The thing that changes everything.

I woke up one morning feeling so special.  Not in an arrogant, better-than-everyone-else sort of way in which this statement might normally be taken, but in a genuine awareness of how special we all are.  You.  Me.  Everyone.

And it is this deepening awareness that so strongly makes me feel the need to tell you so.

You are so special.  Prized.  Cherished.  Treasured.  Adored.  And your soul, your love, and your life matter so much more than you can possibly imagine.

Those of us that are lucky, have parents, family members, friends, and teachers tell us this as we grow up.  But to we really believe them?  Do we know it to be true as surely as we can feel our own heartbeat?

Why do we resist this?  For fear, as I mentioned before, of falling into arrogance?  The irony there is that at this moment, I can’t think of anything more humbling than to honor the magnificence that is all of creation, recognizing and celebrating the love and goodness and gifts within ourselves and others.

How strikingly beautiful would the world be if we all really knew how special we are and wholeheartedly lived our lives from that understanding?

There is a quotation from Holocaust survivor Jay Sommer that I always felt captured the essence of my mission as a public school teacher.  It goes like this:

“Inspiring students with a sense of their own worth gives them the confidence to express themselves more freely, to explore and learn through their mistakes, and to regard learning as an adventure.”

Perhaps we’re all just students who need to be inspired with a sense of our own worth in order to regard LIFE as an adventure.

May you know the depths of how truly special you are and allow that knowledge to be the spark that changes everything.

With love,


(June 25, 2015)

Photograph by: Morgan Sessions on Unsplash.com


The Sunday Post: You are enough.

Hello, beautiful souls,

I’m going to play with offering a Sunday Post. An email or blog post of inspired goodness for you each week, something to help lift you up and hopefully feel less alone.

I love Sunday’s. They are so quiet.

And today we had the privilege of some sunlight peeking through after the rain, so I got to see one of my favorite things…

Leaves with water droplets on them, glistening in the sunshine! All different shapes and sizes and colors, all shining in different and unique ways depending on their size and shape, the way that the sunlight passes through…just like our great big Human Family.

May you be wrapped in love as you read through today’s Post:


Walking towards the sunlight in the rain is hard…


It’s muddy and mucky and ucky and sometimes we can wonder if we’re ever going to get there.

But I have hope for you today…

Because each step we take MATTERS.


Every step we take towards the light, and all that brings us happiness and peace and joy, COUNTS.

It counts for something.

It counts for EVERYTHING.


So I’d like to share with you, these video clips from the Lion King.

Watch The Circle of Life all the way to the end and see that sunlight streaming through.


And then, watch at the end, where he returns to the land he once knew, shattered, tattered, shamed and destroyed.


It’s like this for each of us, the shame and pain, the anguish we feel within our own hearts. (And in our world)

And to make our way to the bright shining sun of restoration we so adore, and desire and deserve, we have to be willing to take those first few steps…

To climb that rock in the rain.

To remember WHO WE ARE. And know that IT IS TIME.


May you remember who you are,

the light of your being,


and just like the light of the stars

shining through


you’re enough, you’re enough, you’re enough.


And in this enoughness, you

are ALWAYS worthy of taking

steps in the rain to help you get closer and closer

to the light.


This week’s journal prompt is:

What helps you remember that you are enough?


I’d love to hear in the comments below, so we can create a beautiful collection of loving ideas for everyone.


And in the meantime, may you be so infinitely, and abundantly blessed.


Much love to you always,



P.S. Would you like a BE OUR GUEST Taste Test of the Heart-Mending Wordsmith Program?

*You can sign up here (just click the link above), play with the course, and then simply PICK YOUR PRICE and send in a payment amount that you select through Paypal. ( I recently did this for a lovely woman who purchased last week and it was beautiful! And she is loving the course! And I am so thrilled! 🙂 )

P.S.S. Would you like to receive a copy of my Sunday Post in your inbox each week? This is a new idea I’m playing with and it will include a little love note from me, some inspired goodness like this, and a weekly journal prompt for you to play with that week…and submit some of what you uncover in the comments if you like. Sign up for the Sunday Post here.


You are a brave soul.


“You are a brave soul,” she said.

And something within me

sat upright & at attention,

so now I want to share with you

that you

are a brave soul too.

These are the words down a blank sheet of paper upon returning home from an acupuncture appointment.

I can still see the desk now, my dad’s slanted art desk, white on top, with black trim…

and the gold, permanent, Sharpie marker I used to write these words down in my notebook.

You see, I had just experienced a devastating loss…and after a really horrendous Uber ride to my appointment that had my nervous system misfiring even more out-of-whack than usual, I found myself a sobbing wreck upon arrival.

I was immediately taken to my usual treatment room, where I lied out on the treatment table and allowed myself to cry while I waited for my appointment time.

In my sobs, a quiet woman came in. She was a Chinese woman with a soft demeanor, a gentle presence about her.

Memories of being in this very room, with the person I’d lost, a supportive friend who had been there with me in that very room on a treatment the time before…

I could see him there now. The memory so clear and vivid.

Yet, him, so anguishingly absent.

And I sobbed.

So much so that they sent this kind woman in to greet me, to sit with me, to wait me, and to help me find my own inner calm.

I don’t know what anyone expected, but I received a priceless gift that day…something that far outweighed any treatment I’ve ever received.

She gave me hope. And she, in a very real, and tangible and physical way, gave me the gift of knowing that I wasn’t alone, and helped me to feel the love, the softness within my heart.

She took my hand and gently placed it over my heart.

Then I believe she told me to feel, to feel the love within my heart, saying that it was always there for me.

And this gesture, this putting my hand over my heart that has meant so much to me over the years, found a new layer of good fortune, of treasure for me.

And as my cries began to quiet, and I allowed myself to soften and to breathe, she said, ” You are brave soul.”

And something within me did, truly, did sit upright, and at attention. Something within me sat up very clearly as if to say back, “yes, that is me.” And perhaps even on so say, “I’m so glad you finally realized, that you’re finally calling me by name, recognizing WHO I truly am. YES, that is ME.”

She helped me to believe in myself.

She helped me to know that I would be okay.

She helped me tap into a part of myself that even through the grueling years prior to that still remained untapped.

You see, we all end up in places in our lives where no matter who we are or how much we’ve grown, there is always still another level deeper…

Another level of peace.

Another level of skin to shed…to come to know our true selves more fully than we ever have before.

And that’s what this was for me.

A recognition of a part of me that had been there all along, just waiting for me to call her name.

To tell myself the truth about who I am:

That I am a Brave Soul.

And that knowing couldn’t help but come with the desire to spread the word everywhere, as far as I could reach that day…if only at first, from that golden scribbled message on the tattered piece of paper I’d written on that day.

So now, I finally have the opportunity to declare, to tell you how brave you are.

To say that you are a brave soul, too, and to let us join together and sing in nature’s most beautiful and glorious song, the song that lives within our hearts.

And that’s what writing is all about for me, uncovering the voice that wants to sing, the love that dwells within our hears just waiting to burst out.

So I hope you’ll join me, on this blog, in any one of my offerings.

It would be an honor to sing with you, in whatever form that takes.

Much love to you, now and always,



I’d love to hear from you in the comments…

What helps you remember your bravery and helps you feel connected to the love within your heart?


For the love of peonies.

I glance at the peony on the window sill, and admire its loveliness.

It is a large bloom, a light and delicate shade of pink in color.

I’ve known others to rave about peonies but I never quite understood. Perhaps because of never actually seen one in real life.

Now I get it, I think to myself.

There is a softness to them. And a fullness. Which, together…just feels right.

I remember a quotation from a dear friend of mine. It’s funny, because she too had the same softness, yet fullness of life.

Anyway, she said,
“Life is a leap of faith; a bold declaration of hope.”

I can’t count the number of times over the last few years since she left my life that I’ve thought of this quote. And that I’ve found myself thinking, she was absolutely right.

Just being here is an act of courage. Our very presence is a gift of grace.

And I do not say this lightly.

I know the heart wrenching anguish of this life. I know what it’s like to be at the brink, to be in such agony that all I want is a break from this life.

But I also know what it’s like to listen to a song, hear a simple harmony and have it break my heart wide open, as I cry and cry at what a holy and magnificent privilege it is to be alive.

And how is it that we were created to hold such depths? To be able to FEEL such depths?

This is not something that everyone can do. But my guess is, if you’re here reading this right now, you can.

Not everyone can face it all. Not everyone can allow themselves to feel it all.

Let alone face it and feel it at the depths that we do.

And while this may feel like an absolute curse to you, you’re right, because sometimes it is!

It is also one of our greatest treasures.

It’s what makes us fully alive.

It’s what helps us to bring new life into a world that so desperately needs it.

You are magnificent.
Your softness and your fullness are to be celebrated–and they are.

Today, I hope you’ll join me (and the angels and all of life) in celebrating the wonder and the miracle that you already are.

You are held and loved in each moment, dearest one.

May you feel and rest in this knowing, now, always, and forever.

(March 12, 2017)


Thank you for honoring my story.

A blog post I wrote a year ago that was never published…my intention is the same, pure and true.

And yes, it is true…our deepest pain often does hold our greatest treasure.

May you enjoy and be blessed as you read every word.

Much love to you,


. . .

As I set out on this fresh start, I want you to know that when I share my pain, I’m not sharing it as a cry for help or in an attempt to seek counsel.


It’s just that often times, it is our greatest pain that holds our greatest treasure.

And most any pain that I share here, I’ve already had a long, nurturing chat with–we’ve likely shared a cup of tea and I’ve likely held her as she cried, reassuring her that I’m with her, that I’ve got her, and that she doesn’t have to face any of it alone.

So I share my pain as an act of service, that it may become a doorway that leads us to the most remarkable collective treasure.

I do, however, still appreciate you receiving my stories with kindness & compassion:), honoring my lived experience and perspective with the respect that it deserves. You are wonderful. Thank you for this.

May you be blessed with all the love and compassion, kindness and courage that your journey requires. You can do it. Remember, you were born for this.



Sweet little bird.

From March, this past spring…

A lovely moment to bring you some peace and uplifting ease.

Much love to you, now and always,


. . .

Sitting on the floor today with Dino, one leg bent, the other outstretched–Dino snuggled up in the little crook of my knee, sweet eyes looking up at me.

Offering myself the sweet quiet space my body so desires.

Nurturing and love, relaxation & freedom. Freedom to create space. Freedom to enjoy space.

And in this moment of savoring, my head quickly turned to the right.

Right there, not any more than three feet from my door–my wood floor merged with the wood planks of the deck as I saw a sweet Little Oregon Junco through the glass.

The glass seemed to melt as I felt fully captivated and connected to her. I was amazed by how large she seemed, how sturdy and strong. Not what you typically think of for a little delicate bird.

But she was strong.

I noticed the way she tilted her head, and then three feet behind her I saw the sweet little bird I call Mama Hen. She’s small, like the junco, but with the coloring of a hen. So as she shows up here and there, a sweet little mothering presence when I feel I need it most, she earned her name fair and square. I think that she’d agree.

I just feel so thankful that she’s here to watch over me. All of them. Their cute little beaks and sturdy, steady feet. Dainty, yes. Delicate, perhaps. But also steady. And precise.

I just love them!

And I laughed with delight, like a little kid exploring something new for the first time. It was the energy of play; two toddlers jumping in a mud puddle after it rains!

And I felt connected to the peace within myself. And felt that it was an honoring of how far I’ve come–a celebration of the peace within me, knowing that birds would not come that close if they did not feel the peace and safety within.

So here I am. A sweet little moment, expanded for you today.

I hope that you find some sweet little signs from nature to guide you on your way–to bring a smile to your face and peace to your heart, helping you to know how infinitely and abundantly you are loved.



A welcome post for you.

Hi, my name is Caitlin and I’ve loved journaling all my life.

I love the way when I sit down and write, I always discover something new about myself. And I always seem to find a trusted friend who is always there for me.


Someone who listens and who can always understand.

When my dad died, I lost this connection to journaling, unsure of where to start in trying to put anything on the page. And one of my most trusted coping and support strategies seemed to slip through the cracks…

That is until I discovered a new way of journaling. By simplifying I was able to create something that supported me during that difficult time…

Difficult time…if you’ve experienced grief you know what an understatement that is, right?!

But I’ve come to a completely different place now. I have such honoring and gratitude and respect for everything I went through.

I even created an email group program called The Heart-Mending Wordsmith based on the writing I did later on and how it helped me to heal, as well as the way it so surprisingly found a way to help inspire others along the way.

And now I’d like to share this program with you.

I’d like to walk alongside you and show you the way.

It is the moon that guides you, a faint light from overhead…like walking on a distant island with waves crashing against the shore…

Grief is disorienting, exhausting, and I’d love to be here to help support you every step of the way.


Right now I’ve created three options for how you can work with me:

You can sign up for the email program and get started right away on your own.

You can sign up for a group program and walk the path with a lovely support circle of other women.

Or you can work with me one-on-one in weekly coaching calls.

All use the same framework from the original course.

What might we do in this course, you ask?


We journal.

We write.

We laugh.

We cry.

We heal.

We get serious.

We make meaning.

We take heart

We find courage.

We generate compassion.

We claim inner strength.


We find our way through…to a brighter future, a place filled with soul-shine and so much love.

Because that love is within you already. And I’d love to be the one to help you learn to heal. Not because there’s something wrong with you. But because I believe your grief is your greatest treasure in helping you move forward…

I know, I didn’t believe it either.

But now I’ve made it to the other side, so I do.

And I’d like to help you get there too.

Feel free to reach out to me anytime.

I’d love to know how I can be of service, either with the offers I’ve already outlined, or in some other way that I may not even expect, with something that you very dearly need.


So I’d love to hear from you…

What do you need right now?

What form of writing has been helpful for you in the past?

Do you believe that healing is possible?

Would you like someone to walk the journey with you?


Whether you answer these in the comments below, journal through them on your own , or simply find yourself pondering while you’re sitting out, relaxing in your backyard, I’d love to know, and I’m sending you SO much love.

Because that’s the motto: Letting go of perfection in honor of making space for love instead.

I’d love to have you join me.

Much love always,



Sacred moments.

I just came in from sitting outside a bit ago…

I was sitting on the bench out front where my dad and I used to sit on summer afternoons, watching the sprinklers come on.

(If you’ve known me for very long you probably know the story behind this. If not, you can read it here:

He walks out the front door every afternoon.  His body is dignified in the way he moves.  His dark, close set eyes are focused with determination, as he carefully makes each step down from the front door.  He grips the black, cast iron railing, the way he used to hold his tennis racquet in preparation for a powerful serve.
Before the strike of terminal illness, my dad didn’t sit – he could do everything faster and with more coordination than anyone else: running, biking, shooting hoops, and playing catch.  Gradually that changed.  He was forced to slow down and each step in itself became a challenge.  As a recent college graduate, I had moved to Portland to spend time with my family.  I admire the courage he showed in the face of great difficulty.
I follow along behind him, just the two of us, making our way past the railings that anchor our journey.  The sun is at its brightest, directly overhead.  We sit on the smooth, ceramic bench, with the coral cushion beneath us.  The bench feels sturdy and strong.  We are grounded and safe, side by side.  There is silence before the small, tube-like sprinklers with edges of corrugated plastic rise in unison, evenly spaced throughout the yard.  We made it just in time.  With a rush, water bursts forth from the tiny hole atop each sprinkler and forms a strong mist that fans out in all directions.  On a timer, the sprinklers were consistent.  The routine brought comfort and familiarity. 
A smile of delight appears on his face as he motions with a steady hand towards the radiance born when water and sunlight collide.  Side by side, we watch the moments of our lives, held in water droplets, as they dance through the air.  Each one flies up in firework fashion, and then falls gracefully to the grass to make room for the next.  A Quaking Aspen stands tall in the background with leaves fluttering in the breeze against a brilliant blue sky. 
I watched as he appreciated this moment as if it were his first and his last all at the same time.  He was captivated by the wonder of something so simple that, under other circumstances, we would not consider stopping to observe.  Today sunlight hitting water is a reminder that life is as extraordinary as we allow it to be.

Sitting on the bench today, it was as if I could watch, and feel, the moments playing out again in my mind, in my living memory — my mind’s eye. And as I sat there, marveling at how special this felt, I was reminded of how powerful this is, writing about loved ones we have lost.

It creates a sacred and special bond. It is a way for the memory to live on more fully than ever…more so than if we leave it to just hopefully stay and flourish within our hearts.

The love is already there. But the story is the magic that holds in together, that helps us to FEEL it and remember it once again.

The love lives within you. The story redirects you home.

To that special and sacred space within you where that bond of what you and your loved one shared lives forever.

And it would be my honor and my privilege to share this program with you.

My heart feels a call to share. And I trust it.

I know I am meant to share this because it feels so strong and gentle in my bones.

So, join me. Whether you join a group or decide to work with me one-on-one, I can promise it will be an adventure you will never forget.

And that you will come away with something that will always lead you back home.

Prices are all introductory, of course, right now since I’m just getting started so I’d love to have you play with me. I’d love to have you say yes to this idea and stirring inside of you that you may be feeling now.

If you feel it, then please, sign up, reach out, do whatever you need to do…but do not let this sacred moment pass you by.

Ask yourself:

What might be available for me, how might it feel to reach out and spend some time writing about my loved one?

How would it feel to write something to capture a moment or memory we shared?

How would it feel to create a physical and tangible reminder of my loved one and all that they mean to me?

How would it feel to capture some of my authentic experience and have something to help me find meaning and comfort…a light throughout this time?

Your answers to these questions will help give you some insight as to whether or not this program might be a beautiful blessing of support for you right now.

Just as I said, this sacred moment right now is yours, just like those moments with my dad and me watching the water droplets.

You get to decide what you do with your moments, your memories, let’s take them and create something that truly honors your loved one, together.

Much love to you, now and always,