6:15 AM// Magnolia Yoga Studio

Letters

Dear Magnolia Studio (and all of the lovely glowing people within),

Thank you for being more than a space or a place– thank you for being a refuge.

Thank you for being a place where my body, and any body, can enter feeling welcomed and at ease.

Thank you for knowing my name and recognizing me every single day, at every single class– and for doing this for everyone who walks through your door.

Thank you for guiding and teaching me to believe that yoga is more about practicing— over and over and over again– and less about doing— walking in one time to check off a box.

Thank you for helping me to understand that building strength in my body does not mean necessarily mean “no pain, no gain”– that sometimes strength means being gentle, taking a break, and remembering to breathe.

Thank you for reminding me to breathe.  Even when I am curled with my head between my toes.

Thank you for igniting in me, and in everyone who practices here, a belief that I have the power and beauty and strength and love within me that can go out and move mountains and dance with my arms overhead and show kindness to everyone I meet.

Thank you thank you thank you.

Namaste y’all,

❤ Kat

5:57 AM// Steamboat Natchez

Letters

Sometimes I wish I could take what I’m seeing– the exact curvature of the sky, the faint rippling of the water, the line of light casting shards and shadows– and be able to record it.

Not with a camera or binoculars or a video– but real time.

Exactly through my eyes.

Through the squinting of my pupils.

There are certain moments where I find myself pausing and thinking to myself, “Wow. Wouldn’t it be great if I could remember this moment, right now, for the rest of my life?”

Watching the sun rise over the Mississippi was one of those times.

8 AM EST//Top of the Rocky Steps

Letters

Friday, 8 pm EST

Text to my “little” brother John: “SO proud of you and have SO much fun!!! Sending you some Jazz Fest ~vibesfrom NOLA.”

Truthfully though:

I am not at Jazz Fest. 

I am not in New Orleans.

I woke up, at 4 am Friday morning, and hopped on a flight to Philly.

And sent the text to my brother from a friend’s sofa in North Philly.