It’s been over 10 years since I began this blog, this little space where I write a bit and some of you are gracious to read a bit too.

Many times over the past years I have cringed at the title, and contemplated changing its name simply to Kirsten Macaitis – pockets being a juvenile, unimportant aspect of life, right? But rather than embarrassment, I’ve now come around to a re-love of the title and concept. My first post ever featured pockets and how things are so much better with them. But I’m even more convinced that we as people are all better for having them. Indulge me here:

We find refuge & respite in pockets: pockets are places to hide, places to put our hands when we feel awkward and unsure; pockets of shade from the harsh sun, or pockets of sunshine that break out from clouds or grey, all provide spaces where we can rest a little while.

We can put and find resource in pockets: tools, aid and skills that assist us in our journeys.

Bilbo Baggins would vouch for the power of something put in his pocket (Tolkien Reference alert). Don’t even get me started on the long history of patriarchal prejudice that is demonstrated through the deliberate lack of pockets in women’s clothing – that might be for another blog.

So let me say again -or even for the first time- this space is to provide pockets of refuge, respite, and reflection – where we can find safety in the collective acknowledgement that
“It’s not just me – maybe it’s you too!”,
where we can see parts of ourselves that we are proud of, that we need to work on, aspects which have been hard won, reluctantly inherited, or much earned.

Here are opportunities for us to acknowledge pain and fear – and the most important part – to learn what it is to be kind with ourselves and each other in that confession.

Thanks for coming along the ride with me, friends. I’m grateful that you stopped by.