Katherine here.
One of the things I love most about being on the Committed Impulse team is getting to read the reflections that land in our inbox after a newsletter goes out. They’re thoughtful, vulnerable, funny, surprising—and sometimes exactly what someone else may need to hear.
So this week, I wanted to share a bit of what came back.
Connie F. wrote:
“Play always involves the body, the senses… our body can express things that words alone cannot, so our brain is actually off the hook while we play. We are free to be present.”
Our brain is off the hook!
That is so CI.
She went on to say that many of us delay play because it feels unimportant—or like something we haven’t yet earned. But maybe the invitation is the opposite:
-prioritize it.
-schedule it
-make it a practice
Here’s another, carrying a very different kind of truth.
Mark Lanham wrote:
This CI work impacts my life in unexpected ways—like a week ago when my friend and housemate of six years told me she had been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer.
In that moment I felt hollowed out.
There’s a theme park ride called the Finnish Fling. You enter this dim circular chamber and stand with your back against the wall. The chamber starts to spin faster and faster before the floor drops out and you’re held against the wall by sheer centrifugal force. That’s what this felt like.
I felt numb until I realized that was a lie.
The numbness was me trying desperately not to feel.
The silver lining for me is I finally saw (using your “Unshackling Your Body Armor” exercise) that most of the unexpressed sensations reside in my solar plexus. Therein is the unheard voice the world has been waiting to hear.
I discovered that when I allowed my breath to enter that area, even when it felt unyieldingly taut like the head of a conga drum, I was able to experience the sensations without fear or judgment.
Today as I was walking to the subway, breathing and feeling that undiscovered country in my solar plexus, I began to get a taste of the aliveness that’s possible when I allow myself to feel. This shift has also allowed me to fully show up for my dear friend.
I am so grateful for your teaching and your book, Lose Your Mind: The Path to Creative Invincibility.
At first glance, these responses might seem unrelated—one about play, another about grief and fear. But side by side, the same thread runs through both:
Presence.
Play asks us to be here. Feeling asks us to be here. Creativity asks us to be here.
Thank you to those of you who wrote back. Your reflections shape this community in ways you probably don’t realize.
And if Josh’s question is still lingering, I’ll pass it back: What helps you enter the realm of play? Leave a comment and let us know.
-Katherine, CI Studio Manager
psst… Wanna play?
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