This is what we're doing here.

an introduction + future plans for this space

Friends,

Happy September. I’m feeling quite at peace this morning as I open my laptop to write to you. September is my birthday month (the first day of autumn, the 22nd, is the day of my birth, and is always, always sacred for me), there is a lovely chill in the air here in Philly (51 degrees this morning!), and yesterday, I turned in the rough draft of my new book, tentatively titled The Life of a Story!

acorns play an important part in the book, I’ll share more along the way!

So today, I want to just show up here with a word of gratitude, a little reintroduction for new folks, and some thoughts on what’s ahead here at The Liminality Journal!

For those who are new here, I’m Kaitlin. I’m an award-winning author, poet-storyteller, and public speaker. I’ve written three adult-nonfiction books (with one on the way), and two children’s book in a series of four books on the four seasons called An Indigenous Celebration of Nature. The third book in the series will be out next Spring and I can’t wait for you to read it!

Besides writing full-time, I also travel across the country and speak to diverse audiences interested in truth-telling and care. We explore interspiritual connection, healing, and relationship with one another and Mother Earth. I love leading retreats, so if you’re looking for someone to hold space with your group, I’d love to. You can check out all the kinds of keynotes/retreats I lead at my agent’s website.

If you are new here, please drop a note in the comments and say hello!

a lovely table display at the Chautauqua Institution where I spoke this summer that managed to display all my books together!

when Winter’s Gifts came out, I took copies to our climbing gym and gave some away with cookies!

I absolutely love words. I was the kid with multiple journals, and I still am that person—they’re stacked all over my office, alongside the books that have made my life rich and full.

I am beyond grateful that I get to be a writer, that I can take ideas and shape them into something that I hope helps someone else find their way home to themselves and the earth. That’s why I am here, and I think that might be why you are here, too.

I started The Liminality Journal in September of 2021 (which makes me a little teary as I write!), so we’ve been journeying together here for a while. You can read that original post here, but here are some words on liminality that I wrote back then:

Liminality means we know how heavy and complex the world is, and we choose to make space and exist because of it. We choose presence, boundaried presence that allows us to know ourselves well and love others better. 

So, we choose presence here. Whether we are present through writing daily poetry together in May, or you’re a paid subscriber who comes to our writing sessions, or maybe you like the series I share, like this one on where publishing is these days, I am so glad you’re here. I mean it with all my heart, this space makes me truly happy.

This artwork is still one of my favorites of all time. The liminal space held in this image is beautiful.

So, what are we doing here, right now? I’m so glad it’s September, and that you’re here. To celebrate, I’m doing a two-book G I V E A W A Y!

On October 1st, I’m giving away a copy of Native and a copy of Living Resistance to someone here at The Liminality Journal! Everyone who is subscribed will be placed in the drawing, including all new subscribers through the end of September!

So, if you know of any friends who might like this space, please let them know!

I have a few really exciting things happening this fall, including speaking at a retreat in Ireland with my friends Gareth, Brian and Mickey (you can still join us! click here to apply), some fun holiday events and posts, a short poetry series, and a longer series on the realities of being a full-time writer coming soon.

So, no matter the reason you’re here, I’m grateful. Thank you for reading these words, for embracing liminality, for asking big questions and journeying home to yourself alongside all of us.

I leave you today with a poem I wrote as the air brought a bit of a chill, and I reluctantly reached for a sweater, because I always want to beckon autumn close before it’s really time to:

At the end of summer’s days
she becomes a trickster,
a shapeshifter as we are
teased into believing that
the chill is here to stay.

But summer, she giggles
as she raises the temps
once more, twice even,
as we peel off our hats 
and take off our sweaters,
lamenting to ourselves.

But summer, her tricks are
of the tenderest kind,
and we can hold her in
a steady embrace as
her days pass us by.

A trickster leaves us with
a lesson to hold on to, and 
Summer, she does that for us,
leaving us with memories 
and holding us steady for
the coming autumn chill.

If you’re feeling in the poetry-writing mood, I’d love for you to share a short poem about the transition from summer to autumn and what that feels like for you!

Photo by Jake Young on Unsplash

Until next time friends, may you find space to breathe, to hold liminality, and to find tenderness in ways you were least expecting.