Hello my dear. 

Although we may not have met, I already count you as my friend.

You see, the world is counting on us to share our gifts….

And we must help each other rise.

Sharing nakedly is scary for me. I’m pretty sure it is scary for most of us. Yet being real, vulnerable and brave is how I serve the world. And if you are here reading these words I’m pretty sure it’s how you can serve the world too.

So how are you going to bless the world?
And how can I support you to do that?

Write to me and let me know and I promise to write back.

Sharing my heart and words is my courageous response to a world that so often overwhelms me. I am one human-being willing to expose my inner world to remind others that we are all the same.

My prayer is that my humanness becomes a shade tree for you to rest under, a light to comfort you and a map to guide you home. 

Adventuring through this rich, messy and beautiful life isn’t always easy.
It’s not meant to be. That’s some cheap, new age idea that
keeps people buying things they never really needed in the first place.

Embracing joy each day is one of the scariest adventures of my life! It’s a curious thing that I have often felt more at ease with challenges and hardship than bright illuminated joy. My intention for the rest of my life is to feed and nourish joy in my own life and on this planet!

We all live the seasons of life. They come to expose and lay bare the humanness that connects each and every one of us together. There is nothing wrong with how your life looks right now. Without winter, how could we ever enjoy Spring?

The seasons depend on each other. We do too.

I write to offer something back for the countless books that have saved and changed my life. My words are love letters left behind. 

I firmly believe we all have the answers planted within us, all we need is the courage to explore. By gently listening to ourselves, seeking support and continuing to trust the next ‘tiny step’ that is whispering to us, we will awaken and realise we have made it to our dreams.

My offerings are an invitation to you, may they transform your life.

And remember to create time to celebrate the place where you are right now, it is exactly where you are meant to be, it’s on your map, it is the foundation for all you dream of, I can see it.

Regardless of how your life looks,
NOW is the perfect foundation for you to build upon.

Don’t be afraid to enjoy this big delicious smorgasbord of life. Choose courage over comfort whenever you can. Work with your resistance, maybe even make friends with it. And alongside this, keep making friends with JOY…

Here are my daily self-instructions….

Show up.
(Even when you feel afraid).

Be kind to yourself.
(Especially when its hard and when you make mistakes).

Be kind to others.
(Remember kindness looks many ways and includes boundaries).

Boundaries.
Don’t get out of bed without them!

Forgive.
(Yourself.. daily! And strive to forgive others, from a distance if you have to, because carrying that weight serves no one).

Take care dear one.

With love and kindness,
In service, KMF xo

The post A personal letter from KMF xo appeared first on Kate M Foster.

When you lose someone to suicide, life changes forever…. Yet somehow, Soni’s death continues to bring me alive… She somehow invites me to truly LIVE each day as the precious gift it is….

Truly LIVING is a gift i never expected to unravel out of grief…

It’s been a long time since you visited my dreams…. thank you for coming you luscious creature, this was my favourite visit yet xo

p.s. Poems are songs that whisper from the stars… so grateful this one fell from heaven xo

Last night
your joy was alive

Swirling it’s way through my heartbeat 

Leading me

Forward,

Dancing, 

Shenanigans,

Weaving life into my veins.

My footprints sparkled with starlight

Singing praises to the darkness and all its gifts exposed.

Laughter 

Once again

the mess that joined us,

Joy Dripping from our lips, 

The weight of a thousand stars burned all that was heavy and dead

And we were together again. 

Life lived through us

Play was the name of the game

your reckless laughter 

igniting my own

And Bending my bones 

While

My ears tuned in to the divinity I’d forgotten.

Ive missed you my friend

Your shade is my ice cream on a summer’s day

How did you know I’ve been

Yearning for 

the ‘me’ 

that was light and alive and no longer afraid of happiness.

Time had not touched you, 

The weariness I imagined was not a cloak you owned.

Sunshine revealed
no weight in your bones.

I’d forgotten how to dance like that. 

Together 

No shame,

no anger, 

Just oceans singing through our veins. 

I needed your visit.

I’d packed away that feeling,

The taste of fun,

But it looks good on my lips 

So I won’t be carrying around this dead coat 

or wearing it any longer. 

I lost it last night when you woke me from my slumber 

I’m

Awake now

And I won’t be searching for the darkness….

The post Words from a dream… appeared first on Kate M Foster.

This weekend at the mid winter festival we stumbled upon the children’s story telling competition. Freya was sitting right up the front as they were prepping the stage. All of a sudden she ran back and told me she was going to sign up for the competition (😳 insert my terror here)! All I could say was “you go for it love!” And then she ran back to the front of the audience to rejoin her friends (that she had met just a few minutes earlier). Using my voice has been one of my biggest lessons, and for a good number of decades I used extreme preparation to counter balance my extreme fear. As freya ran off I felt 5 years old and frozen. That little girl in me wanted to step in and warn her of all the things that could go wrong, to tell her that kids had been preparing for months and she had only just come up with the idea. To brace her because it can be scary to get up on stage with only you and a microphone 🎤 with hundreds of people looking back in silence. I wanted to caution her and encourage her to come back next year when she had time to prepare and had at least watched a story telling competition once in her life…. But… the 40 year old me had one clear request of myself. Please dear woman: Keep your mouth shut and smile.

And that’s what i did. 
I watched 7 children stand up and tell their well rehearsed stories (and I silently smiled as my mind did its thing). The 8th child was Freya. When her name was called she joyfully made her way to the very front of the stage and smiled while the sound guy adjusted her mic. 
I was in awe…. and totally frieking out… Then those shiny words fell from her lips with an ease I’ve never known…

Once upon a time there were two sisters, they were best friends…

And she never looked back.

I of course bounced between terror, presence and awe the whole time and when she said those famous words…. “the end”…. I wanted to scream and shout and kiss her and the earth because we had all survived!!!

The audience and I applauded wildly. The compare couldn’t believe she hadn’t pre prepared and had simply showed up minutes before.

But freya, Wild, free and certain as ever, simply clutched her $25 prize voucher from Fullers Bookstore and said “mama, once you get on stage you get used to it. I want to do it more”…

#naturalstoryteller
#Blessherheart
#Sheispracticingherautograph
#Imayneedmoretherapy
#Sheismyinspiration
#Thismotherhoodgig
#Motherhoodthetoughesthood
#Learningeveryday
#Myinvitationtotrust

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I offer you this chapter of my book as a gift… a gift in honour of Mary. If I could wish one thing for you it may just be that you too could have a Mary in your life…

These pictures were taken the last time we spoke…. xoxo

You will find these words on page 145 of my hardcover book,
An Invitation to Trust.

Make friends from all corners of the world. 

Honour diversity. You don’t have to agree in order to be kind and care for each other. 

My world contains the richest ragamuffin group of loveable humans you could ever imagine. By ragamuffin I mean diverse. Diverse in age, race, religion, culture, political views and their preferred method of folding their toilet paper (I’ve discovered scrunch or fold are the most common choices). In this book, I’ve written about a few of these friends and while I could easily have written about every single one of them and the wonder and beauty they birth into this world, I have chosen not to. Some things I guard with my life, my friends’ privacy and safety is one of them. I hold them close and dear to my own heart because our friendships are based on deep trust, consideration and respect. Friendship is a safe place for us to meet. Their absence in this book was simply a choice to shelter them from the spotlight and onslaught that can come from being exposed bare and naked in front of others. 

Now, it’s with deep care and respect that I introduce you to a few of my friends Mary and Mr Mac. They are husband and wife. They changed my life. Mr Mac’s real name is Arthurum Chichester Buchanan McCartney, he came from a time and place where names were as strong as the integrity you walked in. Most people called him Chic.To me he was always Mr Mac. His presence, while entirely matter of fact, was as warm as any heart I have ever encountered. Some people were scared of him, I found him safe and whole and good. From the time we first met, every single day after school, I would run next door and sit with him in his room. 

Some days we talked. Mostly we didn’t. We simply sat and basked in the presence we offered each other. 

In his younger years, Mr Mac was a radio operator in the Merchant Navy. Using Morse code and regular radios, he had steered ships to safety during the war, earning many medals for his efforts.That’s what he did for me too, steered me to safety. For the most part, he spent his retirement in peace in his radio room at the very end of his house. Not many people ventured into this room. It was like a den, another world.The walls were lined with shelves, which overflowed with books and artefacts from his life. He had his computers and a full old school radio set. 

Sometimes I would pull an artefact from his shelf and he would tell me a story. He helped me with my homework, he was the smartest human I knew. Upon his shelves was one of the only complete sets of the National Geographic magazine in the world. They were always trying to buy it back from him. I often feigned a need for help with my homework as a way to escape and run next door and sit with him in that den of warmth, peace and safety. Some people thought him harsh or brash, I never understood why. In the school holidays, he would occasionally let me listen to his radio conversations for a little while. He always told the men when I arrived and once they knew of my presence their conversations never lasted long. I’m not sure what they talked about, I do know that they found as much solace in his presence as I did. It amazed me that even after a whole lifetime, those naval mates managed to speak daily. Like clockwork, at the same time each and every day, in many countries all around the world, they each sat in their radio rooms and connected. They shared a lifetime commitment to honour each other, comradeship, the foundation their friendship was built upon. 

Mr Mac’s routine was solid. Each day, at the same time, he would drive the 20 kilometres to town to check the mail, visit 

the local electronics shop and collect anything on the list that his wife Mary had written. It was Mr Mac who drove me to work at the same time every Saturday morning. He walked me down the street, I was always on the inside, him on the outside, as this, he told me, was the only acceptable way a gentleman would walk. He delivered me to my door and wished me a good day. 

He listened when I had meltdowns, telling me such things as, “Never cross a bridge before you come to it, so much time is wasted in life worrying about things that never come” and, “For goodness sakes, don’t nag your husband. Be honest and clear and ask him for what you want and I promise he will do the best he can to support you.” He also sided with me when I was heartbroken, “The world is full of fools, don’t listen to them.” His reliability and constancy taught me about the goodness of men. His acceptance and generosity nourished my trust in the world. 

Mr Mac lived 88 years, which happens to be my goal too. He died when I was overseas on holidays with my family last year. Because I was out of range, I didn’t hear of his passing until I returned home a week after his funeral.A phone message from his daughter came through when we landed and I sat in the airport and unashamedly cried. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there to celebrate and honour his life along with everyone else. My love for both him and his wife will continue evermore.The woman I am today rests upon those years I spent sharing in silence, with the occasional conversation thrown in. It was an unlikely friendship, beautiful in every way. 

Deep breath. 

Now his wife Mary, she is a whole different human. Tall, elegant, beautiful and enchanting in every imaginable way. Joy her constant companion. Kindness and subtlety are her ways. When I fell in love with her Canadian heart, I automatically decided that I would like every other Canadian person I ever met in my whole life. As private as Mr Mac was, Mary is in equal proportion fun, flamboyant and wild. I have never been greeted by any human more kind and charming than Mary. When you arrive at her doorstep, her response is how I imagine God might look like when she sees us. The first thing Mary does when you arrive is take a deep breath, her eyes widening as she smiles and almost breathes your beauty in. “Oh my, you are looking beautiful. Oh how wonderful. Gorgeous. Stand there, don’t move, let me look at you.”And she does, she looks with her whole being. Everything in her stops and she looks at you as if you are a miracle. Sometimes her eyes leak and when she is done, she pulls you in for a hug, squeezing you tight. 

That’s how I want to greet the world, the same way Mary and God do. That’s my measuring stick. I’m still perfecting it, yet I have faith because I trained with a master. 

Mary taught me to parallel park. Every time I do it, I hear her voice guiding me. It was Mary, who, even in her seventies, would pull up at the end of the fashion runway when modelling for the local clothing stores, and take an extra thirty seconds to spin and twirl so that every single human present could soak in her beauty. It’s Mary who turns up at a Toastmasters training to teach and inspire youth with a tea cosy on her head. 

In my final year of school, Mary and Mr Mac flew me to Sydney with them for a weekend of culture. They introduced me to places I had never been nor knew existed. We spent a day in the art gallery viewing Monet’s art.We visited and ate at the botanic gardens.We shopped in the QueenVictoria Building for new frocks and then we wore those frocks to my first ever theatre performance, Phantom of the Opera. Mary set the bar for what beauty is for me and I dreamed that one day I may become like her, spreading kindness and joy, travelling the world, buying bargain haute couture and then returning to my beautiful home surrounded by friends, art and fun. 

That night, the night of the theatre, a vision of sophisticated elegance, Mary walked from the bedroom with a refined air of grace. Mr Mac was waiting to see our new frocks. What he wasn’t prepared for was the fake nose ring Mary had hanging from her face. She was as cool as a cucumber. He exploded with distaste. She played the cool fool for a good minute and a half, an eternity in Mr Mac’s world, before she finally caught the snorting giggles, another of the things I loved about her.We retreated to the bedroom to roll around laughing for a good ten minutes or more. 

Mary taught me joy. She taught me to be proud of the snorting laughter and belly cramps I got from hanging in her presence. After I had sat with Mr Mac, I would wander to the other end of the house where classical music was always playing and Mary and I would sit and share time. Some days we would bake pumpkin pie or cinnamon rolls, she was always attempting to convince me to learn bridge.We would plan her menu for the upcoming ladies bridge day (Prior to my time with Mary, I had never heard of cold soup!) or we would simply read Vogue fashion magazine together and dream of wearing the latest styles. Mary concreted in me a fathomless love of snail mail as she maintained friendships with penpals from all over the world. She also taught me that magic can truly exist as a grown-up. Not one part of me doubts that the fairy she saw as a child was real. My friend Mary is like no other, my oldest wildest friend to date! Her presence in my life is luminous. 

As you can see, my friends are vast and varied. May you come to know that friends need not fit neatly into any particular mould. I encourage you to find space for all kinds of people in your heart. If you are anything like me, maybe some people will scare you, listen to your gut and trust its messages. However, if the fear you feel is a shy or hiding kind of fear, be brave, go and meet those people, tell them something wonderful that you notice about them, you can even tell them you are afraid. All humans need kindness, especially the ones that build big walls. Be kind to them too.You never ever know where this will lead. I pray you too have your own versions of Mary and Mr Mac in your world, people who love you and who leave you to be courageously entirely you. 

All love, KMF xo

The post Saying goodbye to beloved Friends is never easy…. appeared first on Kate M Foster.

Listening to ‘Morning has broken’ my eyes began to leak and I asked myself:

“When does the grief finally end?

When will I finally be done and ok with letting go?” 

And to my utter astonishment, with the most surreal sweetness, 
grief answered:

“My dear, I shall live as long as you love, for within me lies the doorway to your most awakened compassionate heart… “

People will tell you that they wouldn’t change a thing in their life, that all of those ‘hard messy moments’ led them here… and this moment is divine…. 

And while I agree, I would also add that I’d change many things…. I’d set unwaveringly clear boundaries with my body and being and speak up and defend them with my life…. and I’d wrap all of my body and being and its perceived imperfections in a warm loving embrace, reassuring myself I was already enough, and that the ways others had violated me meant everything about them, and nothing about me.

I’d be less rigid and afraid. I’d say yes to so many more chances, i’d play and have oceans more fun. I’d caress my fear and seriousness into joyfull surrender…. Saying yes to so much more.. including that glass of red wine… 

Id shelve my righteousness and choose connection. I’d forgive myself so quickly shame would never find a resting place in my life and I’d whisper the words I needed to hear into my own precious ears… 

If I had the chance to choose over, I’d never be so afraid of love and life that I would run from the goodness and the relationships that fulfilled me. I’d give myself permission to say yes to my dreams decades before I finally did … 

But… My past is a salve that heals, if I let it… 

And while at times my heart breaks daily, I remind myself it was also made to, and those broken bits are the places all the love flows in and out.

I’m a rich, messy, beautiful contradiction and you have permission to be one too. 

Gentle days to you,

All love, KMF 

 @ Hobart, Tasmania

2 LONG AWAITED Brand New Invitation to Trust Oracle Decks are currently going to print and will be available in 3 months time – date to be released soon. To be the first to get your hands on my Daily Guidance Oracle or Self Love and Self Care Oracle pre-order here www.Katemfoster.com/shop

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Some days, quite unexpectedly, dreams do come true. And it seems when they do blossom it is usually with the support and love of others…. rarely do they ever blossom by themselves.

Twelve years ago while working alongside many Biripi people in NSW i received a message that I was to take women on retreats to the red centre of Australia. I was to connect them with the traditional owners out there and allow the magic and vast timeless nature of lore to heal them and guide them to remember that which they already knew.

At the time I had no idea how this would ever come about, I simply new the pull to get out in that red sand (munda) was loud and clear. I listened and trusted that in time I would know the way.

Some dreams take many moons to unfold. This was one of them. I am yet to find the words to share with you what we shared and experienced on our Returning Home Sacred Womens Retreat. I am not sure if they will ever come. What i do know is that my Anangu family has invited us to return again next April and so I will be inviting applications from women wishing to attend. There are only 11 spaces. This retreat is not for everyone and due to the remote nature of this retreat suitability will be carefully assessed.

You will know if you are ready.

I am infinitely thankful to the land, the spirits, the ancestors, the traditional owners, the women and all who made this sacred sharing possible. May all beings receive the blessings of what unfolded in this sacred land.

Even if you you do not come on retreat with me please do consider visiting central Australia, Uluru and surrounds invites you to a depth of being you may not have experienced before. I promise you wont be disappointed…

It is important to acknowledge that these images were captured by my dear friend Jessica Blaine Smith. This woman has shared and documented real moments from my life for as many moons as it took for this adventure to unfold. Her heart sees beyond and somehow she captures truth. Thanks for blessing me and the world Jess, yet again, you made it real. http://jbsmithphotography.com/ ps.I am excited for your coming offerings…

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A few weeks ago this room was packed to the roof, it was the storage space for our life as our entire home was packed in here while we travelled throughout the magical land of Oz. After living in a van for almost 15 months, arriving home to all our stuff shocked us.

Why do we have so much stuff?

Why do we trade moments of our life to work and then spend the resources we are paid on accumulating more stuff? Why do we allow that stuff, which demands our time, energy and moments, to govern such a large portion of our lives?

Surely there is more to life than things and stuff?

In arriving home there have been so many questions to live alongside for each of us. So much change. We love being home. There is no where we would rather live yet reentering environments like our school and community have been both comforting and shocking. So much has changed, yet so much hasn’t.

In our home we have family meetings on Sunday nights. This is our time to connect, check in with each other and reset our direction. It is in these meetings that we adjust the sails on our families ship and check that we are still heading in the direction we aspire to. These meetings are a safe place for each of us bring our requests, a place to breathe air into all the seems unfair or out of balance, a place to question and dream forward together and celebrate all that already exists. We even do a meal plan together so everyone gets to have input into our weekly menu.

Some might say we have too many guidelines in our home. And maybe we do. We have set bedtimes for reading and rest. We pack lunches the night before school. We don’t have screen time during the week however our eldest gets one hour each day on the weekend to use as she chooses (and let me clarify that all the content on our eldest daughters device is approved and discussed within the broader context of all her parents and step parents. We are each in alignment with the appropriate nature of the apps and games she chooses). She manages her own time usage. Sometimes she saves her screen time to be used on a different day. Our youngest rarely has any screen time. And while we do our best each moment to listen to and honour our children, there are still very clear decisions that we make as the adults in our environment. Natural consequences play out in most areas of life and at times I am a part of those natural consequences. My children are heard, respected, acknowledged and honoured to the best of my ability each moment. They are also given much choice and freedom however they are only given the final say on age appropriate choices. We are each bound by societal rules, the legal system, our boss or work environments, it would be contradictory to allow my children to have choice on everything. As humans we simply don’t. At best we each have the opportunity to choose how we live with the restrictions and rules life dictates. Our only choice may be the thoughts, definitions and meanings we place on the circumstances we find ourselves in. It is important to me that I allow my children to discover this for themselves.That even in choice-less situations they have the ability to choose how they navigate the position they find themselves in.

There is so much pressure for parents to conform to some modern shiny spiritual version of parenting in this current world. Freedom and choice at times are almost worshipped. Im certain part of this is due to our own hurts and pain. It may be that somehow all the times we didn’t feel heard or acknowledged or valued may have somehow got mixed up with our needs for choice and freedom, so we compensate by giving loads of choice and freedom when maybe what is underneath is a need for empathy, to feel heard, to be acknowledged, respected or valued. For me its possible to offer the gifts of empathy, understanding, to deeply listen and acknowledge, to value, consider and respect without necessarily having to offer freedom and choice at the same time.

And while choice is important, choice does not always bring happiness. In fact if you do the research, too much choice actually results in the opposite of happiness, you only need look at this modern world to gain a little insight into this. As a society we have more ‘choice’ than ever before and alongside that depression and suicide rates are continually climbing.

I am often asked how I know I am doing the right thing by having super clear boundaries with my children. The short answer is, I don’t. Yet the solace that guides me is the continual practice of living questions. Its the open ended nature of not needing a definitive lasting answer, yet rather an open continual reflection and questioning process is the best way i have found to support my children. And this is how i show up with my best each moment.

For us there is an especially important question we visit most days in our family….

What is most important to each of us, both as individuals and as a collective?

How can we support each other to live in alignment with this?

And how closely are all our little daily choices aligned with what we value most?

In our family, for the most part, we all agree that the hoards of stuff we have distracts us from what is most important….. precious moments connecting deeply with ourselves and others. In our family meetings we have clarified that our intentions are to have fun, play, respect our differences and share our kindness and gifts with each other and the world. We also agree that it is a really tricky dance to balance this ‘conventional life’ society asks us to live alongside the precious priorities our family shares together.

We don’t always get it right. We are all learning every single day and there are many days our juggling results in a grand mess. Despite our frequent failures we choose to celebrate that we even remember to have family meetings, listen to each other, reflect, discuss, connect, share and learn together. I figure that while ever we are still asking each other questions, truly listening to ourselves and each other and taking the time to connect each day, all will be well.

So where ever you find yourself in this rich dance of juggling and balancing life, I pray that you receive the support you need to keep learning and growing together. I pray we keep being kind to ourselves, even when it isn’t pretty and that we hold precious the courage it takes to birth change into our own lives and therefore across the planet.

It seems in our current world climate it is more crucial now than ever before to keep asking hard questions and to continue to aspire for that which seems out of our current reach.

All love and kindness, KMF (The fragile woman who people often assume is somehow invincible or doesn’t have challenges who is currently living the richness and showing up vulnerable yet kind to herself with a big messy insurmountable mess and sharing anyway! DEEP BREATH! And now to keep unpacking…..)

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