For me, those terms and conditions have often hinged on one deceptively simple word: “once.”

Once I have more clarity. Once this opportunity works out. Once I find the right partner. Once we have the house. Once I make a certain amount of money. Once I feel like I have fully grown into myself. Once I feel completely aligned.

Then I’ll relax. Then I’ll feel settled. Then I’ll allow myself to fully enjoy where I am. Then, finally, I can exhale.

I don’t think most of us consciously decide to postpone our lives in this way. It happens far more quietly. We begin relating to the present as though something about it is provisional — as though this is the version of life we are inhabiting while we wait for enough pieces to fall into place for the version we really want to begin.

I can see now how often I have done this without realizing I was doing it.

Over time, though, I have arrived at what now feels like an incredibly obvious realization: there will always be another “once.”

“Once” happens all the time.

The thing we wanted arrives. The uncertainty resolves. Something we worked toward finally works out and, for a moment, perhaps we feel exactly as we imagined we would. Life continues. Another desire emerges, another unknown presents itself or another horizon quietly begins calling us forward.

Strangely, I have found that realization incredibly freeing.

I think desire is a beautiful part of being alive. I want things and I suspect I always will. There are experiences I would love to have, places I want to go, things I want to create and versions of my life I am excited to evolve into. I don’t believe presence requires us to silence our desires, pretend we don’t care what happens or become so detached from life.

I think there is enormous power in being able to name what we desire. Our desires reveal so much to us and often awaken our imagination and invite us into deeper, more intimate and devoted relationship with how we go about our life.

What has changed for me is not the depth with which I desire, but the way I want to hold those desires. I want to hold them with more spaciousness and trust, with less insistence around exactly when they need to arrive. I am becoming less interested in detaching from what I want and much more interested in loosening my attachment to the timeline on which I believe I need to have it.

Every time I tell myself “once this happens, then I can be okay”, I am unknowingly making my relationship with the present conditional upon a future that does not yet exist. I am asking something outside of me, somewhere ahead of me, to give me permission to fully inhabit the life that is already here.

That’s not a way I desire to life these days.

I right now am in this beautiful space of deeply desire what comes next without requiring it to arrive right now in order to “be okay.” I can move toward a future I would love without interpreting the present as lacking, simply because it does not yet contain everything I hope it eventually will. I can have strong preferences around how something unfolds. without requiring reality to follow the exact timeline I imagined before allowing myself to experience true peace.

Perhaps the evolution isn’t learning to desire less. Perhaps it is learning to hold desire with enough trust that feelings of urgency can dissipate.

The in-between is not a waiting room.

For me, living with that urgency has rarely looked like literally waiting around for something to happen. My life has always been happening — and I have always been an active participant in it. I was loving people, creating things, traveling, laughing, experiencing beauty and moving forward.

The waiting was far more subtle than that.

It was a felt sense of contraction — as though some part of me was holding my breath for what I wanted next to arrive before allowing myself to fully exhale into the life I already had.

The more aware I have become of that feeling, the less willing I am to experience my life that way. I don’t want to hold my breath through one unknown, briefly exhale when it resolves, then begin contracting around whatever comes next.

There will always be something next.

More and more, I want to breathe through the in-between. I want to be with myself while I don’t know. I want to allow something to remain unresolved without interpreting uncertainty as evidence that something has gone wrong. I want to remain deeply excited about what might come next while still allowing myself to become completely absorbed in a dinner, a conversation, a beautiful place, an ordinary afternoon or whatever life is offering me now.

Life is not suspended while one of our desires remains unrealized.

The in-between is not the space between our lives. It is our life.

There is something humbling about recognizing how much of my present contains things an earlier version of me once placed after the word “once.”

Some of what feels completely normal to me today was once something I hoped for, imagined or wondered when I would finally have. Things that once occupied enormous amounts of mental space are now simply woven into the fabric of my everyday life.

Of course those things eventually became familiar. That is part of being human. I don’t think we need to manufacture perpetual awe for everything we once wanted, nor do I think we should feel guilty for continuing to desire more.

Still, there is something worth noticing in how quickly an answered desire can become part of the scenery while our attention quietly attaches itself to whatever hasn’t happened yet.

I don’t want the inevitability of another “once” to make me want less from my life. I want it to make me more available to the life I already have.

Trust changes our relationship with time.

The more I have sat with this, the more I have wondered whether some of the urgency we attach to our desires has less to do with the depth of the desire itself and more to do with our fear around when, how or whether it will arrive.

If I knew with absolute certainty that something I deeply desired would eventually find its way to me, would I really be so preoccupied with how long it took?

Perhaps not.

I have come to think that urgency often appears in the space where trust has not yet fully arrived.

Trust, at least as I understand it now, does not mean convincing myself that everything I desire will arrive exactly as I imagine it, precisely when I would prefer it to. That feels less like trust and more like another attempt to turn uncertainty into certainty.

The trust I am interested in cultivating feels much more expansive. It is trust in my relationship with myself and with life. Trust that I can meet new information when it arrives, change direction when something stops feeling true and experience disappointment without making it mean I was wrong to desire something in the first place. Trust that I do not need to know exactly where I am going to recognize what feels true in the moment I am standing in.

Perhaps this is one of the greatest changes I have noticed in myself over the last few years: the more I trust where life is taking me, the less afraid I become of how long it takes to unfold.

There is so much peace for me in that.

I don’t mean that I believe there is one predetermined destination I am guaranteed to reach. I mean that I trust myself enough to keep meeting life as it comes. I trust that what is right for me does not require me to spend the journey toward it in a state of contraction. I trust that I can remain open, respond to what life shows me and continue moving toward what feels true without needing to know exactly how or when everything resolves.

The self-trust I have cultivated has not made me desireless. If anything, it has expanded my capacity to hold even more desire, but with far more spaciousness.

I can want deeply without gripping quite so tightly. I can act, choose, create, advocate and move toward what I want with enormous intention. I can have strong preferences, hope something happens sooner rather than later and care deeply about the outcome without making my peace contingent upon the timeline.

I simply don’t want when something happens to determine how available I am to my life while it is still unfolding.

There is a freedom in being excited about where I am going without being in opposition to where I am. There is a freedom in trusting what is still unfolding without requiring certainty about what it will become. There is a freedom in allowing the future to remain deeply desirable without asking the present to apologize for not being it yet.

That is the relationship with desire I find myself moving toward now.

Desire without urgency. Trust without certainty. A willingness to remain deeply devoted to what I want while being equally available to the life meeting me today.

There will always be another “once.” Another desire, another unknown, another part of my life that has yet to take shape.

I hope there is.

I want to keep wanting things. I want to remain excited about everything I have yet to experience. I want to imagine, create, become and continue moving toward whatever feels true.

I simply don’t want wanting what comes next to make me unavailable for what is here now.

The present moment was never meant to be a waiting room for the life we desire.

It is our life, and I want to be here and experience all of it.

My hope is that this leaves you with something worth sitting with too. Not a reason to desire less, but an invitation to notice any invisible and unconscious terms and conditions you may have unknowingly placed on your relationship with the present.

Perhaps there are places where you have been telling yourself once this happens, then I can exhale.

Perhaps you don’t have to wait.

With love and gratitude,

Xx Kit

This is a space I have been desiring to create for some time and I am so happy to say that it now finally exists 🖤

A space for musings on alignment, purpose, authenticity, integrity, worthiness, meaning, relationships, nervous system capacity, self-trust, beauty, ease and the ongoing pursuit of building a life that feels true, whole and fully yours.

My hope is that this becomes a place where ideas are allowed to unfold before they are fully formed. A place where the subjects we explore can be sat with, returned to, questioned, softened and revisited. A setting spacious enough to hold evolution.

I have always been drawn to conversations that make room for complexity. There is something about allowing for the fullness of an experience that has always felt more honest to me — more reflective of who we are and the lives we actually live. Conversations that do not ask us to flatten ourselves into one identity, one outlook or one perfected philosophy have always landed softer on my nervous system. I feel safest in spaces where nuance, contradiction, becoming, devotion and all of the beautiful “muchness” that makes us human are allowed to be seen, witnessed and, perhaps most importantly, not rejected.

I often describe myself as a bundle of contradictions in all the best ways. I think there is something profoundly beautiful about allowing ourselves to be fully and completely ourselves — to be many things at once without needing every part of us to fit neatly into a box.

We can be both soft and ferociously ambitious. Warm and accepting, yet deeply discerning. Thoughtful and intentional, while still being silly and playful. Deeply devoted to growth, while guarding against falling onto the never-ending self-development hamster wheel where we begin treating ourselves as perpetual projects requiring constant improvement.

I care deeply about the inner experience of our lives while also taking enormous pleasure in the outer one. I am interested in meaning and beauty, depth and ease, thoughtful details, beautiful places, craftsmanship, history and the things that make being alive feel a little more special. I am endlessly curious about people — what matters to them, what makes them come alive, what they are devoted to and what they are becoming. Seeing others, and feeling deeply seen in return, has always felt something like a love language to me.

In many ways, I hope This Is Alignment becomes a home for all of that.

In life, I really do believe the things we need have a way of finding us in the right place, at the right time — not always in the way we expect and often, not all at once.

For the better part of the last several years, alignment has been one of those things for me.

It was a word I began hearing everywhere — in conversations, books, podcasts, wellness spaces and soulful chats with friends. It had become so widely used that it would have been easy to dismiss it as the next beautiful trend in the world of self-development. But my relationship with the word became much more personal than that. It was less that I suddenly noticed alignment everywhere and more that something in me had become deeply attuned to it — and, even more so, deeply desired it.

For years, alignment seemed to circle me before I had the language, capacity or lived experience to fully understand what it was asking me to see. It felt less like an esoteric concept I wanted to understand and more like a way of being I felt called to embody. Something about the word seemed to hold the shape of what I was already moving toward — more honesty, coherence, ease and inner knowing — before I could fully name it, and before my nervous system had the capacity to fully claim it as mine.

I imagine many of us have words that strike chords like this at different points in our lives. Words that seem to find us because they hold something our soul is longing to understand. For some people, perhaps that word is purpose. For others, authenticity, belonging, freedom, devotion or fulfillment. These are not simply words we are drawn to. I think they can reveal something deeper about what we are longing to understand, embody or become more honest about.

For me, that word was alignment.

Not because I had clearly defined it yet. Not because I had some perfectly formed philosophy around it or had even identified the pillars of what alignment meant and looked like to me — more on that in my next Substack. But because sitting with the question felt like the beginning of a path I was meant to take.

It felt like life was inviting me to ask what it really meant to build a life that felt deeply fulfilling. Not just beautiful from the outside. Not just impressive. Not just purposeful in the way we are taught to understand purpose. But coherent. Honest to my own desires. Fully embodied. Truly mine.

That is the pursuit that brought me here.

I wanted a space where I could explore alignment not as some mythical concept, not as a wellness trend, and not as a performative word we use when we want our lives to sound more intentional than they actually feel.

I desired to understand what alignment looked like as a lived and embodied way of being. How it shapes the way we relate to ourselves. How it changes our capacity and our desires. How it influences our relationships, our work, our purpose, our self-expression, our ability to receive, our relationship with ease and the standards we hold for the life we are creating.

I also wanted a medium that could honor the fact that my relationship with alignment is still becoming. And I think it always will be.

I personally would never fully trust any professor, instructor, teacher, therapist or guru who claimed to have “arrived” and was not still committed to doing the work themselves. Ram Dass once said, “If you think you’re enlightened, go spend a week with your family.” I have always loved this line because it reminds us that our growth is not proven in theory. It is revealed in our closest relationships and in the moments we feel the most triggered.

This Is Alignment is not a place where I am arriving with a fixed agenda, clear answers or a desire to share all my musings as proclaimed truth. In all honesty, that could not feel less aligned with what I desire this space and community to become.

What feels much more honest is my desire to create a space where my thoughts can evolve as I do, in real time. A space where musings on alignment can be explored with depth and softness. Where there is room for nuance, shadow, contradiction, beauty, joy, honesty and the hard things, too. Because alignment, at least as I am currently coming to understand it, is ultimately a state of non-rejection (more on this in my next substack 😊) .

My definition of alignment holds room for a much more alive and honest experience than an ideal of perfection.

Part of why Substack feels like the right platform to begin sharing more deeply on is because of how spacious expressing on here feels. Even with this post, I have loved getting to be longwinded and getting to sit with all my musings, rather than force them out in a condensed format and succumb to a false sense of urgency.

If you have found your way here through statechanged, you may naturally be wondering why I feel called to bring these two creative endeavors to life at the same time.

They are each distinct — but also, deeply interconnected.

In many ways, This Is Alignment exists because of the capacity I have developed through years of nurturing my own nervous system — the lived experience and practice that ultimately became the foundation of The statechanged Method, and I love that This Is Alignment now gives me a place to explore and share more of what has become possible as a result of my commitment to nurturing my nervous system.

statechanged asks: How can we better understand and support our nervous system, build greater capacity and spend more time in a state of Regulation?

This Is Alignment ponders: What becomes possible once we do?

One is the practice. The other is the philosophy. One is the methodology. The other is the conversation. One explores how we cultivate the capacity to meet and hear ourselves. The other explores what happens when we begin listening.

statechanged is rooted in the fundamental belief that wellbeing is our natural state. Through The statechanged Method — which you can explore more deeply through the workbook and on the website — I explore each of the four nervous system states, the adaptive purpose each one serves and how we can meet ourselves wherever we are with greater awareness, compassion and agency.

This Is Alignment has emerged from that foundation in a very personal way. In many ways, it is an expression of the self I have had the capacity to become through my commitment to my work with statechanged. Because once we have greater nervous system capacity, what do we do with it? What becomes available in our relationships, our work, our sense of purpose, our self-expression and the way we choose to build our lives? What becomes possible when we have greater capacity to listen to ourselves, trust ourselves, connect, receive and be fully present in the lives we are actually living?

The relationship between nervous system wellness and alignment is something I find deeply interesting, because I have noticed that the more nervous system capacity I develop, the more my own definition of alignment softens.

There was a time in my life when I remember moving with far more rigidity than ease. I thought doing more would somehow ensure I would receive more, become more, have more or finally feel safe enough to “simply be.” I can see now how much of the way I moved through the world was powered by a low-grade sense of fear — that if I wasn’t constantly pushing, pleasing, proving or preparing, there might come some point in the future when I wouldn’t have what I needed.

That version of me feels far away from the way I move through the world now, but I hold her with a lot of tenderness. She was really trying. She was in the process of becoming. And she was doing the best she could with the tools and capacity she had at the time.

Years ago, I probably would have imagined alignment as an experience that felt much closer to certainty — a life where everything seemed to make sense. A version of myself who always knew what she wanted, made the right choices, felt consistently connected to her purpose and moved through the world with unwavering clarity.

I completely understand why that vision of alignment is so compelling. But I no longer think alignment requires us to become some perfect, endlessly optimized version of ourselves.

If anything, I think my commitment to alignment over the past few years has made me more human.

My commitment to alignment has invited me to let go of the rigidity, certainty and performance that once felt so necessary. It has softened my relationship with myself. It has taught me that “being aligned” doesn’t mean knowing every answer. It doesn’t mean never changing your mind. More and more, I think alignment is less about performing a perfected self and more about remaining in relationship with yourself as you grow.

That feels much closer to my soul’s purpose. Not the version of purpose that feels like a title, achievement or destination, but a quieter kind — the kind that emerges when your inner and outer worlds begin to feel more coherent. When you feel less divided within yourself. When life feels not necessarily easier in every moment, but more honest. More grounded. More yours.

Those are the conversations I am looking forward to having here. Conversations about what it means to live with more honesty, steadiness, beauty, self-trust and ease. Not ease in the sense that life never asks difficult things of us, or that alignment means everything suddenly becomes effortless. Some of the most aligned things we will ever do may also be some of the most difficult.

But I do think there is a profound ease that becomes available when we are no longer in constant opposition to ourselves. The ease of honoring what we know before we can fully explain it. The ease of becoming less performative in daily life and showing up more sincerely. The ease of knowing that our lives do not have to be shaped by urgency in order to be purposeful, meaningful or important. The ease of allowing our definitions to soften as we soften — including our definition of alignment itself.

Because I don’t think alignment is something we define once and then spend the rest of our lives perfectly embodying.

I think alignment is something we orient toward and continue to take action in service of. A devoted and embodied practice that asks different things of us at different points in our lives. It changes as we change and meets us differently in different seasons. What felt aligned five years ago may not feel aligned today, not because it was wrong then, but because we are no longer the same person meeting the question.

Alignment is not fixed. It is alive. And I think there is something sacred about allowing it to remain that way — something we continue to listen for, return to and deepen our relationship with as we move through our lives.

There are so many musings I cannot wait to share, but for now, I want to begin here — with the opening of a space.

My hope is that This Is Alignment becomes a place to think more deeply, feel more honestly and sit with questions that deserve more than quick answers. A place for beauty and shadow, purpose and uncertainty, self-trust, worthiness, authenticity, integrity and ease. A place that honors the ongoing experience of becoming — of showing up with greater honesty, moving in the direction of our deepest desires and creating lives that feel uniquely, unmistakably and meaningfully our own.

I am so grateful to those of you joining me here at the beginning.

I have always found it to be the very best place to start.

With love and gratitude,

Xx Kit

I mean that quite sincerely. I can believe deeply in something, act in devotion to it and allow it to shape the way I move through the world, while remaining open to the possibility that life may show me something I haven’t considered yet. My understanding can deepen. My perspective can soften. New information or lived experience can entirely reshape the way I see something. To me, conviction and openness have never felt mutually exclusive.

Over the last two years, I have spent a lot of time sitting with musings on alignment — what it means to me, how I define it and, perhaps most importantly, how I relate to it.

Some of these pillars have emerged simply from sitting with myself long enough, and with enough nervous system capacity, to recognize what feels true. Others have become clear through experiences of profound misalignment — relationships, environments, decisions and seasons that taught me something precisely because they did not feel right. Many have also strengthened as my nervous system capacity has expanded and I have developed a more intimate relationship with myself.

Over time, these are the ten pillars I have landed on.

I am sharing them because they carry a deep sense of resonance for me, and I have a feeling that some of them may resonate with you too. Not as commandments or a concrete definition of alignment that I expect anyone else to adopt as truth, but as ideas to sit with, question and perhaps recognize something of yourself within. Take with you what feels true, remain curious about what doesn’t and allow your own relationship with alignment to be entirely your own.

I hold these pillars with conviction, but not rigidity, knowing that my understanding of alignment will continue to deepen, soften and evolve as I do.

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Recognizing Alignment

Before we can consciously build a life in greater alignment, I think we first have to become capable of recognizing what alignment feels like for us.

1. Alignment begins as an internal experience before it is ever externally embodied.

Before alignment becomes visible in the relationships, work, choices and life we create, it begins within us.

Someone else can admire our life, validate our choices or believe we are doing everything “right,” but they cannot determine alignment on our behalf. A life can look beautiful, impressive or perfectly considered from the outside and still not feel like our own from within.

This is part of what makes alignment such an intimate pursuit. No one else gets to inhabit our inner world. No one else can know the particular feeling of being at home within the life we are living.

Alignment begins as an internal recognition of what feels true. The external expression comes later.

2. Greater nervous system capacity creates greater capacity for alignment.

Our nervous system capacity shapes how much we are able to hear, hold, receive and act upon.

When much of our available capacity is occupied by protection, fear or survival, our world naturally narrows. There is less room for curiosity, complexity and choice when so much of our energy is devoted to simply getting through.

As our nervous system capacity expands, so does the space available to hear ourselves beneath the noise. To hold complexity. To discern what we actually desire. To receive what becomes available to us and take action in service of what we recognize as true.

Greater nervous system capacity doesn’t determine what is aligned for us. It expands our capacity to recognize, choose and experience it.

3. The body often recognizes alignment before our mind catches up.

There are things we feel before we can fully explain them.

Something can make perfect sense on paper while something within us quietly resists it. Something else can carry an unmistakable sense of resonance before we have the language to explain why.

This isn’t about abandoning reason or treating every sensation as instruction. Discernment matters deeply, but our minds are not our only source of knowing.

Sometimes the body has already registered something worth paying attention to while the mind is still trying to make sense of it.

4. Our relationship to alignment is revealed through lived experience.

There are things about ourselves we simply cannot know in theory. We have to live.

Our circumstances, relationships, environments, opportunities, obstacles and conflicts continually offer us insight into ourselves. How do I feel around this person? Who do I become in this relationship? Do I feel more like myself here, or somehow more performative? Does this environment leave me energized or depleted? Does this opportunity make me nervous because I am moving toward something I deeply desire, or is something within me quietly asking me to pay closer attention?

Sometimes we need contrast before we can recognize what feels true.

Lived experience offers us insight that introspection alone sometimes cannot. We learn ourselves through the experience of being ourselves in the world.

Learning Through Alignment

Not everything we experience will feel aligned. What we do with those experiences matters just as much as recognizing the ones that do.

5. Misalignment isn’t failure — it’s information.

Some of the most valuable clarity I have received in my own life has come from discovering what isn’t for me.

That doesn’t automatically make the relationship, opportunity, environment, decision or season a mistake. Sometimes we need to experience something before we can understand how it actually lands on our system.

Misalignment can sharpen our discernment. It can reveal a boundary we didn’t know we needed, a desire we hadn’t yet named, a standard we are ready to raise or a value we hadn’t yet fully understood.

There is something freeing to me about no longer needing every experience to have been “right” in order for it to have been worthwhile.

Sometimes knowing what we want requires becoming intimately familiar with what we don’t.

You can absolutely experience detours in the right direction.

6. Alignment doesn’t require urgency.

Not knowing yet doesn’t mean we’re lost.

I think we place enormous pressure on ourselves to know — what we want, what comes next, whether something is right, who we are becoming, what our purpose is supposed to be.

Some answers need time.

Some desires require enough spaciousness for us to distinguish them from fear, conditioning, expectation or someone else’s idea of what our lives should look like. There are things we may know somewhere within ourselves before we are ready to name them, and things we simply may not be ready to know yet.

Alignment doesn’t ask us to manufacture clarity simply to relieve the discomfort of uncertainty.

Something true doesn’t become less true because it took us time to recognize it.

7. Something can be difficult and still be deeply aligned because of the ideal it serves.

Alignment is not synonymous with comfort.

This distinction matters because it is easy to assume that something aligned should always feel easy, expansive or immediately good. I don’t believe that is true.

A difficult conversation can serve a relationship we deeply value. An uncomfortable boundary can serve our self-respect. Discipline can serve a dream. Sacrifice can serve something sacred to us. A demanding season can be deeply aligned with the life we have consciously chosen to build.

Some of the most aligned things we will ever do may also be some of the most difficult.

Sometimes the more revealing question isn’t Does this feel good right now?

It is: What is this in service of?

Trusting Alignment

At some point, recognition and discernment ask something more of us: they ask us to trust ourselves.

8. Alignment isn’t certainty. It’s self-trust.

For a long time, I think I unconsciously imagined alignment as something that would feel a lot like certainty.

Certainty wants to know exactly how something will unfold. It wants reassurance that we are making the right choice and that everything will work out in the way we hope.

Self-trust asks for something different.

Alignment doesn’t promise that every decision will lead exactly where we imagined. It doesn’t require unwavering confidence, perfect clarity or the absence of doubt. It asks whether we trust ourselves enough to listen, choose and remain in relationship with ourselves as life unfolds.

There is a softness in that distinction that I really love.

Sometimes alignment sounds less like I know exactly how this will turn out and more like I trust myself enough to find out.

9. Alignment is meant to be recognized; it cannot be manufactured.

We can cultivate the conditions that make alignment easier to recognize.

We can build nervous system capacity. We can become more honest with ourselves. We can practice discernment, pay attention, create spaciousness and learn to listen more intimately.

I don’t think, however, that we can optimize, perform or strategize our way into genuine resonance.

There is something about alignment that has to be recognized rather than forced into being. We can create the conditions that allow us to hear ourselves more clearly, but we cannot manufacture what we hear.

Perhaps part of the practice is learning to trust the difference.

Living in Alignment

The final movement is the question of what alignment looks like not simply as something we recognize or trust, but as a way of relating to ourselves and moving through the world.

10. Alignment is a state of non-rejection.

Non-rejection does not mean indiscriminate acceptance.

It doesn’t mean having no standards or boundaries. It doesn’t mean remaining somewhere we have outgrown, tolerating behavior that hurts us or pretending something is right simply because rejecting it feels insufficiently evolved.

We can discern without condemning.

We can choose differently without rejecting the version of ourselves who once chose differently. We can outgrow something without making the past wrong. We can experience difficult emotions, uncomfortable nervous system states and imperfect seasons without interpreting them as evidence that we have somehow failed at alignment.

To me, non-rejection is the opposite of self-abandonment. It allows more of us to belong.

Alignment isn’t about becoming less complex. It is about allowing ourselves to be fully and completely ourselves — the ambition and the softness, the depth and the playfulness, the devotion and the freedom, even when those parts of us don’t always fit neatly beside one another.

Alignment makes room for all of our “muchness.”

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My hope in sharing these pillars is that some of them resonate with you. Perhaps one gave you language to something you have felt, but haven’t yet articulated. Perhaps another invites you to consider your own relationship with alignment in a different way.

Life changes. We change. Our capacity expands, our relationship with ourselves deepens and we inevitably meet the question of what is alignment? from new places, at different points in our lives, as different versions of ourselves.

I am so curious to hear which of these pillars feel most resonant to you, and what your own lived experience has taught you to be true about alignment.

There is so much more within each of these ideas that I am looking forward to exploring here, but for now, I’ll leave it here.

Thank you for taking the time to read and sit with these musings.

With love and gratitude,

Xx Kit