An Invitation to Trust

(This is the last letter and podcast you can access without a paid subscription)Dearest Brave Hearts,Is there anything more glorious than slow mornings, soft sunshine, a snoring cat and warm tea resting in hand?Some may argue yes, but I’m in heaven as I sit here writing to you. I am relishing this moment as it’s equally rare and wonderful.I wish I could wrap this gentle peace I’m feeling in this moment all around the earth, landing a little into all the hearts that are broken, stretched and afraid right now, and buoy up those who are treading water in challenges that are very real.Wonder can feel like a long forgotten skill. A luxury left behind in childhood, or stolen with the demands of adult life. Maybe we willingly surrendered it in past battles or heartbreaks? When did you last feel wonder?Curiosity is another dear friend needed to survive each day in our current world. But how easily does it fall away to judgement for a more solid conviction the second we become frightened.I don’t begrudge us leaping from curiosity to judgment, I do it daily. But I have also built a practice of maintaining a connection to curiosity into my daily life, because without it, I’d be a bitter, cynical and ruthless human around the clock.So how do we stay enchanted, or at the very least open hearted, in a world that is trying to harden us, make us afraid and keep us reactive and moving far too fast for any human being to sustain?These are the questions we must keep alive if we are to stay soft, kind and generous in a world where we see evidence of what selfishness and hard heartedness can turn us into any moment we look at the news.We gather here every weekend together, because resting, reconnecting and remembering that we belong to each other is the wisest choice we have in the smorgasbord that is currently our world.We don’t get to pick and choose who is part of humanity, and we can’t boot anyone out, no matter the atrocities they commit. This is the reality of being a grown up on earth. We all belong, whether we feel like we fit or not.We have one earth, one human family, and whether or not we agree with each other, we must maintain our commitment to caring for each other.We must not let fear keep us divided. We cannot let it create the ‘us’ and ‘them’ that immature leaders rely on for traction.In our homes, communities, workplaces, schools, religious institutions or elsewhere, all the great leaders I have seen don’t hesitate to acknowledge different values, but they also remind us of our shared responsibilities to humanity as a whole.Our little moments and choices count.They stack up and build mountains. They eventually fill oceans. They shape what people will remember of us when we die.And the majority of our current leaders would have us believe otherwise. It’s in their best interests if we are frozen, overwhelmed and numbing out.They need us to recklessly and insatiably seek secondary pleasures above all else. (Secondary pleasures are economically driven). But what they don’t realise is that you and I are each a part of the growing tsunami that remembers what our bones know. What our wise ancestors lived.We are here to rest, share our resources, tend our gardens and support our communities.And we have always known how to do this.Look at us, most fulfilled when:We share meals.We tend each other’s gardens.We sit around a fire together.We watch the stars.We plant seeds in soil and hearts.We immerse in music, dance, culture and art.We help each other up when we fall.We disagree respectfully, honouring boundaries and care.While we all get busy and forget what is most important, we must keep coming back to the primary pleasures I’ve listed above. It’s ok to lose sight and perspective, we all do. Thankfully we have each other to serve as lighthouses in the dark. Plus no matter how disconnected or numb we get, seasons always change and we eventually remember again.Forgetting isn’t the problem. Staying numb to avoid shame, guilt or grief is.With the cost of living pressures only growing, our mortgages continually increasing and rentals becoming harder and harder to find, our inbuilt need for a safe, secure home is no longer in reach for many of us.For those of us with the luxury of a safe home, we must also navigate the guilt and shame of privilege.Every human is struggling and suffering sometimes. It’s easy to see why we get overwhelmed and want to numb out.But we must remind ourselves that while life is complex, it is not complicated.Our needs are simple. We just lose sight of this in the daily quagmire of input assaulting our senses.We all need touch, warmth, safety and companionship. We need to be outside in nature. We need to remember we belong to each other because staying scared and isolated works for no one. We need to be heard, respected, considered and valued. Firstly and most importantly by ourselves.And if we don’t feel like one of these needs is being met right now, the fastest way I know to have it materialise is to start offering it to another.If it’s touch I need, I can reach out compassionately to a stranger, pat a dog on my walk, or touch a tree, a flower, or lay on the earth and let her hold me.If it’s warmth I need, I can make myself tea or run a bath.If it’s safety I’m yearning for, I must listen to and acknowledge my fears so I can take an action step for each one, ensuring my body knows I’m listening and it can keep trusting me.You get the gist, don’t you?Discover what’s missing and start offering it to yourself or another.Another way of explaining it might be through a simple story. When the girls were little and beginning to learn how to express gratitude, I never wanted to force or shame them into expression to have my needs met. Perceived social expectations cause so much harm.Rather than pushing them to step forward or say thank you, I would be the living, breathing expression of gratitude on their behalf. If they were given a gift, I would get down on their level and sincerely thank the human, expressing how kind, special and appreciated it was. I made sure gratitude and expression were alive in sincere, authentic and palpable ways, but I never pressured the girls to speak or express it.They would often make eye contact, or smile at the human offering the gift, and lean behind me for safety. If a gift came from someone they trusted, sometimes they would express gratitude in their own ways, a hug for someone very safe, a flower, a touch on the arm. They got to choose the safe expression for them.I would always be the middle person if they wanted it, never expecting them to take something directly unless they felt safe enough and wanted to.My job, as the safe grown up, was to make sure gratitude was present. It mattered less who that gratitude came from.What modelling authentic gratitude did over time means my girls are amazing at expressing sincere, safe, authentic gratitude. They didn’t become selfish by not being forced to say an obligatory ‘thank you’. They learnt how to truly feel and express it.They choose when to lean in. They get to listen to their own bodies and make space when it doesn’t feel right. They can choose their response for the benefit of all.Needs have many ways of being met. My need for expressing gratitude did not have to compromise their inner compass.You too can choose how to have your needs met, once you get honest and admit what they are.Homework for this week:Identify just one area of your life where you currently have imbalance, depletion or an unmet need.What is an action step you can take to reassure your body and being that you are listening, prioritising and caring for yourself?It may take a little fermenting, but your pondering efforts and clear actions will be gifts to you and those around you.I also want to make sure that you are aware that if you are not yet a paid subscriber to An Invitation to Trust Substack, this will be the last week you can access my weekly letters. You will also need to be a paid subscriber to access these weekly podcasts. They will not be freely available on platforms outside Substack any longer.This Substack was always set up to be a paid only subscription, and many of you have opted for monthly or annual subscriptions, which I am deeply grateful for.Know that it’s not too late to jump in at the current prices of $8 per month or $80 per year. Please know that starting from 1 May, subscriptions will be $120 per year or $12 per month.Sustainability is crucial for all of us. I too need love and support from my community. Your financial contribution helps me serve others in our worldwide community and offer low cost events like the biannual women’s retreat at Chenrezig Institute.I’ve heard it said that when you give something to a woman, she grows it and turns it into blessings for others. That’s certainly my intention for this life, to take all that I have been given, the shadows, darkness, generosity and goodness, and use them for the benefit of all.I do that primarily through sharing words and creating safe spaces for humans to rest, reconnect and remember how to trust.As always, thanks for travelling alongside me. It’s an honour to share my heart and life with you.Your presence here is a gift to my heart and life and I sincerely treasure it.With love,and sincerity in sustainable service,kmf xops. The link to subscribe at the current rates is below.© Kate M Foster. All rights reserved. An Invitation To Trust™ 2026An Invitation to Trust is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts you will need to sign up and become a paid subscriber.Thanks for reading An Invitation to Trust! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

Dearest brave hearts,What a week it’s been. Not so much one of those roll through the motions, usual juggle variety, more one of those major stretching and heart expansion kinds. In one 24 hour period, I learnt of the loss of a dear human from my childhood, had a friend diagnosed with cancer, and was treated to the most beautiful tea party for my extended birthday in the new Butterfly Garden at Maroochy Botanical Gardens.Life comes all together sometimes, doesn’t it. It’s not a drop by drop, chewable mouthful kind of offering. How often we find ourselves in feast or famine, fire or flood, paddling somewhere in the ever changing tide of life as we do our best to process and draw nourishment from the experiences we are living.When I was young, I believed life would become ‘digestible’ when I grew up. I thought becoming a grown up would mean I had influence over the heartbreaks and tragedies of this life. And it has, but not in the ways I expected.I thought diligence and sincerity would insulate me from more tragedy and unbearable heartache. Hell, sometimes I still want to believe this is possible, but mostly these days I know everything comes together, and the best I can do is befriend the ‘not quite rightness of life’.The finish line that will finally give me permission to rest, experience peace, and carve out spaciousness, I’ve stopped looking for it.Instead, I seek these things breath by little breath. Imperfect moment by imperfect moment. I’m getting better at welcoming life on life’s terms, which in the fine print says, “Ultimately, beyond your best efforts, everything is out of your control, but don’t lose sight that it is also a loving and kind universe.”I’ve left the kitchen messy today so I can write. That’s the imperfect gift of spaciousness. I let myself cry for a few hours through the night over the human I lost this week, and that was the imperfect gift of tenderness. I am welcoming my tiredness today, reassuring myself I can have a nap if I need to, and this is the imperfect gift of kindness and peace. I’m getting so much better at giving myself the gifts that I really need, the ones that truly matter.What gifts have you given yourself this week? I’d love to hear.You know what else today is? It’s our wedding anniversary. The kids laugh and say, “You guys have too many anniversaries,” and maybe we do. But we like celebrating the special things. Our wedding anniversary is important, but no more important than our first kiss, or the first day we climbed a tree together, or…I understand why the kids question us, but I secretly hope that they are infected with celebrating the little things too. Imagine a life where each day was a cause for celebration. A day where we remembered simply being on earth, no matter the heartbreak or challenge, was still a precious gift. This is the life I aspire to. My calendar is filled with countless ‘silly’ celebrations.For example:Pearl made dinner for the first time (hummus and crackers in the bath) 1 April 2012Freya told someone her name for the first time 11 am 10th May 2013Pearl sold her first vacuum (it was a long held dream) 11.25 am 23rd Feb 2026Freya crawled forwards for the first time 10.15 am 11 May 2012Pearl passed her L’s 28th August 2023Freya whistled for the first time in the kitchen at Battery Point 6.30 pm 17th May 2019Pearl’s first published book arrived 25th August 2021Freya’s first night in the cot 26th May 2012Found out we were pregnant with Freya Day 2 Dec 2010Pearl’s first steps to me 30th November 2008The little things are the big things in my world, and I will not seek permission to celebrate.Roberto is definitely one of my greatest celebrations. In most ways, we are entirely different. He likes the heat, I like the cold. He can handle crowds, I think I’m going to die if I get swallowed in humans or concrete or am too far away from nature. I am so sensitive that most days I wonder if I have skin. Meanwhile, he can pick up flaming bits of wood and rearrange a fire with his bare hands.When I get scared, I freeze and shut down. When he gets scared, he rises to action. I like the quiet. He loves to express. I hide when the storms come, he is outside, naked, emptying the sieves on the rainwater tanks. I am a wave, perpetually seeking the safety of his shore, he is an island, who has no choice but to accept the incoming ocean.On paper, it couldn’t work. In real life, it’s asked us both to grow more than we could have ever imagined. We have had to learn each other and our differences so completely so we can find a way to rest together. It’s been beautiful, terrifying, impossible, sacred, and everything else you could imagine. I question everything in life except this man’s capacity to keep showing up, to keep learning, to keep growing, and keep serving others. To keep loving, even when he doesn’t yet know the way.I never could have imagined this life I’m living in, but I find myself infinitely grateful for it every single day.In our marriage vows, in front of a small group of humans, we asked ourselves to commit to these practices. They may not have been an ordinary kind of request on a wedding day, but they have worked for us:We asked ourselves to undertake the practice of:Serving each moment exactly as it is with deep integrity and authenticitySurrendering to presence while using whatever arises in our relationship for the awakening of all beingsReceiving everything in our relationship as teachings inviting us to awaken our hearts and expand our capacity to serve othersRevealing ourselves fully in our relationship, surrendering to complete vulnerability, honesty, and listening without judgmentFeeling and releasing all obstructions to presence, so we may reside in presenceWe have not managed this perfectly, but by geez we’ve done our best every single moment.We also shared these words and intentions on our wedding day:“We offer our commitment of marriage as a gift to the world and ask that our life together be one of joyful service for the benefit of all beings. May our presence be an illumined manifestation of the awakened heart.We dedicate our lives to acknowledging each moment as an invitation to awaken and expand our capacity to embody love and serve others.We undertake the practice of accepting each moment exactly as it is with the deepest compassion, honesty, vulnerability, and authenticity.From this moment forward, we plant these vows of honour and devotion into our daily life. With humility and sincerity, we dedicate our lives to enlightenment for the benefit of all beings so we may all be peaceful, happy, and free from suffering”.In a real life, tangible way, I can report we are still on the field, showing up the best we can, breath by breath, and still growing every single day. We don’t know how long our marriage will last. On our wedding day, we acknowledged that at best, one of us would die and leave the other, and this helps us to focus each day on living love, as time is finite and the end is unknown.I hope we get many more decades to grow, learn, and become the humans this earth needs. I pray we have the courage required to keep our hearts open, soft, and tender, and that we keep learning better ways of disagreeing and realigning our intentions and motivations.Happy anniversary, Mr Foster.Thanks for travelling this ever changing path with me.You are the least annoying human I know xoxoAnd thank you too, kind human, for being such a special part of our community and lives. Without you here, I’d have no one to share these ramblings with. Bless your brave and willing heart.Wishing you soft tea parties and beloved friends when the heartbreaks arrive, and relationships that keep evolving and blossoming year after year.With love from my sensitive, courageous heart to yours,kmf xo© Kate M Foster. All rights reserved. An Invitation To Trust™ This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

Hello beautiful people,I’m going to get a Moodle for my 70th birthday. I’ve always dreamt of having a soft, little, fluffy caramel lap dog. The kind that would have had me beaten up in the bush where I grew up, because they weren’t a real dog (which meant a working dog). In the bush, you must be useful to be fed, otherwise you’re a waste of space and food.Tough but true for that space and time.I’ve had a long way to recover to become the woman I am today. A woman who, year by year, has ushered herself into the freedom to enjoy more useless (but heart-nourishing) things. A woman who keeps finding new ways to offer herself permission to be real, honest, and true to her own poetry-loving heart.I figure I can have a Moodle at 70, as I plan on living until I’m 88, so with the best of intentions coming together, I’ll die after the Moodle. While I’m a long way from the bush I grew up in, I’m still responsible and practical.I couldn’t intentionally leave a dog without its safe space and carer. Following through is in my blood. That’s why not being able to write to you yesterday was hard. You might not have noticed my usual Sunday letter did not arrive, but I wrestled with it all day… Facing the reality that life’s circumstances simply didn’t allow me the luxury of sitting to write was hard. I felt a huge responsibility to keep my word. I knew I was letting you down by not being able to explain, but I was also learning to be real and tender with myself in amongst this hard, because despite our best intentions, life simply does not always come together.I won’t burden you with the reasons why I couldn’t write. We all have hard things we juggle. I just really wanted you to know I stayed kind to myself in my failure to deliver. And that’s the real win, for all of us. When caught in the wrestle, I didn’t abandon myself for the comfort of shame and guilt. I stayed soft, real, and open. That’s my true homework in these impossible times… endeavouring to keep my heart open when countless other choices are on offer.Finding ways to rest in the wrestle is the task every human on earth is facing. If WE truly value peace, and WE want to be a part of creating it on earth, then WE must begin in our own hearts and heads.Things are wildly messy and hard. Humans are more stretched than I’ve ever seen in my lifetime. Yet alongside the brutality, if you look, kindness is flourishing too.In the past 24 hours in our community, I’ve heard real-life stories of two people having their fuel anonymously paid for. One woman having her coffee paid for by the previous customer. My daughter’s boss buying the weekly family groceries for his worker after hearing their young son was just diagnosed with leukaemia. Even my own daughter offering to give up her longed-for work shifts so they could be offered to the dad of this family.Yes, the world is heartbreaking, but it is also full of kindness.Don’t forget to look for it, welcome it, and play your part in extending KINDNESS & GENEROSITY to others.Homework this week:Find a way to extend grace to yourself for something you simply can’t do or fulfil.Find a way to extend kindness and generosity to another.WE are all in this together. And the more we remember this “WE,” the kinder Earth becomes.With love, trust, and kindness,kmf xo© Kate M Foster. All rights reserved. An Invitation To Trust™Thanks for listening to An Invitation to Trust! An Invitation to Trust is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

Dearest brave hearts,Well done for surviving another week on earth. Keeping my heart soft and open this week has felt like a full time job, there are so many invitations on offer in this current time of global chaos that it’s quite the challenge to not let the heaviness and fear congeal or insulate my sensitive heart.This is my forever task, tending myself and the world with tenderness and clarity, being truthful with myself and my capacities in this rich and at times messy dance of life on earth.I have been doing my best to balance my extra worldly work with prepping for the Women’s Retreat next weekend, I am not always managing to keep the balance, and it’s also the tired end of the school term for the family, so it’s gratitude alongside imperfection as we all keep offering our changing messy best moment by moment.On my book stack on my bedside table sits Francis Weller’s new book, I have been dipping in and out, forever grateful for this kind teacher and his offerings to our world. His life has been devoted to remembering the sacred gifts of grief, and he does this by inviting each of us to embark on an apprenticeship with sorrow. If you are yet to read his book, The Wild Edge of Sorrow, I encourage you to buy a physical hard copy and keep it close for the rest of your life. It is truly one of those books you will revisit many times over, each time harvesting new wisdom, support and insight.Accepting his apprenticeship and training with Francis has offered so many gifts that I continue to share every day of my life. One of those has been really refining my offering for this lifetime, which is growing ever more distilled. My invitation, alongside an invitation to trust, is to embark on an apprenticeship with eldership. It is what I called myself to for many decades before sharing this invitation with others.The work of a lifetime is to become the grownups we needed, and if you’ve ever hung out with me or attended any of my workshops, Retreats or offerings, I would have invited you to this too.Right now on this earth we need safe, whole, mature grown ups more than ever. When immature, unhealed humans take positions of power we end up in collective trouble, fast. But I am not here to speak about this today, while the upcoming Retreat has been booked out for over a month, there are still some places in the July Workshop and August Retreat, and you are welcome to join me then if you are truly ready to deepen into this apprenticeship with eldership.Today I want to share with you some of Francis’s teachings. He has devoted his life to his own healing and consolidating his teachings on this apprenticeship with sorrow. I urge you to become familiar with the 5 gates of grief he teaches on, because if we are going to become the grownups this world needs, we must become masterful at welcoming and tending grief, and trusting the unending heartbreaks of the world.Unless you are hiding under a rock, there is more grief to feel than ever before. We cannot survive this heartbreak in isolation, we must create and stay connected to safe, warm and mature communities so we can help each other remember we are capable of facing this. Loss is simply a part of a healthy adult life. We must accept the invitation being offered to keep growing up and defrosting that which has become frozen and disconnected in ourselves so we can offer this wholeness to our families, communities and the world.Here is a brief summary on ‘The Five Gates of Grief’ as taught by Francis Weller:Gate 1: Everything we love, we will lose.Quite simply it is the sorrow we experience with the loss of someone or something we love. This is the only gate that receives any attention or acknowledgement in our modern western culture.Gate 2: The places that have not known love.This gate speaks to all those places within our beings that have not yet known love and what we must face and defrost to heal.Gate 3: The sorrows of the world.We could begin by acknowledging the immense losses of habitat destruction, species extinction and loss of connection to our traditional indigenous homelands… This grief is so vast that we quite simply cannot face it alone, we need a community to help hold this vast, infinite and constantly expanding grief…Gate 4: What we expected and did not receive.While not always easy to see, this includes the connections, rites, rituals, communities and belonging that are our birthright, but not so easy to access in this modern world. We were born knowing in our bones that we are here to be loved, held, adored and a part of an intricate web of humanity, but this web is so often interrupted by trauma and loss leaving us isolated and confused… Quite literally searching the eyes of the grownups we encounter hoping to be seen, acknowledged, loved.Gate 5: Ancestral grief.This is the grief and sorrow we carry in our bodies from those who came before us. While it is not our fault, it is our responsibility to heal. Family Constellations has been my road map for finding my way to make sacred this gate of grief and all that must be welcomed to remember our wholeness.If we are paying attention, grief and sorrow will touch each of us every single day of our lives on earth. If you are serious about being a force of goodness in this world, I sincerely encourage you to begin consciously learning from teachers like Francis so you can clear the backlog of grief in your own life that keeps you from truly living, loving and experiencing joy.Healing isn’t accidental, and befriending and tending our grief isn’t either. It requires diligent devotion, willingness and courage.Those who seek from a mature grown up place will find the healing they are longing for, but we must be flexible in knowing healing often looks different than we first thought.Wishing you courage to stay soft, open hearted and face the grief and joy of this wild and beautiful world. (Yes, your capacity to face grief is in direct proportion to your capacity to experience joy, inconvenient at times, but true)!With vast love from my ever growing and healing heart,kmf xo© Kate M Foster. All rights reserved. An Invitation To Trust™An Invitation to Trust is a reader-supported publication, please become a paid subscriber.Thanks for listening to An Invitation to Trust! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

Dearest brave hearts,It’s raining here, nourishing, constant rain. The earth is happy and the birds are quiet. Wherever you are in the world I hope you are enjoying similar beautiful weather and can find a pocket of time to breathe easy while we share some moments together for our shared Sunday Ritual. Daisy Rose Possum (our queenly cat) keeps asserting her right to sit on my keyboard, I am her greatest disruption and inconvenience as I keep wriggling to type.March is often a month where my usual slow Sunday rhythm gets rearranged a little. I am writing to you later today as we had beautiful visitors stay last night (Roberto’s niece and her fiancé), so our morning was one of chai’s and chats. Deep dives into dreams. Weaving our way around all that our hearts are longing for and creating in these ever changing chapters of life.When they departed we then drove through even heavier rain up the mountain to Chenrezig Institute for the Sunday teachings. Arriving late is never ideal but somehow this meant that we had the chance to meet my beloved friend’s family who are visiting from Europe. These beautiful humans were meant to be back on the other side of the world by now, but with the world in turmoil, airports closing and international flights on hold in many places, sharing a meal together was an unexpected delight.Even when a common language is lacking, it always amazes me just how much we can share of our hearts and feelings. Translations bouncing back and forward so we could all have a shared window into some moments, with the few that knew multiple languages binding us closer together. Plus, when all is said and done a sincere hug can translate much of what the heart feels that language could never convey in 100 years.This week has reminded each of us how little control we have over what unfolds in the wider world. Precious lives lost and expanding threats of war, although a long way from our shores here in Australia, reminds us that uncertainty, impermanence and change are still our reality. This daily erosion of what we assume to be stable is also inviting us deeper into our peace practices and our ever evolving relationship with trust.Yes, uncertainty disrupts us, but it also brings gifts. Changes to our plans can also bring people together, to share, pray, practice and support each other. To share a meal or a song. A tear or a smile. A ripening of mature community and connection weaving us back to a place where we remember we are all share much more in common than we do differences.Change, challenges, cancellations, new unexpected plans arriving and altering our days reminds us that as humans, we rely on the kindness of each other to survive. Sharing this kindness and generosity with each other may well be the most important part of life on earth.We need each other in the good times and the bad. The heartbreak and the celebration. And sometimes we all get so busy we forget this. Disruptions may disrupt, but they help us remember what really matters.I think it’s one of the reasons we plan trips and travel. Travel is consciously choosing to disrupt our days. When life as we know it changes, and we are in a new place with new humans, hearing a different language, eating new foods and witnessing a new culture, we get to reimagine who we are and how we show up in our lives too.Rather than slipping into auto pilot, and going unconscious to all the beauty and wonder that exists, travel asks us to stay awake and alert to what is in front of us. To truly see. To listen. To stay open. And we get hooked…I reckon the real gift of travel is that it deepens our practice of staying present. Travel is a mindfulness practice of meeting each moment with an open heart and mind. A meditation of sorts. A portal to presence and an intention of being willing to see, to hear, to experience each moment anew.Imagine if we could keep growing ourselves up enough to remember that when we get home from the holiday, we can continue this practice of being awake and present to our moments. That we can choose to travel every day of our lives, truly witnessing and delighting in what is already directly in front of us. Sowing seeds and harvesting gifts as the abundant beings we truly are.Homework this week: No matter where you are today, may you find the courage to greet uncertainty with kindness, bravely adventuring through your breaths like you were on holidays in a far off land.Maybe you can set an intention to truly see the beauty that already exists in your own everyday life, to find delight and wonder while welcoming all that remains uncertain.As one of my teachers shares, we must practice holding gratitude in one hand and grief in the other, this is the true work of growing up. As wise adults we can hold many opposing things at once.And may we each be the kind of humans that strangers can approach and ask for directions when they are lost. May we keep our hearts safe, soft and sheltered, offering what support and reassurance we can to help our kindred human beings find their way.With much love from my travelling heart to yours,kmf xops My next Women’s Retreat is now booked out. If you are planing on joining the one day Family Constellation Healing Workshop I am offering with Roberto in July or the August Women’s Retreat at Chenrezig Institute please remember to get your tickets early. xoI hope to share more moments with you soon.© Kate M Foster. All rights reserved. An Invitation To Trust™Thanks for listening to An Invitation to Trust the PODCAST! This post is public so feel free to share it.An Invitation to Trust is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, please consider becoming a paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

Dearest Brave Heart,Kindness, I’m always yapping on about it. Particularly the kind that we steadily, over time, learn to apply to ourselves. Not because we are perfect, or life goes to plan, but because even in the hardest of circumstances we still deserve to be held in loving kindness and care. And the most capable person on the planet of giving that particular flavour of care to us is the human who has been with us since our first breath, and will remain until our last.It’s my “not so secret, secret”. And I’ve been offering this insight freely for decades.It’s not shiny, expensive, or hard to find.It lives in every breath, every beat of your heart, every touch of your hand, whether you remember to acknowledge it or not.Kindness is what you are.The word kindness takes its root from the word “Kin” or “Kindred”. Think “Human Kind”. It isn’t fancy or complicated. It simply acknowledges that we are kindred. We are all the same. We are kin. You are me. I am you. Together we are kindred. And treating each other and ourselves with loving care is as natural to us as breathing.It takes consistent and sustained effort to deviate from knowing you are a kindred being on this earth. Every breath reminds and connects us to all other life. A kind drumbeat that continuously brings us home.We need some pretty big interruptions in life to override our basic human nature. We must get very, very afraid. And in that huge fear, if we become extremely isolated, and we believe our very survival is threatened, we forget we are kin and start competing. Assuming life can be won or lost.We compete because we incorrectly believe there are limited resources. But the truth is there are more resources than we could ever need. More food than can be eaten. More music than we could ever listen to in 10 lifetimes. More books than could be read in 300 years straight. And more money than is fathomable or could ever make sense. It’s the distribution of these resources that is the challenge.But with power wrestled down to only a few, and many of those leaders terribly afraid, traumatised and lost children trapped in grownups’ bodies, westerners live in a hunger and poverty that can’t seem to be satiated.We are desperately hungry for love, for kindness, for presence and for belonging, but as a collective we are so hooked in scarcity, so lacking in spaciousness to rest and remember the truth of things, that most of us are running in the opposite direction of everything we truly long for.Loving kindness. It’s a salve for hearts, minds and bodies the world over.Yet the majority of us incorrectly believe what we are seeking is in short supply.We are all hunting most of our waking hours for this resource. Each of us making our assumptions of how and where it can be found, attempting to find substitutes for loving kindness and belonging in many different clothes, because we quite literally cannot survive life on earth without them.We are blind to abundance, an ancestral burden that did not start with us, but is most definitely our task to heal.We search with our eyes closed for lifetimes, hoping it will be found in careers, purpose, money, sex, love, insert anything really, all the while wondering why we can’t see.We feel lost. Alone. Isolated.But how do feel this in a world where every single atom is entangled together?Just like the turtles who know how to find their way back to the shore they were born upon to lay their eggs, we have only temporarily forgotten that home is that safe, warm, present, kind and loving feeling that has been inside us all along.We got busy looking for things and stuff we thought we needed to matter, and forgot all we had to do was open our eyes all along.We all want safety and loving kindness, yet we accidentally and inadvertently harm ourselves and others.The further we get from remembering we are kindred and connected, the further we roam from our true nature, and the more we harm. The more delusional we become. The more we forget we belong to each other and that we are naturally and innately KIND, generous and loving beings.We all experienced interruptions in the love we were offered growing up. In their attempts to care for us, the grown ups we were surrounded by were also navigating their own trauma and blindness. These interruptions were not our fault, nor are they an excuse for treating ourselves or others poorly.These interruptions were real, they were the spaces where loving kindness couldn’t land, and they are now our responsibility to tend and heal. These wounds are the beginning of us learning true compassion, for ourselves, for others and maybe, eventually, even those who have perpetrated against us?In my garden sometimes I will plant a whole packet of seeds in a row. It’s curious to see that sometimes that line is interrupted. The seeds do not sprout. Maybe they were eaten by birds or animals? Maybe they rotted with too much water or too rich fertiliser? It’s possible some seeds simply were not viable, possibly missing some of the DNA required to spring to life.I rarely know the reason why they could not grow, but I do have a choice of what to do with those interruptions. Most commonly, I plant flowers in the holes. Edible flowers, that are good companions for whatever food I am growing. Those flowers in time bring not only beauty, but pollinator friends and much abundance for many other beings too.Tending interruptions isn’t light work. It’s not all easy. It is definitely easier with a loving safe community. And it is a task that is never done.The kindest people I know had more interruptions than most. By interruptions I mean things like abuse, violence, tragedies, a lack of safety or resources like food, shelter, clothing, caring grownups or safe homes.I am not here to explain the workings of why we suffer, I simply know on earth, at times, everyone does. Hard things happen to everyone, no one escapes them. Winter comes.And rather than wrestle and argue with everything, I have an inner practice that asks me to keep learning to rest in the wrestle. To find new ways to hold and tend my own fragile heart. To keep developing and strengthening boundaries to create a healthy safe life, but even more importantly to notice in real time when I harden and become guarded. I have a vow to tend my own being, and others too, with vast and infinite tender grace.I’ll never be done. I’m no longer looking for a finish line. I’m just thankful that I’m still here. I will choose over and over again, for as many breaths as I have, to keep devoting myself to meeting my moments with as much presence, love, kindness and care that I can muster. And when i’m tired, I will retreat and rest.We are all in this together. We are human kind. We are kindred. We all make the same mistakes. We all have the same frailties. We may feel closer to some and repelled by others. Yet no matter what our flavour is, even if our hearts are chocolate, there will be humans on earth who will never come to like us in this life.And that’s ok. Maybe next life chocolate is their thing?Homework:Just for this breath, what true loving kindness can you offer yourself right now? It might be a deeper inhale. A glass of water. A glance at the sunshine through the trees out your window. Or a vow to learn a new way to move with loving kindness for yourself.For the next decade, please devote yourself to treating YOU like you do your dearest friends. And pretty please, in ten years, report back to me with your findings.With love from one kindred heart to another,kmf xoP.S. Yesterday Rob and I offered our first of 2 full day Family Constellation Workshops for the year. There is only 1 remaining now. It is on the 25th July at Chenrezig Institute. If you are serious about true healing and change for this planet of ours, you are very welcome to join us.You can save your spot here Last Workshop 2026© Kate M Foster. All rights reserved. An Invitation To Trust™An Invitation to Trust Self Love and Self Care OracleThanks for reading An Invitation to Trust! An Invitation to Trust is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

Dearest brave hearts,I wonder how your week has been? Mine has been full of sacred ordinary things. Some busy moments of work and responsibilities but also lots of intentional sacred pauses to appreciate this precious life in between the movement.In the west we are bred to look for the big things in life, to plan, to create, to achieve. And while these things do bring some celebration and joy, my greatest joys are found in the tiny sacred ordinary. The thousand seemingly ordinary Sundays I spend tending my home and family life that fulfils in ways no grand accomplishment ever has. But we aren’t taught to appreciate this. Thankfully we can learn and remember.Usually I write to you from my bed, but today I am typing from my letter writing desk in the corner of my bedroom. I didn’t realise until I took a photo to share with you how surrounded I am by the women I look up to, both those ancestors who came before me, and those I have gathered in this life. Photos, gifts, memories, creations. Evidence of lives well lived and loved. If you zoom in you will even see the very first dollar I ever earnt for sweeping the floor of our dear friends corner store (its an old school paper one!).I was 4! Even though I wanted to buy chocolate, I saved that dollar. Decades later I innocently gave it away in an attempt to pay a debt that wasn’t even real. Another decade after this, after finally making peace with giving it away, by some miracle, that exact dollar returned to me. In the same card I had written in when i gave it! It reminds me I have always been rich :) and trusting the richness is still my best option!At a Retreat I was running last year one of the women told me I was like a Bower Bird, but instead of collecting shiny things, I seemed to collect beautiful shiny women of heart, and I have to agree. I am so very thankful for the precious women in my world.My ponderings this week are vast and varied… no doubt yours were too.This morning I have been considering exactly how many Sundays I may have left if I make it to my goal of 88 years. For those of you interested it is approximately 2132. So that means at best, if I manage to survive all that is still to come, I could only write to you a few thousand more times.I have already surpassed the halfway point of my 44th year, so dreams coming true, I only have 40 summers left.It helps me to remember this. It reminds me to practice resting in my moments, even if there is still lots to accomplish and complete, and to soak in the beauty, even if it’s not necessarily pretty.One of my practices for this is my lounge cushions. I love visual order. Beauty creates harmony for me, but I live with 3 other humans who have a totally unique view of what order means and how to have their precious needs met. Family and community life gives each of us a beautiful opportunity to learn how to both welcome and also care for such diverse and at times competing needs.We all must know when to yield. When to stretch. When to take a deep breath and put the needs of others first, and the times it is crucial to speak up and have our needs heard and cared for. Does it always go to plan? Hell no… But that is why it’s called a practice. We don’t have to get it perfect, we just need to keep practicing.Imperfect, at times messy, yet breathtakingly beautiful. That’s family life, isn’t it?A slow learner at best, I can report that steadily I’m learning to let the cushions be messy during the day, and then before I go to bed, I straighten them up. Harmony is restored, (insert angels singing).In this moment I pause, take a deep breath in and remind myself how grateful I am that our home is still full of children. No doubt there will come a day the cushions stay put… or maybe not, who knows. It is certainly a problem for another day. For now, the cushions are straight at least once a day and I this helps me sleep easier :)Outside of my home my weekly highlights often come from unplanned moments with strangers. At work this week I had 2 conversations with humans who made the highlight list. One, a revealing conversation with a beautiful young woman in her 20’s who had been warned by the older women in their 40’s+ that she works with, about ageing. About how it all apparently goes downhill. That these are the best years of her life. That she better enjoy now as the future is worse. And I listen… but also begged to differ.I can honestly say this is my favourite age yet. It hasn’t been all easy, but no decade is. Each decade of my life has offered tragedies and triumphs, blessings and burdens, but the older I get, the more steady my inner guidance is, the more clear my inner and outer voice. The stronger my sense of trust in myself and others. The vaster I feel love, the more solace I can find in heartbreak.Yes there have been body challenges, and no doubt these will only grow. Bodies have to wear out eventually. But as for my inner world, it’s golden. I can’t wait to turn 50. I have a real sense of purpose brewing, and the liberty that I see arise in women older than me when they are finished raising babies inspires me.I have no doubt the best is yet to come. I don’t know how long earth will need me. I’m clear in my intention of 88 years, but the final date is none of my business. What is my business is how present I can be with my moments. How honestly I can show up. How fully I can breathe each breath, and how willing I am to trust the seasons that have been and are still to come.My garden is a constant reminder of this. I love it. And right now it is a s**t show. Literally. Summer in Oz is brutal. My ancestors needed summer to survive. This was their greatest growing season. My friends across the ocean still live this. Winter shuts them down, often under snow and ice. But here, contrary to what my bones know, summer is mostly death. The extreme heat annihilates most things, and what does survive the heat, then needs to live through the pests, including the locust plague of the past 2 months, and disease from humidity and rain. It’s futile. It never works well. And this 47th summer is the first I simply let my gardens go. I did try to keep the water up to it in November, but by December the dam we used to water the gardens had run dry.With scarce rain water remaining, this precious life sustaining water simply could not go to the gardens that were about to be roasted by heat and pests. So I surrendered. As hard as it was, they were left to survive on their own. I retreated into the air-conditioning. Some rain came, thousands upon thousands of pests came. And all that remains living in my very loved veggie garden, beyond the established native and fruit trees whose roots go deep enough to nourish them through the intensity of seasons, are some woody basil, chives, alyssum, Italian parsley and marigolds.Around the pool a few daisies have prevailed, salvia, sage, thyme, lavender and the rogue pumpkin and rockmelons I planted with such hope in spring, which have since taken over so much of the permaculture area I’m too scared to enter because of snakes and heat to even brave seeing if they are producing.It’s messy. It’s not pretty. It’s not productive on the surface. It has nothing to show other than some scant remnants of survival that is stressed and frayed at the seams.On top of the desolation, in the past few weeks that darling husband of mine has piled load upon load of poo. Literally 20 cm of horse poo from a neighbour down the road. So now it’s death, decay and piles of s**t everywhere.And this is the season of garden life I am living. It’s real, it’s unapologetically honest. There is no arguing with the weather or the reality of what IS. One must simply tell the truth, trust the season, and rely on the wisdom that in the past summer has always ended. This practice of trusting the seasons must sustain me. Summer always takes longer than I want to end. So here we are, again.Soon, in another month or two, the heat will drop. Nights will cool. Possibility for new beginnings will return.I will plant again. Sowing, raising seeds, tending, fertilising, weeding, loving and eventually I will have flowers and produce to share with my community once again.This is why I love gardening. It’s real. It’s honest. It reminds me that no matter how hard I work or prepare, life is still out of my control and my peace depends on working with what IS, not some story of how I want it to be.This is how gardening became such a dear and loyal friend to my heart. It told me the truth. The things I love most do that, and I do my best to offer that to the world too.I’m off now to brave the heat to cut the rose back at our entry gate. The rain last week has made it sprout long climbing tendrils in hope of more rain to come. But these tendrils are not growing up the rail or arch, they are spiking straight out at ankle height across the entry. I’ve left it all week, walking back and forth. Wisdom tells me if I don’t cut it back today someone will get hurt, so to prevent future guilt and shame for ignoring my gut, I will cut, compost and then have a brief swim before my lily white skin turns beetroot.Take care beautiful people. Thanks for gathering here for our little weekly ritual and travelling alongside me. I hope you can come say hi at one of our 2 workshops or retreats this year. And as always, you can write back to me and I will respond, just know it might take a week or two.Hugs from my heart and desolate garden to yours,kmf xops. Homework Invitation:Find a daily practice that anchors you in what matters most. Make is simple. Something that you can even complete in 1 minute or less. For me it’s this little journal. Every night as I crawl into bed I can fit approximately 3 sentences in and it is such a nourishing supportive way to stay connected to gratitude for my life. What is a pause that will support you?© Kate M Foster. All rights reserved. An Invitation To Trust™ This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

Dearest brave hearts,A soft, drizzly rain is falling outside my window and I can hear the dry leaves brushing against one another as a gentle breeze moves through the tall gums nearby. These trees have been stressed for weeks, dropping their leaves out of necessity so they can survive the heat of a dry summer. They adapt and respond to the conditions. Letting go ensures they can continue to nourish what remains. Nature may appear harsh, but it is always honest.Usually by now the wet season has well and truly arrived. We have all had to work a little harder this year, enduring the uncertainty of when the long awaited moisture would finally fall from the sky.The weather, and nature in general, continually reminds me that we are bound by elements, forces and uncertainties beyond our control. Feast and famine. Drought and flood. Somewhere in between. Life almost never runs on my preferred timetable, and how I meet that reality in my own mind dictates almost everything about how much I suffer, and how much peace I get to live with too.Each week when I sit down to write to you, I wonder what I could offer that might make your life a little easier. What could I possibly say in this wildly heartbreaking, unpredictable and beautiful world?I often ponder who I am to offer anything resembling wisdom when each day I am simply showing up the best I can, tending my own life, responsibilities, family, work and community with a heart that is sometimes broken, often overwhelmed and occasionally very tired.As I exhale into this Sunday writing ritual and pause to reflect on the week that has unfolded, I look for harvest. What can I gather from the days I have lived that might offer some solace or salve to fellow humans who, just like me, are often tired, afraid and unsure where this whole adventure is leading?I land back in this simple remembering. I am not writing because I have something you do not. I am writing so we can remember that we are in this together. It is all right if none of us have the answers right now, or maybe ever. What matters is that we keep pausing to reflect and to live the questions that keep our hearts and minds open. We only need to glance at the news to see what guarded and frightened hearts can inflict on others.Our task is simply to stay human. To keep risking softness. To remain open, even when heartbroken. To choose kindness.This is why we gather here.The kindest and most compassionate humans I have met did not arrive there because life went smoothly. They arrived there by choice. Choosing compassion and boundaries when things fell apart. Offering a clear yes and a clear no when it would have been easier to stay silent. Keeping their eyes and ears open when shutting down would have felt safer.Some grew their compassion by finding their voice and speaking up. Others by resting in silence and praying for wisdom to respond differently.None of them became compassionate by getting everything right. We land in compassion by making mistakes again and again, and then choosing the courageous path of tending our own shortcomings so we can learn to accept them in others. It is in acknowledging the wound and refusing to turn away from it that compassion grows. The process is the same whether we are looking at our own hearts or at the world.Compassion does not arise from perfection. It arises from frailty, followed by a sincere resolve to know better, do better and align our choices for the benefit of all.Compassionate action calls for truth. For honesty. For wholeness. Compassion is being real. You cannot fake it. It’s a broadcast. You transmit it. Beyond words it carries a quiet message of “me too”.You lost your patience and yelled at your child. Me too.You made a mistake at work and it affected others. Me too.You felt overwhelmed by the state of the world and then took it out on the person you love most because they are the safest place you know. Me too.You struggle to care for everyone else and leave yourself off the list sometimes. Me too.Your heart is broken right now. Me too.Compassion is not complicated. It is a simple and sincere “me too”.But how do we grow our capacity for compassion in a world that feels as though it breaks a little every day?The hardest person I have ever had to extend compassion to, to repair trust with and to rebuild a loving relationship with, is myself.It was hard to find compassion for my abuser. Harder still to forgive those who did not keep me safe as a child. But harder again to find compassion for my own compliance, silence and fear.I have been walking this road for as long as I can remember. In the early years of healing, my sense of failure seemed to grow rather than shrink. The more sincerely I tended my wounds, the more I uncovered all that still ached. For a long time I believed peace would only arrive once the clean up was complete.But with the weight of ancestral grief and trauma in my lineage, and the ways it continued to express itself in the lives of family still here, it became clear that if peace depended on resolution, I might be waiting forever. Perhaps we all would. So I began to ask a different question. Could peace and pain exist together?For all that remained unresolved in me, my teachers continued to remind me that peace was possible now. Not later. Not once everything was fixed. Now.I did not have to keep waiting and hoping that the love and compassion I longed for would finally ripple down from those who came before me. I began to live as though perhaps I was the one my family system had been waiting for. Perhaps my willingness to welcome peace into my moments, even with pain still present, was enough for all of us for now.It might sound insane that someone might deny herself peace, love or connection simply because no one in her lineage seemed to have them. Yet the need to belong runs deep.Our bones know from thousands of years of evolution, that if we are cast out, not accepted, and no longer belong, we will most likely die.Belonging meant survival. As children we unconsciously made agreements to ensure we would not be cast out. We silently promised, “Just like you, I will carry this too, so I can belong.”And for a while it works. We are loved enough. We survive. We grow. And if we are fortunate, we eventually step into the wider world and begin questioning the beliefs and agreements we absorbed.This is where our work truly begins.After decades invested in this ongoing process, I can say it has led me to a practice of meeting myself with honest compassion. Not because I am a master, but because I am deeply aware of my own frailties and tender places, and I no longer expect anyone else to tend them better than I can. Others help. Their love matters. But the greater share is mine.As an adult I can admit that while it would have been convenient to sit on the sidelines of my life while someone else loved my broken parts back into wholeness, that is not how it works. Real healing has required me to meet myself in the darkness and the mess. Any attempt to outsource that task has never led to lasting change.At times the work felt so overwhelming that I needed someone to hold my hand. We all need companionship. It gives us courage. But the essential ingredient has always been honesty. How truthful could I be with myself, even when it hurt?We are frail, sensitive human beings who will keep making mistakes and, at times, hurting one another. And we are also miraculous, love filled beings on a miraculous adventure that will end whether we are ready or not.HomeworkJust for today, or perhaps for this week, could we risk learning a new way of speaking to ourselves? Could we be honest enough to notice when we are not treating ourselves with compassion, so that we might choose differently?Speaking kindly to myself out loud, so even my own ears can hear, has been a powerful practice in my life. If it feels strange, begin in the car or the shower. Start where you feel safe.When I was young, I did not know loving kindness was a choice. I watched the women in my lineage practise what they called kindness. Sometimes it was genuine. Often it was also a survival strategy. Compliance, silence, hypervigilance and minimising harm were wrapped in the label of kindness. They met immediate needs, but they were not sustainable expressions of true compassion.True kindness is a shared responsibility. It is not one person’s task to fill every gap in a world of endless need. As we grow ourselves up, we must continue exploring what authentic compassion looks like now. How can we express it honestly? How can we let it begin with us?What if it were possible to show vast care for our own tender frailties? What if that self compassion became a quiet broadcast that overflowed naturally wherever we went?It might ease some of the pressure we place on ourselves to constantly do more.May we all become natural springs of compassion, for ourselves and for others, quietly offering goodness wherever we roam.Have a gentle and restful week, dear humans.I will be thinking of you.Love from my heart,kmf xo© Kate M Foster. All rights reserved. An Invitation To Trust™ ps. If you would like to explore healing in your family system or ancestral lineage Roberto and I have a workshop coming up in a few weeks (Saturday 28th February at Chenrezig Institute). Tickets are available online below.Workshop Tickets HerePlease share this letter with anyone who may benefit xoThanks for reading An Invitation to Trust! An Invitation to Trust is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

Dearest brave humans,I am sharing this recording with you today in Lieu of being here, I have taken a weekend off to share with my precious second born. Thank you for the grace in allowing me this time with her. Creating, forging and carving out quality time with my children remains one of my greatest devotions, and in this modern fast paced world not always an easy feat. Wishing you moments with you precious people too.Love from my heart,kmf xo© Kate M Foster. All rights reserved. An Invitation To Trust™ ps, I’ll be back next week! Looking forward to connecting then. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

Dearest brave heart,Thank you for being here with me in this moment. In a world as noisy and demanding as ours, your presence is a gift.So much competes for our attention, more than ever before, yet the beauty of this earth and the humans upon it is still as palpable and present as it has ever been. We just need to train ourselves to come back to what is quiet and true, rather than what is noisy and demanding, breath by breath.I found myself sharing with Roberto a few days ago that with the ruptures and shifts happening globally right now, I am needing more quiet, prayerful meditation time. I noticed myself gathering 30, 60, or 90 extra seconds here and there. Not when life settles and offers them, but when I am at traffic lights, in a waiting room, or even when I go to the bathroom. Just a few extra breaths of peace to tuck away in my peace bank, to draw upon when needed.Meeting here each week is one powerful way of living a ritual together. We commit to shared intentional moments, and as we repeat that ritual, we discover that our bones experience solace, connection, safety and trust.We need rituals. It is how we have always belonged to each other. Remembering to infuse our day to day life with small rituals is how we continue to create meaning and live contented, purposeful, loving, and compassionate lives.Rituals need not be fancy. It may be as simple as connecting here on Sundays with our substack, choosing your favourite cup for tea, or planting sweet pea seeds on Saint Patrick’s Day each year. As co creators of our destiny, we get to choose how we greet each moment and therefore how we sculpt the lived experience of our lives.Creating reality is not some grand, humongous thing we do once, but rather the culmination of many tiny choices, hour by hour, season by season, breath by breath, as we live our way toward our final moments on earth.After my family responsibilities had run their course this morning, braiding hair, work preparations, compassionate listening, offering reassurance, you know how it goes, I was able to return to my bed, the safest place for me on earth. Those of you with younger children will not yet know this becomes a possibility again, but I promise you that in time you will get more space to breathe easy and begin your wondering and pondering in new ways once more.My deliberations this morning were about beauty, and how life sustaining and crucial it is for me to intentionally cultivate this in my day to day life. Not for show. Not for others. But simply to bring harmony into my own being (and therefore the world).Creating beauty is a gift passed down through my maternal line. Not because these women were abundant, well resourced, or privileged, but because of the very real and survival based trauma, violence, and hardships they faced in day to day life.The women who came before me knew that to survive in the face of extreme challenge, planting seeds, finding a flower and bringing it indoors, arranging your environment to reflect the beauty that exists alongside the challenge, offering and sharing what little food they had with others, made life a little easier for everyone.When my mother took me home from hospital, we lived with my Nan and Grandpa. She was 17 when I was born. I will forever be thankful she gave me this life. When I was young, I never knew that my family was poor. I did not know basics like food and clothing had been hard for them. I did not know we lived in a housing commission house or that this meant anything bad to some people in the community.I knew I was loved. That Nan and Grandpa were safe, solid, and reliable. That my mum loved me and that she was fun. That I had lots of aunts and uncles I adored who were always in and out of the house.We had pets, a dog named Armstrong, a cat called Tiny, and a budgie that I begged my mum for (and that she accidentally let fly free from the cage). I remember her not wanting to get it. She told me birds were not meant to live in cages, but I did not yet understand what this meant. All I wanted was to be close to one of these magical flying creatures.I would take his cage outside to the tank stand so he could be in the sunshine and fresh air. I did not want him to be sad living with us. I imagined his family could still visit him outside. I am not sure how many weeks passed before my mum held his little door open just a bit too long and he flew off into the willow tree down the back. But like me, he found his freedom too.Helping Nan in the garden is part of my earliest memories. She loved geraniums, cannas, cosmos, and other flowers I cannot remember the names of anymore. Being immersed in this abundance for the first four years of my life led me to know I was rich, and you could not have convinced me otherwise.As a grown up, I can tell you that Nan kept her home beautiful on the inside to help her navigate the chaos and trauma of her inner world. I cannot find anything wrong with this. Beauty helped her face impossible things. It can do the same for all of us.Searching for and creating beauty, along with choosing to see beauty in unlikely places, are gifts each of us can bring to this world. They make a huge difference, not just to ourselves, but to everyone we come into connection with. Even those we may never meet can be impacted by entering environments or accessing creations we have made. I think of my book and oracle decks and the gifts they are.Beauty makes hard things bearable. This is why we bring flowers when people die or when tragedies happen. We know we cannot change what is, but we can offer beauty alongside it.I think of all the women in Ukraine and other war torn countries, like America right now, still planting seeds in their gardens. They do not plant because peace exists. They plant to help grow peace. They know that by bringing beauty, they change the world. To me, planting seeds, whether in hearts, minds, or soil, is one example of our individual power to bring change through beauty.It is why I wear dresses and lipstick. To me they bring beauty, and beauty helps me stay anchored in compassion and peace. And besides these gifts, it simply helps me to breathe more easily, to rest within the overwhelm and uncertainty that is also part of a human life.But none of this is what I came here to share with you today. It is a bonus ramble from my heart to yours. What I did want to share with you is this poem. I first came across it years ago when a mum from my girls’ school shared it.I loved it, and it helped me rest into and trust the intentions I had for my own girls.Do Not Ask Your Children To Strive….* Poem: William MartinDo not ask your childrento strive for extraordinary lives.Such striving may seem admirable,but it is the way of foolishness.Help them instead to find the wonderand the marvel of an ordinary life.Show them the joy of tastingtomatoes, apples and pears.Show them how to crywhen pets and people die.Show them the infinite pleasurein the touch of a hand.And make the ordinary come alive for them.The extraordinary will take care of itself.The honest wisdom in this poem speaks for itself. I cannot add anything to it. What I would like to invite you to do is apply this wisdom to yourself. Not all of us here have our own children as part of our purpose in this life, although each of us shares the responsibility to love the world’s children and ensure we are creating a world worthy of them.Please read this edited version of William Martin’s poem again, with a lens of applying it to yourself. I have replaced “them” with “yourself” for ease of reading.Do not ask ‘yourself’to strive for an extraordinary life.Such striving may seem admirable,but it is the way of foolishness.Help yourself instead to find the wonderand the marvel of an ordinary life.Show yourself the joy of tastingtomatoes, apples and pears.Show yourself how to crywhen pets and people die.Show yourself the infinite pleasurein the touch of a hand.And make the ordinary come alive for yourself.The extraordinary will take care of itself.I encourage you to remove beauty from the ‘surplus’ list of your life, to be actioned only when time and means allow, and instead find ways to bring it close to you, moment to moment, every single day, in ways that are meaningful and supportive for you.None of us will share the same views, understandings, or preferences for beauty, and thankfully we do not need to.What we do share is an obligation to live a life that creates peace, harmony, compassion, and kindness for all, ourselves included. I am proposing that living beauty, and creating small everyday rituals for this practice, will not only change your life for the better, but will benefit many more beings than you can currently imagine.We do not have to wait until we are travelling in Europe, with our dream partner, or living in our forever home to romanticise our beauty filled lives. We can, and must, begin today.Homework:No matter your current chapter or circumstances, take time to photograph or pause and capture within your being some small everyday moments that already bring beauty, peace, and contentment to your life. Things you may forget to be grateful for but would miss terribly if they no longer existed.Moments I have paused upon this week include:The light dappling through the trees.The stars in the night sky.My old peg basket that still holds pegs from my mum. Whenever I hang out clothes, I feel close to my mum and Nan. Washing is my favourite domestic duty.My husband’s beard and the silver flecks that shine luminously like his heart in the morning sun.The sound of my youngest daughter’s unbridled, joyous laughter soaking into our walls.The honey brown ringlets framing my eldest daughter’s face as she contemplates deeply.Our fully set table just before everyone sits to eat.Confession: I often leave our family table and step into the kitchen after everyone has started dinner, just to sneak a look back at my family sitting together. Witnessing them sharing, eating, debating, laughing, this is all my dreams come true.A table where we can all safely be who we are, disagree respectfully, laugh joyfully, share honestly, and rest in the warmth of safety is beauty beyond expression for me. Tears fall from my eyes as I type this and allow myself to fully take in that this is my reality. My eight year old self still cannot quite believe this is my life.Pausing a moment in a photo, or simply in my being, is one of my favourite ways to romanticise my life. Of course, do whatever brings the most meaning to you. But remember to prioritise it this week.So on that note, I am off, dear humans. I hope that this week you find the courage to keep creating beauty in this world, for yourself and others, and that you risk pausing to soak it in for a little longer than feels natural. Resting in beauty does not rob anyone of anything. It actually adds more of what the world is desperately hungry for.Peace.Compassion.Unity.Respect.I vow to keep finding beauty, even in the least likely places, and I intend to keep writing to you about it every Sunday of my life.With love, beauty, and a squishy hug for all who need one,kmf xo© Kate M Foster. All rights reserved. An Invitation To Trust™ ps, To bring care to my own being and invite balance for all i offer to others, I invite you to become a paid subscriber. These letters will be available freely for 7 days but after that will only be accessible to those that support my offerings. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

Dearest kind human,I worry about things sometimes, like whether I can remember how tall my Grandpa was. He died when I was ten. I still miss him and so many other people that have left.I worry about where my green eyes come from. Both my mum and dad have brown. Was it my Grandpa?And sometimes I worry about why I test myself on these things. What meaning does it have if I get it right? Wrong? Or cannot find an answer at all?When I bring kindness to this wondering, my best guess so far is simple. It is because I love. And I miss them. And I want to feel close and connected.It is still hard for me to believe this life ends for all of us. I forget this shocking fact often. I get busy chasing my tail, questioning things, or pretending I am busy and important.But at my core, I remember that this moment, this experience, this life, is fleeting. And because of that, I want to feel closer to what brings me alive, what offers meaning. So I wonder some more.I wonder what my cousin Soni would look like now. Would she have grey flecks shining through that fiery red halo? It seems unreasonable that she is frozen at thirty five. I honour my wrinkles and growing greys for both of us. Not everyone gets this honour.Sometimes I pretend my friend D is off on another trip up north. Just for a few breaths, I can rest easy and imagine him coming home to his wife and kids. New stories. New music. New art to inspire us all.But this is not how life works. He does not live here in the same way. None of them do. They have all passed away. And some days life on earth is impossible without them.We all lose precious people before we are ready. And grief, while it shatters all we have known, somehow seems to stitch us together in ways we do not even realise would happen.Grief can feel lonely and isolating, and it is. But if we listen with courage, beyond the breaking, it also heals us and invites us into new ways of living and loving. It’s not pretty, or convenient. But it’s honest. And you can trust honest.In time, I’m discovering I must learn new ways to love those who have left. And somehow, unexpectedly, this courage to love those that left in new ways, brings me closer to them again. Plus I’m also beginning to learn new ways of loving other people, things and experiences in this life that is still unfolding on earth.We steadily learn how to keep loving when swallowed by heartbreak and grief. Even though it feels impossible. We need to stay patient with ourselves, because it isn’t easy.Heartbreak, mine, yours, ours, reminds us we are not so different. It urges us to remember that we are much more similar than we assume.A mother who loses her child in Palestine may face different hurdles than a mother who faces this loss here in the West. But I am fairly sure that mothers who have lost their babies, no matter the continent, know darkness and utter despair in only the way they can.Of all the mothers I have met who were forced to farewell their babies, I’ve experienced a palpable almost other worldly love when held in their arms. They know the cost of love and loss, and somehow, at the same time, they embody the sacred gift of loving. They have learnt to befriend much, and when they hold you they truly welcome you into their safe arms.It is the same with suicide. No matter our language, culture, or religion, when we lose our loved ones this way, we break, and we learn to love fiercely.A colleague who worked as a counsellor in refugee camps in the Middle East once asked me what I thought the young girls talked about most.I guessed loss and the atrocities of war. She told me yes, those things came up, but more often than not it was relationship challenges, boyfriend issues, friendship dramas. The same things she supported young girls with in Australia too.It is easy to forget how similar we all are.We use borders and countries, religions and cultures to divide us. We build walls, laws, judgements, and political parties in an attempt to gain safety. Judgement hardens all our hearts.But if we are honest, we can slowly begin to unearth that we have far more in common than we do that seperates us.It is a huge risk to remember this. It is scary to soften our edges. To consider dismantling our automatic, and at times life serving, rigid defences.This is a daily wrestle for me. Softening where I want to hold rigid. Despite all my learning, growth and healing, I’m still desperate for safety.All I need to do is think of Donald Trump and I am reminded what a beginner I am in feeling true unity or compassion with everyone. He is a powerful practice ground for me. As is Vladimir Putin.I use them because my mind holds strong judgements about them. I want to cling to division, I want to feel safe and separate from them, protected by my rigid thoughts. But the truth is, I share some of the same capacities, fears, hopes and insecurities that they do.I too want to be loved and feel special sometimes.I too want to feel in control of my life, with power to influence others.I too want to overpower people I disagree in the hope they will see or understand my view.I too want to create safety and resources for my family.I too want security, stability and certainty.I too get afraid.Yes, there are many ways that we are also different. But remembering what we share in common helps me keep these judgemental impulses in check.Unchecked fear harms others. I share that capacity with them too.Part of me wants to prove I am completely different from them. And while there are real differences, we also have much shared humanity.We all love our children. We all want to support them to succeed in life. We all want happiness.But unchecked, our longings create harm.And as my daughter once said, when she was eight, it’s a slippery slope to the hell realms.If we stop wondering.If we stop grieving and learning how to befriend our grief.If we stop keeping ourselves in check, or interrupting our own habitual thought patterns.If we stop listening to wise counsel.If we stop finding something in common with every single human on earth.We are in big trouble.Collectively, we need to start turning this separation ship around. Even a one degree change can land us on a completely different continent.The way forward will often feel counterintuitive.I cannot think of many people who willingly want to sit and find common ground with Trump and Putin.And that is exactly why we must.We have to start somewhere.No one has all the answers.But thankfully we do not need all the answers.We just need one simple next step.Homework invitation.Next time you catch yourself judging another human, even if your judgement feels valid or protective, find at least one thing you have in common with them.Soften the rigidity as an experiment.See what happens over time.I have no quick fixes for the chaos unfolding on earth. No secret shortcuts to bypass the pain.All I can offer is the way I work with myself on the inside, with honesty and kindness.You are free to take or leave any of my invitations.For me, every moment, is simply an invitation to trust. Not with blind faith, but rather tiny informed actions.I am a mama, a wife, and a student of life. I do not have fancy degrees or accolades. But I am willing to keep learning, healing and becoming the kind of elder this world needs.I am the bravest scared person I know. And I show up as real as I can every single day.To me, this matters.This changes things.It changes me.And therefore it changes the world.Remembering what we share in common is my stepping stone for now.I’m praying you join me in this quest.Take care brave human, remember we are all here together, we can breathe a little easier knowing we are not on this great adventure alone.With safe soft hugs from my heart to yours,kmf xo© Kate M Foster. All rights reserved. An Invitation To Trust™ Ps, If something lands for you, brings a salve, or helps you begin to trust or question, please let me know. While I have always written to help myself navigate my way through the world, sometimes I wonder if it is really helpful for me to share these ramblings with others. When I hear from you, and you risk sharing with me back, it reassures me it is helpful to keep showing up, there is purpose and meaning to keep sharing with you each week. And if its not helpful, that’s ok too, you are welcome to unsubscribe, I would rather leave my words rest in the earth at my feet, fertilising and helping me garden in this little life i’m living.There is already so much bombarding our beings and nervous systems every day, I never want to add to that noise.Ways you can support: Share, Subscribe or drop me a note every now and then so I know you are here with me.Take care. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

Dearest brave hearted human, How do I know you are brave? Because you are on earth, showing up everyday, and forever yearning and learning and becoming. This place sure isn’t for the faint hearted, if we are showing up with open hearts, we are guaranteed to be broken hearted at least once a week these days. For some of us maybe even once a day. Or multiple times a day. I do not say this to be negative or dark, but rather to normalise that it is still ok to ‘feel’ in a world that is far more comfortable with us becoming numb, disconnected and isolated. Heartbreak keeps us human. Having a heart that still breaks when innocent beings are harmed reinforces we need each other, that we are woven together, and that we simply can not get through challenge alone. Please don’t even assume a broken heart is frail, or too soft, or too sensitive. My heart has been breaking for as long as I can remember. Well over 4 decades now. and the scar tissue I have developed has not hardened me, or made me callous and cold. It has not made me bitter or cynical, nor has it rendered me useless or frozen in a world that, in some ways, seems to be growing darker by the day. My broken heart has taught me to tend my sensitivities, my needs, my boundaries. To offer shade to my softness. Nourishment to my depletion. Tenderness to my injuries. By practising for decades, by staying devoted to learning even when my eyes leak, I have discovered that truly tending these very human parts of me has lead to much more clarity in how, where and when to serve the other beings in this world too. A big part of growing up is welcoming heartbreak as part of every human life. If we are going to love we are going to break, there’s no way around that. But heartbreak and suffering have become two different things in my world. They are not the same for me anymore, although as a young woman I was convinced they were. Im not here to educate anyone on definitions, so you don’t need to share my understanding. I’m simply sharing that as I have grown, and spent a lot of time listening to and observing humans who inspire me, I have come to understand that much of my earlier overwhelming pain was not due to heartbreak, but rather the suffering that came from the meanings I attached to almost everything. Heartbreak and grief are life serving to me. They defrost me, tenderise me and bring me closer to life, to others. Suffering, or my way of suffering, is much more complicated. It is like an unconscious, self organised pity party where I ignore all the blessings in my world and get busy telling myself untrue stories that grow my pain and isolate me even more. On top of that, I play terrible loud music, leave the air conditioner off so I can roast myself further, eat only crappy food, and then act genuinely astounded afterwards when I feel even more sick, tired, ashamed and guilt laden.I am not saying we should never host pity parties. They certainly bring their gifts sometimes. As I grow up I am just getting a bit better at setting the timer on my pity party. I give myself a window to ferment and feel sorry for myself, and then I drop it. Times up. Another resource is choosing really wise friends to invite to my pity parties. Friends who will sit with me for just the right amount of time, lovingly accepting my whinge and whine, nodding, reassuringly, broadcasting compassion, before they gently say,What the actual f**k woman? You’ve gone over time. Now let’s gets back to reality…. All the while still broadcasting loving care into every cell of my being!This week, although I am back at work, I have managed to catch up or drink tea with quite a few beloved friends. Each their own unique recipe for love, goodness, generosity and inspiration.Returning from my most recent date, I found myself thinking about how we are all pollinators. Each of us sharing and spreading goodness in our own ways. Buzzing from place to place, taking blessings where we can. Some of us live monastic lives. Some of us wear important uniforms, leading and teaching others. Some of us tending young families or purposeful callings. Others are simply showing up day by day without any great plan beyond favouring dresses over pants (this is my category). But no matter where life has placed us, everyone I know and encounter is doing their best, even when it’s not pretty, to make life more wonderful for others. Pollinators do that. They spread goodness, making life more balanced, fertile, productive and possible for everyone. Simply by being themselves, they redistribute resources for the benefit of all. Often unknowingly, or unintentionally. They link the causes and conditions that result in abundance and healing, fertilising seeds that have been dormant for lifetimes. Pollinators set things free. They create things greater than themselves, reconnecting people, hearts and minds. They wake things up. They even create boundaries when needed. Honest edges that feed and nourish life, even if they are not liked. Pollinators are gold. The planet would cease without them. And most of the time they are oblivious to this reality. They just keep showing up. Normal for them. Exceptional for those looking on.Last night, in one of my dreams, I was working in film. Disclaimer, I do not have the skillset for this. The job I was working on involved secretly trailing a woman as she moved through her village, capturing the impact of her presence on others.There were multiple timelines running. Somehow I was recording both the unfolding ripples of her interactions in real time, and also capturing the domino effect across weeks, decades, lifetimes, and generations as her kindness spread from human to human, and sometimes to animals, nature, and far beyond.I could see a mist of kindness being emitted from her, broadcasting outward without her conscious awareness. I watched it weave gifts into countless lives.All the while, this woman was entirely oblivious to the impact she was having.She was present. She enjoyed sharing. Then the moments dissolved and no longer existed for her. Once the interaction passed, she moved on. Nothing stuck. Nothing was stored.And yet, on film, I could see the minutes, years, centuries, and generations that continued to benefit from each small pebble she thoughtlessly dropped into the pond of life.It was miraculous to watch the ripples move in slow motion across hundreds of years.In real time she was simply on her way to work. Walking down the street. Greeting familiar faces and strangers with the same natural warmth she lived most of her moments with.But in the film, life slowed down, and I could glimpse the vast power each tiny, present, warm hearted moment set into motion. Eventually, that warmth wrapped not only generations of humans, but the whole planet.I know dreams are wild. In waking life they do not always make sense. But this dream of pollination floated back to me as I reflected on time spent with my pollinator friend.It reminded me of the power each of us holds to spread goodness, warmth, and presence in the simplest moments of everyday life. Just by being present.And I knew in my bones, this is all we need to do for the rest of our lives.Live one tiny mindful moment at a time, pollinating ourselves and those nearby, wherever we happen to stand.My prayer for you this week is that you begin to glimpse the power of your own pollination skills.That you are brave enough to risk seeing the goodness that flows from you when you are simply present with life, just as it is, greeting it with warmth and care. Finding new ways to befriend and welcome the ‘not quite rightness’ in all its varied expressions.I pray that the movie I was making in my dream might serve as a quiet revelation of the impact you already have on others. That it inspires you to slow down, pause, and remember that beyond the natural outpouring that flows from you without effort, you can also consciously and intentionally pollinate too.Imagine a world where each of us vowed to consciously pollinate just one other human every single time we leave the house.I reckon we can set some pretty big ripples in motion.And if you are not yet ready to see your own pollinator gifts, I pray you begin to notice those who carry them around you. That their impact becomes inspiration rather than threat or competition.Can you think of a religious leader, spiritual teacher, or elder you admire? How are they pollinating the world?Do you remember that extra kind checkout operator you will happily wait in the long line for, because it feels good to buy groceries from someone with warmth and care?Can you recall a person from your past who truly saw you when you needed to be seen?We have all been pollinated in countless ways. And by remembering what mattered most to us, in those present powerful moments, we are gifted ideas for how to offer similar nourishment to others.It is true we do not always receive what we want from the humans we long for most. But this is a kind universe. We are not denied goodness. It sometimes just arrives in different wrapping than we imagined. Our pollination comes from surprising sources.There is an abundance of pollen on earth. We can shower it on others, roll in it ourselves, and it still does not run out.So rather than believing old ancestral stories of powerlessness and lack, stay in the sunshine. Plant more flowers. Welcome the pollinators in. Let your heart break anew so it can grow and expand. Risk sharing that sunshiny pollen goodness that you are as liberally as you can.I hope to see you in this garden of life soon.With love,and smooshy awkward not quite rightness,from one pollinator to another,kmf xo© Kate M Foster. All rights reserved. An Invitation To Trust™ ps, Would you like to share time and pollinate together this year? You are invited to attend my 2x full day Workshops I am co-facilitating with my husband Rob and the 2x Women’s Retreats I am offering for Chenrezig Institute. Family Constellations Workshops are co-facilitated with Kate and Rob Foster:28 February Workshophttps://www.katemfoster.com/product/feb-workshop-ticket-rob-kate-foster-sunshine-coast-2026/25 July Workshophttps://www.katemfoster.com/product/25-july-2026-family-constellation-workshop-ticket-rob-kate-foster-chenrezig-institute/Women’s Retreats At Chenrezig Institute27 to 29 March — $2807 to 9 August — $300Here are the links below for my husbands 2x Men’s retreats too. Men’s Retreats At Chenrezig Institute24 to 26 April — $28028 to 30 August — $300This is Rob xoThanks for being here and reading An Invitation to Trust! This post is public so please share it so we can pollinate together. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

An Invitation to Trust is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, please become a paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

PS On a physical support level, if you would like to offer something back to me and my life’s work, you can become a paid subscriber here, purchase my oracle cards, hardcover, audio or ebook, attend the 2 workshops Roberto and I are offering next year, or join me on one of my two Women’s Retreats at Chenrezig Institute. Your energy and support is deeply appreciated.© Kate M Foster. All rights reserved. An Invitation To Trust™ An Invitation to Trust is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.Thanks for reading An Invitation to Trust! This post is public so feel free to share it. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

© Kate M Foster. All rights reserved. An Invitation To Trust™ Thanks for reading An Invitation to Trust! This post is public so feel free to share it.An Invitation to Trust is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

An Invitation to Trust is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.Thanks for reading An Invitation to Trust! This post is public so feel free to share it. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

© Kate M Foster. All rights reserved. An Invitation To Trust™ An Invitation to Trust is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.An Invitation to Trust is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

An Invitation to Trust is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a paid subscriber.Thanks for reading An Invitation to Trust! Please share with like minded warm hearted souls xo This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

Dearest Brave HeartCongratulations on making it through another week, and thank you for showing up for yourself and others with care in this not always easy time on Earth. Kindness, tolerance, forgiveness, and remembering to soften really are the glue that keeps us together.(When we remember to keep praising, reassuring, and acknowledging each other, life becomes a little easier for all.)As sometimes happens, my past week feels like it contained lifetimes, so I really do not know where this week’s ponderings and reflections will take us in this love letter. But I am here, and I will let the words out as they flow.Journey Home: Honouring Our First Nations EldersIf you are interested in the amazing culture of our First Nations people here in Australia, there is a new documentary touring called Journey Home: David Gulpilil.It tells the story of one of our most renowned Indigenous actors and shares the beauty and challenge his family faced in fulfilling his final wish to be buried on his homeland, over four thousand kilometres away from where he passed.It is a sacred, honest, and raw account of the journey and the practices of grief that supported his return to East Arnhem Land as his ancestors watched on.We attended with a small group of friends to honour the life of our dear friend D, who was also born in this sacred country and passed away two years ago to the day. We continue to hold his wife, children, and family in our hearts. Farewelling a young husband and dad is a different kind of heartbreak.Parenting in an Online WorldRob and I also attended a parent training at our school with Dan Principe, a youth advocate and educator supporting our young people to navigate this unprecedented online life they face.His honesty and invitation to curiosity, rather than judgment or fear, opened up many conversations in our home. I am still fermenting on this question he asked all parents:“What do you praise and shame in your home?”If you have time to ponder this as a personal reflection, I highly encourage it.I have been deep diving into my own life, past and present, on how I have both praised and shamed me, and the impact of those choices. From here, I am better understanding how I have parented my gorgeous girls and how I can be there for them as they navigate this new world.The Big Pineapple Festival and the Not Quite Rightness of LifeA few months ago, I had a lapse in sanity and bought Roberto and I tickets to the Big Pineapple Festival. I love The Cat Empire and had never seen Hilltop Hoods live, so it seemed like a great idea at the time.As often happens when I commit to leaving the house, my dread grew as the event approached. The ominous weather warnings and lightning storms did not support my safety requirements.But, being the diligent, follow through kind of human I am, we boarded that shuttle bus at Palmwoods train station with a coach full of mostly intoxicated, loud, yelling teens. The short ride, complete with the bus driver pulling over to calm the antics of the aforementioned group, had my noise cancelling headphones in before we even entered the gate.The highlight was seeing great friends as we arrived. The rest of the time was spent huddling under shelter, praying for safety from electrical storms, appreciating my age (have I mentioned 46 is my favourite yet?), and engaging in some pretty ‘fun and far out’ people watching.After the third wild storm, and yet another pause in music “for patron safety”, Rob’s knee was far too sore from standing, so we left without seeing any of the music I had hauled him there for in the first place.The ‘not quite rightness’ of life strikes again :)But hey, check out this ‘Insta’ worthy photo. Do we not look young, fun, and carefree? No one would ever know what really unfolded…Living the Questions and the Power of RitualThe Sacred Simplicity of Everyday RitualsThis morning was a deep dive into big questions and many tears as Rob and I revisited our life purpose, our teachers, and how to keep realigning to make sure we are living a life that truly matters and benefits others.My heart is still tender, and I have an agreement with myself that I only share from scars, not wounds, so I won’t share more now. But I promise I will keep fermenting and fertilising and will share what ripens when the time comes.What I know now, more than ever is this: when things are hard, and we are living questions, ritual is one of the most powerful and profound ways to hold ourselves and each other.I am not talking about fancy rituals that take days or weeks to prepare. I mean the small, everyday moments we intentionally build into our lives and repeat.Things like:* Eating dinner together at the table. Beyond anything we say, our hearts literally change their beats to rest together and we unconsciously remember we belong to each other.* Lighting a candle when we eat. (Even if my second born is just having a snack and sitting alone, she lights the candle).* Kisses goodnight.* Check ins before sleep. (I might not say much during the day, but Roberto gets to listen to me ramble as I defrag my day every night.)* Sharing a cup of tea.* Pancakes on Sundays.* Patting and playing with our pets.* Phone a Friend Fridays.* Stirring each other up, like only Aussies can.* Off key kitchen singing (that is me) and dancing.* Cooking a family recipe, like Mum’s potato bake or Pattycakes’ rocky road.* Ice cream on Friday nights.* Apple slice for Roberto’s birthday.* Inside jokes and old memories that make no sense to anyone else.* Watering my houseplants on Wednesdays and Saturdays.* Hand cream before bed.* My great uncle David’s ritual: making at least three people smile every time he left the house.* My Nan’s ritual: force feeding all visitors tea and sandwiches.Insert your own here.The thing with rituals is that they create safety for our nervous systems. When life gets loud or messy, when chaos threatens to consume us, our little daily rituals hold us safe.They whisper “All is well.”Even when things are hard.I reckon we need simple daily rituals now more than ever.Homework InvitationWhat are your little rituals?What gifts do they bring to your life?As you live your way through this week, notice what they are and how they benefit your body, nervous system, and community.Maybe you journal. Dance. Do yoga. Walk your pet. Volunteer. Eat biscuits on Tuesdays.Take note of what nourishes and sustains you, then repeat often.With love from my heart and home to yours,kmf xops Your support is greatly welcomed, by becoming a paid member of ‘An Invitation to Trust’ Substack I will be able to keep offering these Sunday Love Letters for free and Rob and I will be able to keep offering our Bi-annual Men’s and Women’s Retreats at Chenrezig Institute for a low cost.2026 Retreat Dates and booking Links below:Women’s Retreats27 to 29 March — $2807 to 9 August — $300Men’s Retreats24 to 26 April — $28028 to 30 August — $300I treasure Chenrezig Institute, it is a special not for profit offering non denominational support to all beings, right here on the Sunshine Coast, QLD.Retreat Bookings are now live through the links above. If you are planning on joining please do not wait too long to save your place, they always book out well in advance.© Kate M Foster. All rights reserved. An Invitation To Trust™An Invitation to Trust is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.Thanks for reading An Invitation to Trust! This post is public so feel free to share it. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

Please forgive my stumbles this week, Im forever sharing my best, this week with a sore throat had me tripping more than usual xo With love from my world to yours,kmf xoPS — If you have the resources to support financially, please remember to upgrade to a paid membership, your support will allow me to keep offering these weekly letters for free and my bi annual Women’s Retreats at Chenrezig Institute for a low cost. As a thank you for contributing you will also receive other updates from my home and life.© Kate M Foster. All rights reserved. An Invitation To Trust™An Invitation to Trust is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.Thanks for reading An Invitation to Trust! This post is public so feel free to share it. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

© Kate M Foster. All rights reserved. An Invitation To Trust™ This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

An Invitation to Trust is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

© Kate M Foster. All rights reserved. An Invitation To Trust™An Invitation to Trust is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.Thanks for reading An Invitation to Trust! This post is public so feel free to share it. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

An Invitation to Trust is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

Dearest kind human, Thank you for gathering here with me again. It still amazes me that we are doing this, meeting to connect and remember our shared challenges and strengths. A weekly gathering to remind ourselves that not only do we belong to each other, but we also depend on each other. Together, we are creating this open-hearted, safe space to explore questions, questions we may not find answers to anytime soon, or maybe ever.No one taught me as a child that not every question has an answer. I somehow assumed that any lack of ‘answers’ was my fault—a shortfall or deficiency in me, a lack of effort that could only be fixed through endless striving. No one stopped me to say that the pursuit of something that didn’t exist could only end in failure. Of course, I fell short. I felt ‘not quite good enough,’ and for many chapters stayed trapped in a web far too small to contain any deep truth of life. But these experiences paved my path to peace. Suffering became a great awakener. It highlighted the places I still held pain and felt powerless, thankfully not everyone needs to travel such an intense path in order to rest in peace.I often share that I come from a long line of women who obeyed and resented. From the age of four, I remember consciously watching, confused, wondering why they didn’t challenge, why they didn’t speak up. Why didn’t they say no? Rock the boat? As I grew, I came to understand that we all long for safety, and that both our conscious and unconscious needs shape every choice we make. Not speaking up met needs too. Slowly, blame melted away. The roles of victim and villain blurred, and I could no longer stand so firmly in my judgements. It became clear that we are all products of our environments. Some of us grow through darkness, some through light, and most of us through a mix of both.If you are reading this, I know that somehow, through luck, effort, karma, or some other grace, we have all found our capacity to question our beginnings, and ultimately the courage to keep questions alive in our own hearts. A dangerous, destructive yet necessary part of staying human and alive.Questions keep us groundless, and they also keep us rooted in compassion. When we remember that we don’t know everything, we can extend grace to others who may also not always make the best choices or have the wisest answers.But I digress. This letter began with the pondering of saying NO. Something I have learned, but something I still find deeply challenging at times. We don’t often talk about saying ‘No’. The world we live in is a ‘yes’ world. Even when we long to say ‘no’, we often soften it into: “Yes, let’s do that soon,” instead of offering the truthful answer.I’ve told my daughters that ‘NO’ is a complete sentence. But I also share that saying it isn’t easy, and hearing it is often harder.‘No’ wasn’t a word I used much in my early years. Words weren’t my strength. I had them, they fermented on my insides constantly, but they were not expressed. My mum once told me I wouldn’t speak to men until I was nearly 10 years old—and I certainly didn’t ever learn to tell them no. If I had, maybe the abuse would never have happened? Maybe life would be different? But that is not the story I lived. Like the women before me, I obeyed and resented, until I was finally in a relationship safe enough to learn to say NO. The safety I needed was with me, I was the one I had to learn to tend and care for. ‘No’ is a gift we are each born with. As infants, we cry and express our needs clearly. But by three months of age, many of us have already begun to lose this gift. We learn not to cry, to curb our needs and desires. Some of us never grow enough to do the inner work of reclaiming a true, compassionate, connected NO. At best, we manage a disconnected, withdrawing, severed ‘NO.’How do we hold those younger, frightened parts of ourselves that still believe no = death? For me, it has been a slow and steady process. I needed good teachers, and safe humans who modelled boundaries and also reminded me of the preciousness of my own needs. To hold a boundary in one hand and compassion in the other is our true heart’s work. It doesn’t always look pretty. Everything has a cost. Not saying ‘No’ has a price, and so does using these two little letters.My first pregnancy gave me a reason big enough to face the discomfort of ‘NO.’ Carrying a child, being responsible for another life, I began to learn to speak for what mattered most. I set boundaries and said ‘No’ in my best attempts to care for her. It took another decade before that grew into also consciously considering my own needs, some of the time too.Childhood trauma freezes you into young, compliant states. Defrosting is the work of a lifetime.My next learning ground was friendships. I began risking a ‘NO’ in relationships I thought were safe. With care, respect, and as much sincerity as I could, I built the courage to ask that my own needs be considered too. I quickly discovered who had the capacity to meet me in true vulnerability, and who didn’t yet have the resources. I saw how often ‘severing’ felt safer than ‘staying’, and it reflected the patterns of my childhood. I am proficient in both vulnerability and severing—and everything in between. I’ve tried it all. The more I learn about myself, the more I realise how similar we all are. We may lean in, or withdraw. We may express differently. But we are all just doing our unconscious best to survive and get our needs met.Looking back, I am grateful for those challenges and changes. They taught me that we never truly know who will walk with us for a chapter, and who will stay for the whole book. This has given me open palms. I love more fully, and I hold the door open if someone chooses to leave. Alignment in everything. This clarity prepared me for the next frontier: saying ‘NO’ to my family of origin, and within my intimate relationship. But those are stories for another day.The hardest ‘No’s are in the places I care most deeply. This past month, I have constantly had to say no to women wanting to join my next retreat. I wish I could say yes to everyone. I long to serve all I can. But I am one human being. With the care and intimacy I offer in retreats, and even after increasing my numbers by almost one-third, it simply isn’t possible to take more. Again and again, I’ve had to reply to emails, messages, and calls with ‘NO.’ Each request was valid, precious, heartfelt. My compassion wrapped around them, but I had to decline. And every time, it was hard.I know what it’s like to need support, and to wait longer than you want to receive it. In saying ‘No’ I’ve had to grow my compassion for myself. To better tend the young parts of me that were taught to say ‘yes’ no matter what. To reassure my grown-up self that even though life doesn’t always run on my timeline, it does run on divine time—and trust is still the best option. Some women on the waitlist received spots in the last-minute shuffle that always happens. Others have first place for March. Still, it feels hard. I remind myself hard is just part of grown-upping.Inner work is gutsy. It is rarely easy. And we are all doing the messy best we can. Learning to say ‘NO’ is the same. It may feel like death sometimes. But a true, aligned ‘NO’ is life-serving—a discomfort worth befriending. A lifetime practice worth devoting your heart to.Slow Sunday this week is a little different. It’s the annual Children’s Festival at our little Steiner School so rather than being a home body, pottering and intentionally exhaling, we are about to head out for a big day of peopling in this beautiful place we call home. I’m sending you love and courage from my heart for whatever you are facing. My prayer is that this week you practice being as kind to yourself as you would be to a newborn puppy. Soft strokes, gentle voice, tender touch, reassuring whispers. That’s my promise to myself each day, to practice tending myself with tenderness, but remember even puppies, sometimes, need to hear ‘NO.’With kindness, love, and an at-times awkward but committed life serving ‘NO.’kmf xoP.S. My hope is that these words find the hearts that need them most. If someone came to mind as you were reading, I’d love if you sent this their way.© Kate M Foster. All rights reserved. An Invitation To Trust™Thanks for reading An Invitation to Trust! This post is public so feel free to share it.I almost forgot - Sunflower update as promised xo Roberto finished my potting bench too, i’ll share a pic of this next week.. remind me if i forget?An Invitation to Trust is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe

© Kate M Foster. All rights reserved. An Invitation To Trust™ This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aninvitationtotrust.substack.com/subscribe