sense of ease. Once life ceases to flow, my ego proudly feasts on that stinky + untrue belief system that 'life doesn't have my back'. However, if I do the "un-glamorous-next-best-step" life flows with ease, and I feel supported.

When I feel supported, I feel deeper faith. When life is smooth, I do not feel alone. 

And the miracle begins,

the wound starts a healing journey;

faith blossoms;

self-worth elevates; 

and life + I appear to co-exist, and further... co-create. 

The simple next-best-step, the seemingly 'un-magical' and 'un-heavenly' next-best-thing that presents itself is God (or whatever you want to call it) saying

Do it.

Do the thing in front of you.

Stop analyzing it and making it so fucking complicated. Just do what presents itself; once we do it (whatever it is) life flows a teeny tiny bit better, and the flow leads us to the 'mundane-next-best-step'.

All these mundane moments add up to a vast and beautiful treck through the mystery of this life.

And you know what else?

Often these 'un-heavenly-next-best-steps' seem totally unrelated to the prayers and demands that we are making on the cosmos;

and sometimes they are - but I am telling you -  if you just do whats in front of you, you will be in AWE at where it leads you. Sometimes it leads us directly to the hopes we have, other times it leads us far past our hopes, into a realm we could have never dreamed up ourselves. And other times, life gets dark and stormy and we find ourselves asking "WHY???", and still the next-best-step-philosophy remains true. One moment at a time, one foot and then the next. 

We do not know what we need. We do not have the true wisdom to pray for 'our own agenda'; us humans do not have that sort of insight. So, we must surrender.

The best thing we can do is pray that our lives become of service, that the will of the cosmo's works through us, and for the strength to be able to do the thing that presents itself, however big and bold and magical, or however... mundane. 

This is the work that builds faith. 

Stop waiting for the bolt of lighting to come into your life to reveal the why's and the how's and the big ol' future predictions, and start to practice listening to the fact that the cosmo are in fact speaking to you. The question simply becomes, 'are you willing to do what it presents itself; are you willing to listen no-matter-what?'. 

Today I am renewing my car registration before it expires; and today, I know that is one small piece of God's will for me.

It's alot more simple than I even thought it was.