Yale Study reveals distinct brain activity triggered by memories of trauma

It is well known that people who have lived through traumatic events like sexual assault, domestic abuse, or violent combat can experience symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), including terrifying flashbacks, severe anxiety, and uncontrollable thoughts about the incident. But what exactly happens in the brains of PTSD patients as they recall these traumatic events? Are they remembered the same way as, say, the loss of a beloved pet — or, for that matter, a relaxing walk on the beach?

A new study co-led by Yale researchers finds that the brain activity triggered by recollections of traumatic experiences among people with PTSD is in fact markedly different from that which occurs when remembering sad or “neutral” life experiences.

In the study, which involved 28 different patients diagnosed with PTSD, researchers found that brain patterns were consistent across all individuals when they recalled their more typical life experiences. But when reminded of traumatic events from their past, neural responses differed significantly among the individuals.

“When people recall sad or neutral events from their past experience, the brain exhibits highly synchronous activity among all PTSD patients,” said Yale’s Ilan Harpaz-Rotem, professor of psychiatry and psychology at Yale and co-senior author of the paper. “However, when presented with stories of their own traumatic experiences, brain activity was highly individualized, fragmented, and disorganized.

“They are not like memories at all.”

The study, conducted with researchers at Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai in New York, is published Nov. 30 in the journal Nature Neuroscience.

For the study, the researchers asked each of the 28 participants a range of questions, which pertained to their traumatic experiences, events in their lives that caused sadness (such as the death of a family member), and moments when they felt relaxed. Each person’s story was written down and then read back to them while they underwent fMRI (functional magnetic resonance imaging) scans, which are used to map brain activity based on blood flow.

The researchers found that activity in the hippocampus — the area of the brain that forms memories of our experiences — followed similar patterns of activity among all subjects when they were reminded of sad or relaxing experiences from their lives, suggesting typical normal memory formation.

But when stories about their traumatic experiences were read back to them, the similarities in hippocampal activity among the group members disappeared. Instead, the hippocampus of each subject exhibited highly individualized and fragmented activity, unlike the more synchronous patterns of brain activity during normal memory formation.

The results could explain why PTSD patients have difficulty recalling traumatic experiences in a coherent way and hints at why these past experiences can trigger disabling symptoms, the researchers say.

These insights may help psychotherapists guide PTSD patients to develop narratives about their experiences which may help them eliminate the sense of immediate threat caused by their trauma, Harpaz-Rotem said.

Article By Bill Hathaway

Image by Michael S. Helfenbein

https://news.yale.edu/2023/11/30/study-reveals-distinct-brain-activity-triggered-memories-trauma

For some of us being in existence is a daily struggle.

For some of us being in existence is a daily struggle.

We create a to do list, something to look forward to-

Ways to hold us down on this planet.

Both with a strong drive to heal the wounds of our world-

As they crush our hearts and souls - of course- we are empaths.

Yet simultaneously there’s a part that just wants to leave-

A part that knows all this is completely futile-

It’s just stuff, it’s just things, it’s just …. transient.

We know the real place is not in this material body-

We come from the everything, the pure love state of godness-

And we struggle with all our might to understand-

Why the hell am I stuck in the body of a human?

Why the hell do I have to feel the pain and infliction we put on each other?

Why do I have to watch the destruction of life all around me?

When all I want to be is free-

All I want for anyone is life and freedom-

We create material ties-

I created a son.

I can’t die.

I have a son.

I can’t disappear.

I can’t ruin his life.

So I must hold on to life.

Hold on to something that gives meaning that has significance-

Something that connects me to the hearts and pain of the world-

…So I am a healer, an artist.

I help others make their journey a little kinder-

A little softer-

We hurt.

We hurt so deeply.

We find ways to cope, to manage-

To imagine happiness is a rainbow that is attainable-

Yet fundamentally I know that pain is part of life-

The ups and downs are part of life-

I struggle with human existence-

How the hell can I help anyone?

How the hell can I call myself a life therapist?

I have a thousand tools to help survive this life-

With the little bits of light daily-

To keep me here on this earth-

To give, to heal, to connect, to feel.

Even though underneath I know-

It’s a game. A game I have to believe with my whole being.

Otherwise it would be too easy to quit this brutal game.

Hold on.

Hold on.

Everyday, I look around and let beauty remind me of my true essence.

Everyday, I see the glimmer of light in someones eyes and I know they feel it too.

I feel my heart beat and I wonder how long I still need to be here.

Everyday, I treat it as if it’s my last.

Transience. Impermanence.

I’m building a tower of legos, knowing I can take it apart at any moment.

Yet with each brick, I remember that I’m here because my soul chose it.

For some fucking reason, I’m here.

There’s no point in wasting it, living a life of misery.

I must embrace. I must hold on.

I must nurture myself.

I must unveil the layers, the traumas, the attachments, the beliefs, the struggles.

To be able to go back home.

One day.

I may be ignorant but this is what’s on my heart today-

A culture abandoned

Or lost to thieves

Pushed out to be brought in

Like Disneyland in a hula skirt

We applaud the feats

They smile and shake their hips

I hear the tribal drum from afar

We love nature to death

We swim in corals

Dance with dolphins

And kill them with our zeal

We long to be close

And we strangle the life not ours

What would it take

To take it all back

To retouch the earth

With out foreheads

And pray

What does she want

Who are we ?

Help us find our way

Warm tropical wind

Kisses my face

Plumeria dances in my scents

I cry a tear of belonging

And cry for what I’m seeing

This land is not our land

This land is your land

Sovereign and sacred

We have devoured it

With our insatiable hunger

Costco, Walmart, target come in like saviors.

No longer self sustainable

We are dependent on the open arms of or our own demise

Aina ohana pono aloha

I long for what you stood for-

Your heart your history rings in mine.

Helpless and heartbroken

I drink à mai tai at sunrise

And bathe in this beauty

You offer with aloha.

#kauai #alohaspirit #hawaiiretreats

Dropping in.

Dropping in. 

The sense of literally something within the body that drops down. 

An energy that moves from the mental space down into the body, into the pelvis, into the feet. 

The breath gets deeper. 

The eyes begin to see detail, colors, perspective, depth. 

Full sensual newness. 

Sounds, visions, smells, a head rush arises. 

Timid, sense of unfamiliar. 

Shy. My system is trying to take in all the new sensations, attempting to find its footing on new soil.

Volcanic soil to be exact. 

A new sensation under my feet. 

How does my body find its balance?

Like a child discovering a new environment, sniffing, watching, exploring. 

The attempt to appear comfortable, at ease in my surroundings. 

Are they watching me? 

Do I look like the average tourist?

Should I sit here, shall I stand there, how can I appear more familiar with my environment when it is all unknown?

I stop to listen to my beating heart. 

I go beyond the blur in my brain and let my eyes look around. 

I let go of the expectation of appearing like a local and let myself be curious. 

Is it ok to not know. Is it ok to feel uncomfortable?

Is it ok to not know how things are done here?

Is it ok to feel shy?

As I begin to embrace my state of being, the air begins to clear. 

My bubble loses its density. 

A black and white bird with a red head hops onto the wooden floor beneath my feet. 

So many firsts. 

I take the time to let my body integrate. 

No forcing. No pressure. 

Just breathe. 

Wrinkle contemplations on a French Polynesian pontoon....

Iaorana, (that's hello in Polynesian)

There is a moment in life where you come to the realization that life won’t last forever.

I wrote this some days ago sitting on this wooden pontoon over the French Polynesian lagoon, (I am now back in SF) staring at what was my memory of the dream of “the island of the blue lagoon” where I always dreamt of being Milla Jovovich, swimming naked in that crystal clear water.

Unfortunately, I can’t swim naked here. I suppose I could but I’m sure it might scandalize some innocent families, virgin to a random stranger exposing her intimate areas. So, I manage to wear a somewhat skimpy bathing suit and trampse around, hopefully not making wives jealous.

I remember that I’m not 25 anymore but am still holding onto a somewhat fit and beautiful body of a 44-year-old.

I think there is something in the hormonal perfume I put out that means I am nearly no longer fit for childbearing, which seems to have lessened my chemical attraction magnets.

Nether less, I try to come to terms with the fact that at 44, I should have some retirement saved up, a fairly steady lifestyle or at least building one to assure that I won’t be screwed in the future.

But I still feel like I’m a child. I hang out on a daily basis with my inner 5 yr. old, my shy 15 yr. old, my wild 25 yr. old, and my wiser 44 yr. old self. But I still have this inner fire that wants to bite into life and keep seeing, exploring, discovering and dreaming of falling in love with THE ONE.

The one that I’ll get to grow old with and share crackly toothless laughs when we fart.
 

Assuming I'll look something like this when I'm old...

I get shamed by people who don’t understand my conflictual relationship with aging.

The truth is, I’m scared.

I don’t want to be full of wrinkles, have a belly and not feel radiantly attractive.

There you go. I admit it. I am totally attached to being beautiful.

I surround my life with beauty, my home, the places I travel to, the clothes I wear, and I enjoy seeing my beauty in the mirror.

I have developed the wisdom of non-attachment over time, to homes, lovers, places, things and money, but it’s hard to develop non-attachment to my looks and the way I feel in my body.

I’ve been a model since I was 15 and I still model (for Loreal anti-wrinkle creams, go figure).

Recent Loreal campaign

I want to feel vibrant. I want to feel radiantly beautiful and I don’t want that ever to go away, ever.

I know, you’re probably saying to me, “Carly, develop your inner beauty and it will radiate on the outside. Look at me, I’ve had to live with my looks my whole life and I’m fine.

Yes, but honestly. It’s not that easy even though the theory is there.

Besides looks, what will my life look like!?

I sit here watching the water and realize, I don’t want to be hopping from rental homes all my life, confined to one area to be able to make money, etc.

What do I want my future to look like? Because it’s now that I have to think about it as time is moving towards the end, right? Look, you see that? Another wrinkle! (I posted a viral post about how we are dying and life is short here)

I’m pretty sure I want to finish my days in front of crystal-clear warm ocean water, along with enough money to provide for and see my son and have a partner. (now that the idea is churning, why not sooner than later...Hawaii..? )

The sense of deep connection I get here is profound like the coral reefs I’ve been diving daily.

How many of you would like to live oceanfront where you can just walk off your front yard and dive into paradisiacal waters?
 

For me the word Dream isn’t a Dream. It’s an ATTAINABLE DESIRE.

Everything I’ve ever set my intention on; I have gotten it.

I’m fully aware and convinced that everything is possible, you just have to know in your heart of hearts that you want it and that you CAN have it. (well maybe not getting rid of all wrinkles without a botox face...)

But before understanding what we really want comes the period of discomfort and dis-ease.

We aren’t happy anymore in a relationship, a home, a place. We find all sorts of things that don’t work about it, problems, challenges arise and it’s either our subconscious or our soul that is saying, it’s time to move on.

The discomfort is actually an indicator that something wants to shift.

It might be the way we look at something or a part of our being no longer resonates with the life we have created.

The only problem is we don’t believe that there can be something better than what we know now. So, we stay in the same situation for too long until it makes us sick and depressed.

The hardest part of having what we desire is shifting the belief system that thinks we can’t.

I too often have to get to the point of deep discomfort to change things, but generally my intuition has me walk off the deep end.

I just hold the hand of an invisible God and walk off the deep end.

That’s how I ended up in French Polynesia.

It doesn’t mean I’m not terrified, but I’ve trusted my gut so many times and every time, life got even better.

So, I’ve gotten used to the fear and just trusting.

But, it’s still tough, takes a bit of discomfort to get me moving.

I think there is something shifting in me.

Firstly, I decided to “let go of the struggle” this new year’s, the struggle with keeping my home, my relationship. I let go of the relationship and soon I may let go of the home.

I’m still processing grief, which is undeniably extremely uncomfortable, but the water has truly given me solace and healing on the road to recovery.

To where? I don’t know, but I am following a part of me that says there is something greater in store for me.

So back to aging and my wrinkle terror...

I got a tattoo! A Polynesian tattoo.

Polynesian tattoos are filled with symbology and drawn directly on your body to fit the shape. I filled this one with symbols of what I'm calling in and what I want to honor. All the symbols described on my IG post click here

The last time I got a tattoo, I was 18. The horizontal part of the tattoo on my lower back signified the transition from my hometown of Arizona to moving to San Francisco and becoming fully independent.

This time, it’s about honoring a transition, allowing myself to age, to step into a third phase of my life. It’s super scary.

It’s a walk off the deep end.

I sit here, imaging myself being 80 years old, full of wrinkles, maybe missing a few teeth, and staring out at the ocean with light eyes that reflect the glistening light on the water.

I have seen. I have lived. I have smiled. I have cried. I never said I couldn’t. I embraced life with the heart of a 5 yr. old, the whole way through.

I like to think that my 80 yr. old self finally trusted life completely. She would gently laugh and pat my shoulder and say  “Carly, don’t worry, all those worries aren’t worth wasting your time. Just live and enjoy every step of the way, you deserve to choose to follow what makes you feel vibrant the whole way. Trust my dear. Trust. “

So how was French Polynesia?

On island of Moorea

I ate raw fish every day. I had the scents of pineapples, mangos and passion fruit and Tiare flowers inebriating my senses daily.

I lived in a bungalow near the water with rarely a guest in the other 5 bungalows.

The road I biked daily to the dive center was filled with fruit vendors, random dogs, chickens and people saluting me. The turquoise lagoon is on one side and the volcanic jungle on the other side. The dive center is a little hut located on a white sand beach.

I dove every day with lemon sharks, gray sharks and immense sea turtles galore.

I read, stared at the clouds, watched the ocean.

I spent hours snorkeling and got menaced by Picasso triggerfish who get all pissed off if I got near their coral hood. Little bastards…

I slept feeling the rocking of the ocean swell literally in my body.

I drank a pina colada or a mai tai at sunset and occasionally went out to eat with new friends from the island, but mostly I was alone.

I made myself the best meals ever, along with my new specialty, pan fried caramelized banana and nuts topped with plain yoghurt.

Overall, it was exactly what the doctor (or my somatic body) ordered.

Coming back, something shifted. I was able to cut the emotional cord of my past relationship. I can finally move on. Yes, occasionally letting the waves of grief arise, which they will, but overall this was the best gift I could offer myself.

Vulnerability works

Let’s get naked. Well, vulnerably naked. Vulnerability has a gauge. How much can I share? How safe do I feel? Can I open more and can I hold my own back to be there for myself in case of need. People really want to be able to support each other, be there for each other, sometimes we underestimate the human desire to feel needed. When we share vulnerability, it gives other’s the chance to be caring and supportive. It also gives them permission to share more about themselves, creating deeper spaces of connection.

Sometimes we have been vulnerable and have not received a positive reaction and may have shut down our ability because it feels unsafe.

This results in stuffing things down, not expressing ourselves and ultimately, all that we hold within will come forward in our bodies. Whether it be tensions, pains, or even disease.

Being vulnerable is not just about venting or exploding or laying our sh*t on others, it is about communication, learning when and how is the best way to share and if the other person has the bandwidth to be able to hold space for us.

If we have had traumatic or difficult memories of being vulnerable, it may have completely shut us down.

Learn how trauma, childhood stifling, parents who didn’t listen, school age mocking and ridiculing may have shut down our ability to be vulnerable.

Being vulnerable is truly a gift. It allows us to connect, release and let go of what is present and to be able to move forward and grow in a way that feels held and connected.

If vulnerability is challenging for you let’s talk. I help people be themselves and find comfort in vulnerability.  Contact me to learn more about how I can support you with somatic coaching.

There' always a life saver.

There’s always a life saver. 

I always had this motto: “Trembling the brave move forward” 

…and every time I’ve always been fine. 

…actually even better than fine. 

It’s like something always carried me that I knew I could rely on. 

Trusting is choosing a direction and walking off the cliff, knowing that you will be held.

I started with small things and made my way to bigger things, testing my invisible life jacket and my deep intuition. 

Now, I just know to trust. It has shown me that I can time and time again. 

Letting go of the Struggle. This Thanksgiving...

Today I woke up and a client of mine had sent me this quote.

as my heart felt heavy, this quote made me recognize that all is right. I got the desire to cry and let go and express gratitude as I lay down my hands to what life may offer.

It has been a period of deep letting go.

Letting go of potentially being able to stay in my home. Maybe letting go of a 5 year relationship.

Letting go of my struggle, the fight, dealing with people that are suffering who treat me as their punching ball.

…Letting go of fighting.

I grew up thinking I could only make it alone in this world.

My mom didn’t defend me. My dad oppressed me.

I only had the deepest recesses of my mind to escape.

Deeply alone.

To talk was a struggle. To exist was a struggle. To be seen was a struggle. To feel safety was a struggle.

I lay down the struggle.

I built my whole belief system around this. If I wanted anything in life, I would make it happen.

• I could only look out for myself.

• I could only depend on myself.

• No one else was there for me.

And thus, I created a life that looked like that, where I had to be strong all the time.

I didn’t know how to receive others genuinely caring about me. I didn’t trust it. What would they want in return?

I didn’t understand the theory of loving just because I’m worth loving.

This month has been a laying down of all those old belief systems, that even though I have spent years overcoming them, the residue still shows up in situations in my life.

I’m letting go of the long arduous fights to be seen to get to the point of saying, I’m really worth being loved. Deeply. I don’t have to fight.

I don’t have to fight to find safety in this world.

I am safe.

I don’t have to fight to be good, be worthy, have value.

I am good. I am worthy. I have value.

It’s humbling.

It melts me.

I’m saying goodbye to all the toxic relationships, holding onto boundaries, saying stop before I’m pushed to the edge.
Because I’m not alone.

I’m here for me.

I’m here to stand up for the little girl who thought she had to fight to find a place in this world.

I am safe. I am loved and I deserve to receive love.

I write all this because I realize that in my fierce independence, I forget that people love me and that not only do I care deeply about my clients and friends, they actually care about me.

So, I want to thank you. I know some of you really well, and others barely.

In any case, somehow, we are in each other’s lives.

And I want to thank you, because it’s a hard life if we’re all alone.

I choose to receive your goodness and I thank you for being in my life.

Happy thanksgiving.

Here’s a song I wrote for you this Thanksgiving morn. Click on image to listen…

There is a stillness

There is a stillness

That arises underneath the storm. 🌪

When a space within the body is found and the pathway has been well travelled.

There is a pathway that knows the way. 🌄

…To find it’s way back home. 

At the top of heart mountain in Banff, Alberta CANADA

To the silent space, within the body, where the soul exists. ⭐️

In a simple vibration of being. 

Pulsating, vibrating. 

Pure energy. 

In alignment with all things. 

Where resistance lays down its arms. 

Where fear, anger, anxiety and stress do not exist. 

All just is. 

It is. 

There is no judgment, no need to change it, no need to fix it, no need to control it. 

Trusting the evolution of impermanence in a constant evolution of growth. 

The edge is our growth. 

Where we meet our resistance, our “negative” emotions, our triggers. 

That is where we meet our learning curve.

 It is there where we surrender and we allow ourselves to see what is within that is desperately crying out to heal. 

Don’t fight against feeling your edge. 

Don’t fight against feeling the swell of tightness and tension in the body. 

Don’t fight against those situations that you fear. 

They are there to teach you, to give tou the opportunity to see within them, to see within your deepest darkest shadows. 

To see the pain that has not been healed, to see the child desiring to finally grow up. 

To see the part that remembers that it is God. 

Your job is to uncover the blankets and filters that hide your light. 

Our job is to vibrate ever more brightly. 

Whether it be through service, or our own deep embrace of our selves. 

We are on a perpetual journey of expansion. Thus is the nature of all things. 

Only our brains and ego fight against it. The control. For control is safety. 

Safety. That is what our egos desire. What strategy has your genius brain come up with to make sure that you stay safe… that the environment is controlled to never have to push the edge of discomfort?

The edge of discomfort is the place of healing and growth. 

Can we find the stillness and the peace under the storm, knowing that is the way and we always will come through when we ALLOW the flow to move through us, when we drop the RESISTANCE?

Written with the help of the Akashic Records. 

Being comfortable with being bad ;-)

These last months have been hard, like really, really hard. The grand topper was being cussed out by two different people I barely know.

Breath.

Long story short.

I had to end a relationship with a friend due to a series of challenging behaviors where if I didn’t set certain boundaries, I felt like I was betraying my own dignity.

Like many people, we tend to share 1 sided stories with our friends, and in turn people who don’t know me well, empathized with her, by hating me.

I have always considered myself a really really good person. I am an empath and truly care about people and have compassion and understanding for even the most difficult peoples stories.

Even her.

BUT I’ve also gotten attached to wanting to prove my identity of being a “good person”.

I make myself really friendly with new people, I listen deeply to their story, I show them that I care, and underneath I would be devastated and indignant if they didn’t perceive me as a good person.

I constantly reevaluate my actions, analyze conflicts or misunderstandings and check in where I would have behaved in a way that was not ok and make amends if needed.

For me, having people hate me based on not understanding my story was absolutely terrible.

• My first impulse was defense.

I ruminated for hours about all the reasons she was wrong and I was right.

• My second impulse was to try and minimize my story to bare hard facts to justify my actions.

When that didn’t win them over, I realized no matter what I said, they had made up their mind.

I couldn’t persuade them because they had chosen a side.

So, I had to get used to people hating me for a reason that I knew wasn’t true and just sit with that.

My word to hold on to was integrity. I was standing up for my integrity and my truth.

But even then, that idea began to get old. Here I was attaching myself to an identity of being right and justified.
 

Is there shame in breaking off this friendship? Could I have showed more compassion? Could I have stretched my capacity for tolerance and understanding even more? Maybe.

I’m reading a book which I highly recommend called “Existential kink” by Carolyn Elliot.

It talks about embracing the part of ourselves that we push down, shame and try to suppress. It’s that inner voice that says “I’m not enough”, “I’m a bad person”, “I’m not worthy of love”, “life is hard”, etc.

Mine would be “I’m afraid of not being a good person”.

Unconsciously we try to fulfill the inner beliefs we have about ourselves and our world.

So, even if we consciously believe we are a good person because we do all these good, service oriented, kind things and everyone tells us how good we are… but we unconsciously are afraid of actually being a bad person, we will find ways to prove that belief.

So the idea is to get into that belief and not suppress it, because if we do, it will RULE our LIVES unconsciously.

We have to get in there and embrace that underlying belief, like kink… embracing the self flagellating, demeaning, shameful things we believe about ourselves and just learn to truly hold space for that part of our existence.

Once it has been truly seen and heard, it gives it the opportunity to shift.

In my story, I constantly wanted to be a good person because I was afraid that maybe I was actually bad.

I might have even unconsciously created this shitty situation because I wanted to learn boundaries, integrity and learn to be ok with not needing to identify as a “good person”.

When I FINALLY embraced the fact that this was so utterly important to me, I could Let go of it.

It’s hard having someone perceive you as bad, but I’m getting to be ok with that.

I don’t have to smile if I don’t feel like it or go that extra mile to make sure someone doesn’t have a pre-judgment about me. I can choose.

Often times I’ll smile or offer an extra service anyway because I genuinely do care about people, I know a heartfelt smile returns a smile and that feels good.

BUT I don’t NEED the external validation of being a GOOD person as much anymore.

TRY THIS

Check in and see why you do what you do. Instead of judging it, applaud it, embrace it, pat it on the back.

Eg. Oh there you go, cracking a joke and being loud for everyone to hear you because you’re really worried that people won’t like you.

It’s ok.

Eg. Look at you, getting all dressed up, overdoing it on the makeup and the new clothes because you want people to think you’re special.

It’s ok.

Eg. I just yelled at my boyfriend because he didn’t show me he loved me and I’m afraid that I’m not good enough to be loved.

IT'S OK.
 

When we get ok and can embrace those parts we don’t want others to see. Life gets a lot lighter.
 

No more extreme pressure to appear to be who we're not.

No need to suppress all those shadows and constantly create an entire strategy to avoid those parts ever being seen.

It’s ok.

All of you.

The self deprecating, longing for love, appreciation and value self is OK.

Sending my love to all those parts of you.

I will not be tamed.

The arial viewpoint from above the clouds between two countries.

I will not be tamed.

I hadn’t been a renter for 20 years until I came back to the bay area 5 years ago. I have had the privilege of learning about the societal hierarchy called tenant and landlord.

Landlord. (Note: my particular landlord is not meant to be a reference for this writing, I’m speaking of the idea of landlord in general.)

Do we still use this word?

The land LORD. And we are but the humble renters, void of freedom and will?

We can be kicked out, abused of, made to pay extraordinary costs, to have a roof above our heads, no need for a relationship or even face to face conversation. It’ s all in the contract.

We can be requested to remain quiet, to not change anything, to not put a screw in the wall, to not park more than 3 cars, to not fix your car, to not smoke outside, to not be able to leave as no one but us is allowed to pay any rent in the house.

We can become slaves to have a roof over our head. No vacations because each of us pays thousands of dollars a month and every hour counts.

Vacations become rarer as we think of the empty room sitting on piles of money each night we are gone.

Like letting food rot on your table. But rather something that costs more like caviar.

The landlord.

If you want to be free you must have money.

Buy your own multi-million-dollar home to rent it out to some vacationer, some lowly renter.

Buy your multi-million-dollar overpriced home for the view and the beach.

Beauty is for the privileged.

What! Did you say the privileged?

“I am not! I went to school, I work non-stop, I strived to get where I am now. I deserve my wealth. Thank you google, thank you technology and all the addicted users. “

Freedom or Slavery?

Is it really that house on the cliff overlooking the ocean that denies a home to a local who has lived here for 30 years? His home that was once off the beaten track has become paradise for the telecommuters.

Move away, once again, find a place that they haven’t discovered yet. And try to make it, without their money, without the system of slavery to the big dollar.

Who am I? Yes, 5 years ago I lived in a gypsy caravan, now I live in one of the biggest houses in this little beach town. I can’t say that I have found peace.

It’s not where you live, but who you live with.

It’s not the size, but the quality. (no pun intended)

I just came back from France today where I own a half an acre of land, a little gypsy caravan, a cabin and my latest handmade build; an octagonal deck. I sweated through each one of those tiny home builds and felt the satisfaction of their completion.

I spent my days in overalls and boots, carrying wood, digging holes, pouring cement, gardening, drilling, pounding nails.

I could just pay someone to do this. I could work for a few days in the bay area and have someone build it for me, instead of me slaving away 8 hours a day for 2 weeks.

I could.

But, there I’m free, I don’t have to ask anyone. I don’t have to not make noise after 10PM. I don’t have to ask to put in a screw in the wall. I don’t have to negotiate with roommates about décor.

I love having a big home in the SF Bay, I can concentrate on my work with somatic therapy, my clients, I can enjoy the beach, hiking, my white sheets.

I don’t own it. I borrow on someone else’s rules. I don’t feel deeply connected to this home, I don’t have my sweat and tears put in this home, heck I don’t even want to invest in buying an extra refrigerator shelf.

5 years ago, I came to SF to be bigger. To be a contribution. Now, I live in a big ol’ house that most people can’t afford. I get to receive people to my house and not be ashamed of it being too simple or not big enough. But yet I wonder in this illusion of grandeur, is it really something to be proud of?

What I love about life is choice.

I get to choose now. What kind of life do I want to have?

Whenever I’m in the airplane between France and SF, I get to see my life from a bird’s eye view and ask the question; am I in the right place? Is this the pathway in my life that I really want to be taking?

The “norm” sustains an unannounced race to get THERE. Nice house, financially lucrative job, then what?

• What else is there once you can afford to eat out, take vacations, buy your kids new stuff and host friends at your big house?

• Why do I feel a sense of boredom?

• Am I just working to pay my rent! Is this it?

• Is this the carrot they hold in front of your nose your whole life!

• Then what’s next?

• Own my home, become a landlord and live the good life of travel while someone else is following my rules and renting out my property. What is this old narrative I’m playing into; do I really still live in the Middle Ages?

Creativity is key when the societal norms become stifling.

I used to think the Bay area was the dream, creativity, spirituality, abundance, diversity, acceptance. You could be anything you want to be.

At least if you have $$$.

I am so grateful to this place. Yes, it has all that and more. YET. YET.

I don’t want to live in France again where I lived for 10 years. I felt stifled by the rules, the lack of positivity, the sensation that everything was the opposite of possible and I was poor.

My son says I complain a lot.

So, I’ll stop.

I like to think I’m just questioning the norm and checking in with myself. If this is the reality of things, is this ok for me or not; do I buy into this system or do I choose something else?

OR… do I just see things as they are and say “hey, things could be a lot worse elsewhere and I can thank my lucky stars that I live in a world of privilege.” And yes, we have a lot of privilege.

What do you think?

Would you trade comfort for freedom?

Or does comfort allow freedom?

To what point are we willing to lose freedom for the comfort we need to be free?

It’s a viscous circle.

But in the meantime, I thank my stars that I can afford to sit and ponder these questions.

Pondering allows us to live more intentionally and consciously.

Thank you for pondering with me.

I'm not a rock star

I’m not a rockstar
I'm about to bring you into a deep dive with me, are you ready? 
I went to a healing circle a few weeks ago where a program I had ingrained in my identity was removed.
When I was young, I used to see the world as a hurtful, cold, mean place and my room was my only safe space. I would decorate it to make it beautiful, I would surround myself by my drawings, flowers, dolphins, colors that felt relaxing to me. I was safe there.

I ran away from my family environment and travelled the world for 20 years. Searching beauty, novelty, and excitement and lust for life. At the same time, being at home in my little world wherever I went, whether it was my camper, or redecorating my cheap 1$ room in India with scarves and rearranging the furniture to make it more visually beautiful and energetically peaceful, even if it was just for one night.

Wherever I would go, I would create my little bubble.

Even when I did street shows for 10 years, I would set up my scenography in the middle of the street, I’d set up the curtain, roll out the black and white linoleum and decorate with boas and colors so that I could invite people to watch and take part of the space that I had curated and that I felt at home in.

Me with platinum blond hair performing a street show in Italy.

Over time, I learned that I had gifts, talents and things that only I could offer.

The more I let myself open to the world and feel the world, the more pain I felt.

Being an HSP (hyper sensitive person), reading the news or seeing others suffering was excruciatingly painful to me. I cry when trees get cut down, I cry if I see someone else suffer, I cry when I feel people’s pain in their bodies when I give bodywork.

I feel WITH. I am connected to Freaking everything.

Luckily, I now know how to not energetically carry that with me and to let it pass through me.

When I came to California 4 years ago, I left my 8-year-old son with his Dad in France, because I was struggling with money, depression and a sense of smallness. I felt a call to be my GREATEST CONTRIBUTION to the world and that I couldn’t do it in that situation.

I thought California was the hub, the nucleus with branches that reached out to the rest of the world. I thought that this was the place where I could grow, expand and become big, so that I could share my gifts and resources to help the world to heal.

The twisting knife-like constant pain in my heart of not being near my son was compensated by believing that I am fulfilling the calling to be a bigger contribution to the world in the place where I would have the most opportunity financially and socially.

But now, after the healing circle, the question came up. Well, WHY!? Why do I need to heal the world, why do I need to be my greatest potential, why do I need people to receive my gifts? Why do I need to be BIG?

This revelation flipped my world upside down, 2 weeks struggling with waves of depression, lack of motivation, confusion, a sense of blankness around my identity.

If that isn’t my identity anymore, well, who am I and what am I doing here?

I feel the world and the process that is happening.

I created an online offering which is tomorrow called Healing Ritual; moving beyond the pandemic. 

I had the desire to support people in healing and acknowledging the pain and trauma of the pandemic before being rushed into another distraction without properly closing the circle. I have so many tools to support this process, I KNOW how important it is. But no one, I mean NOOONE has signed up. (Hence it is Cancelled.) 

This is a repetitive story. I see what is needed, I know I have the tools to help, and no one sees how they might need it. Instead of me being able to simply offer the gift (I’m not doing it for the money.) I find myself spending all this time doing the busy work of promotion to get people to understand why they might need something like this. In the end, I become the needy one. The one who needs people to show up for me so that I can offer a gift.

Well, “Fuck that,” says my deluded self. I’m going to stick to working 1:1 with people who actually pay 200$/hour who want to better their lives, who see the benefit of working with me and truly value the resources I have to offer.

I feel sad. I feel really, really sad. I don’t want people to hurt, I don’t want people to live unconsciously hurting others. I want to help more people on a massive scale, but it seems like that’s not what people want.

So here I am, ranting on my captive audience.

Why am I sharing all this?

Once again, my uncontrollable innate desire to support others and help people move towards a more beautiful life and world drives me. I want to validate my own authentic and vulnerable self to give others the opportunity to so also.

There is the bitter part of me who really wants to say FUCK THEM. I’m going to take care of myself because nobody wants what I have to offer anyway. Welcome back to childhood trauma, I was never told I was anything special and here I am trying to get someone to think I am.

I’m glad I’ve been able to transform and support my 1:1 clients. (And, when I do pull together group offerings, it’s incredible, powerful and people are deeply moved).

I wish I could transform the whole world, I always thought I have the energy of BONO of U2 when he sings In the name of love and 10,000 people sing it at the same time. But I guess my sad little heart will have to settle for not being a rock star and love 1 person or just a few at a time, the ones who actually need what I have to offer 1:1.

Sending care from this place of self-doubt and vulnerability. Guessing I’ll lose a few subscribers and a few clients who thought I was a rock star and had it all together.

Hi, it’s just me. I have a few tools. I’ve helped a few people. And I’m not a rock star.

Blessings. Carly