Craig Constantine

A life in motion

Everything I do—whether in Pause or 7 for Sunday, in a podcast, blog post, or conversation—traces back to three words: Discovery. Reflection. Efficacy. They aren’t a framework I invented, but a pattern noticed in what I was doing.

I don’t write, speak, move, or listen because I have answers—I do it because I’m still learning to hear and understand. And writing especially feels like a way to make space for that understanding. Poet Mary Rueflé put it better than I ever could:

I used to think I wrote because there was something I wanted to say. Then I thought, “I will continue to write because I have not yet said what I wanted to say”; but I know now I continue to write because I have not yet heard what I have been listening to.

~ Mary Rueflé, Madness, Rack, and Honey

After decades of struggle against my own nature, I’ve given up trying to focus on just one thing. Instead, I’ve learned to relax—or at least, to be slightly more relaxed. When the creative energy is flowing, I channel it. And sometimes I simply pause.

I used to feel pressure to unify my work into one thing. Now I see the scattered parts as a constellation—all connected by invisible threads I don’t need to strictly control. You don’t need to follow every thread or deeply explore any one part. But I do hope you find one small piece which sparks something in you.

I believe a meaningful life isn’t chased but rather is noticed, one moment at a time. It’s about presence, not pursuit. Curiosity drives everything I create, and each bit is, at its core, an invitation to pause, to reflect, and to live with greater intention. Long-term practice in Aikido showed me strength, humility, and mindfulness in motion. Over time, it taught me to value consistency, and that with ability comes responsibility.

When I found Art du Déplacement in my 40s, I didn’t realize I was stepping into a lifelong practice—not just of movement, but of humility. I went for the fitness and stayed for the mindset. I had to unlearn decades of disconnection from my body—years spent thinking of movement as something separate from being. That journey rediscovering my body, breath, limits, and playfulness reshaped how I live and teach. It’s now the foundation beneath everything I now offer.

I have a personal oath, which coaches me to share my experiences (rather than pretend to certainty). That might be in Movers Mindset, where I explore what moves people, or in Open + Curious, where I consider how dialogue shapes reality. It might be in Podtalk or in the Podcaster Community, where I show up to support indie podcast creators. Or it might be in a quiet quote from my Little Box of Quotes, where a thousand voices whisper counsel when I need it.

I’ve spent years in podcasts—creating shows, coaching others, and hosting conversations. What stays with me most, though, are the unrecorded moments, when ideas land because we’re fully present with another person. That’s why I have conversations—and why, when I can, I share them as podcasts, hoping they might move someone else the way they moved me.

My blog is a public thinking space. I write with the garage door up—partly to challenge myself and partly to share what I’m learning as I go. Over time, it’s become a tool for reflection: I revisit my past, looping back through old blog posts, notes, and journal entries as part of a habit of looking back and learning forward.

So, yeah, that’s a lot…

If any of this resonates, feel free to start anywhere. Or just leap to a random post on my blog, where I’ve left 5,000+ breadcrumbs in the open.

Me? I’ll keep moving, reflecting, and listening.

If you’ve read this far, and you have a question or an idea for something we could work on together, head to my contact page. and drop me a note.

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