“I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read, and all the friends I want to see. The longer I live, the more my mind dwells upon the beauty and the wonder of the world.”
Captivating rays captured this morning after descending from Redwood Peak....
“Let me
Keep my mind on what matters
Which is my work,
Which is mostly standing still
and learning to be astonished...”
Chasing the sunset on Mt. Diablo...
This morning while I was walking into the hospital, I looked up into the sky and noticed the way the clouds were perfectly positioned behind this gigantic tree. The vibrant colors of the sky illuminated the silhouette of the branches, and I stopped and just stood there in awe for a moment. I started on my way again, listening to my shoes click against the pavement, while wondering how many people had seen the same exact scene without really seeing the beauty.
I was reminded of my 30 Runs in 30 Days challenge where I documented the beauty I experienced on each run for 30 consecutive days. The benefit of keeping a blog is having the ability to see how much you've changed over time. Looking back, I completed that challenge during one of the darkest times in my life. I felt completely lost and depressed, and the 30 Runs in 30 Days literally forced me to find structure again in my daily routine. More importantly, it challenged me in a creative way to find something beautiful to capture, during a time when the whole world felt disgustingly dark and ugly.
“Someday you’re gonna look back on this moment of your life as such as sweet time of grieving. You’ll see that you were in mourning and your heart was broken, but your life was changing.”
Find the beauty. Desperately search it out, even if you feel as though you're on your hands and knees with an unknown future. Still show up for your life daily even if it means adding a filter (those always help). I found that after 30 days, my brain became used to scanning the world for beauty, and gratitude happened to find its way in there too. I was starting to see the good, the positives, the beauty, one day at a time.
It didn't happen overnight. But I can see and feel big changes in the past three years. Back then, I'd ride my bike to cycle away feelings of grief, unworthiness and depression, Miles and miles of motion therapy, to give structure and so-called 'meaning' to my life. Looking back, I'm thankful for those dark miles...they taught me valuable lessons and forced me to examine my contribution (or lack thereof) to the world.
Pure joy.... (thanks for the photo, Joseph!)
This picture was captured a few weeks ago by a dear friend. What he captured, more importantly, was the joy that has been restored in my soul and in my life. I share this to provide hope to those who right now can't see joy, can't fathom it, can't feel it.
Even when life feels dark and your grief feels bottomless, find one thing that is beautiful. Write it down. Post it on Instagram. Keep this habit up daily, and you will find, like me, that your brain will start to rewire itself and will begin scanning the world for beauty. You will also discover that your friends and family don't just 'like' you, they love you and are invested in the restoration of your joy, even if it takes months, or even years.
Sometimes it's all about how we see our outer world that dictates how we feel about our inner world.
Sometimes we just need a 'reframe.' We need a new filter on life.
And that's how hope and joy start to shine through.
“One day you’ll wake up and there won’t be any more time to do the things you’ve always wanted. Do them now.”
Climbing Half Dome.
Self-publishing that book.
Learning how to salsa dance.
Composing that song.
Applying for that job.
Asking that special someone out for something more risky than coffee.
Registering for your first 5K.
Initiating that phone call to reconnect with a long-long friend.
Moving across the country to follow your calling.
Creating the stepping stones to make your dream into an actual business.
What's the one thing that you cannot NOT do?
Start now.
Redwood Regional Park
I'm thrilled to announce our second 1/2 day wellness retreat on 8/1. We still have a few more spots left if you'd like to join us for a day of hiking, yoga, arts and crafts, and meditation in the beautiful Redwood Regional Park to rejuvenate your body, mind, and spirit. As dietitians, Praveena and I believe that food is also nourishing and healing, so a delicious plant-based lunch is included. Donation-based, so all you need to bring is your open heart and open mind.
Contact me to reserve your spot by 7/27. More details here. See you on 8/1!
So yesterday, this happened...
Proof that I don't ride my bike EVERY Saturday...
Enjoyed this view from the garden of Station House Cafe while sipping on our morning lattes.
Admired some beautiful flowers in the community garden just behind the farmers market...
Practicing with the sounds of birds and children playing outside... (I'm in the turquoise tank in the back left)
I am hyperaware of my right leg, unsteady and fighting for balance as I grasp my left knee and twist to face the left wall. My whole body is tense, as to not create any additional movement that can potentially cause me to tumble.
Out of the corner of the room, I hear the instructor's sweet voice- Why do we practice yoga? Because it shows us that we can be in awkward or difficult positions, and if we simply return back to the breath and breathe through it, it'll all be ok.
This definitely feels awkward. And difficult. I realize that I am holding my breath.
Breathe, what? Hold for five more counts...are you kidding me?!?
I relax and start to breathe, and suddenly, it feels easier. This, my friends, is yoga. I am learning this. It is about gently quieting the mental chatter, returning to the breath, becoming aware of your body, then softening and lengthening and allowing grace to enter.
Perth Trail, Inverness
It is now two hours into our hike. The sun is peeking in between the trees and we are walking the same trails, but this time, in reverse. We are lost, meandering, finding a new trail, only to hike up one mile and see the lead hiker turn around and motion for us to turn back around. My right foot is throbbing and I tentatively place it over rocks and branches, shifting the pressure to my left foot. I ignore the pain and take another sip of water and wipe the sweat from my face.
The view overlooking Limatour Beach, right before turning back around.
I see and notice things along the trail- the purple wildflowers, the cushiony feel of pine needles underneath my feet, the curvature of the red Madrone branches- but I am not enjoying or cherishing them; I am using them as mental landmarks and trying to remember how far into the hike we are backtracking.
I recognize it again. The same clenching, the same tightness, the same constricting, the same insecurity. Except this time, I am off the yoga mat.
Please don't make us descend back into the overgrown single track trail with poison ivy and ferns and prickly brambles. My ankles are already scratched and raw and irritated from clearing the brush with each painful step.
I forgot to bring my machete...
To my dismay, I see the rest of the hikers in front of me make their way down that horrendous trail. It is my worst nightmare. I start down that dreaded part of the trail, and then I realized- this is yoga.
This is uncomfortable and difficult and my mind is panicking and I am forgetting to breathe. This is my practice- to allow, to breathe through it, to realize its impermanence, to be present with each step, to be aware of my thoughts but not become them. And so I pay attention to my inhales and my exhales, the placement of the feet, and the hiker in front of me. I refuse to allow negativity and fear behave like the overgrown poison ivy and irritating brush.
Yoga teaches us that we can choose how we react, that we can learn how to breathe through uncomfortable moments, that we can acknowledge that we have a choice whether we freak out or let the anxiety pass. That in each second, each minute, we have a choice.
To breathe.
To exhale.
To soften.
To release.
To offer up.
To open up.
To let it go.
Three hours later as we arrived back safely to our cars, I realized that I just did some real yoga on the trails. I'm thankful for all of the teachers in my life. Yesterday, I added yoga to that list (and I hope you will, too).
A delicious ending to a very fun-filled day with amazing company...
Matt Davis Trail, Mt. Tam
“It is not possible to complete yourself
without sorrow.
Sorrow is a vital ingredient that shapes
the heart and enriches it.
So endure sadness the best you can
when its season comes.
That rain that can fall from your eye
brings life to a field,
And on other days when you laugh,
a sun takes birth in a sky you will
someday know.
See how all the elements are inside of
you.
See how your soul is a sire of light. ”
The benefit of having a 7am roll-time start on a holiday is that there are absolutely no cars on the road... (Photo cred: A. Daluyaya)
Have you heard of flow states? It turns out that people who experience more 'flow' in their lives are more creative, more productive, and live more meaningful lives. The way we enter into 'flow' is unique for each individual...some people are able to enter flow states during intense physical activity or extreme sports, while others need introspective times of stillness, preferably surrounded by nature. If you are as obsessed about this as I am, read more about entering your own flow states here. One of the ways I enter flow is by riding my bike. I do my best thinking, mental processing and creation of ideas on two wheels. I think clearing out the lungs and clearing out the lactic acid in the legs also helps to clear my mind.
Kelp noodles with broccoli, shiitake mushrooms, tofu, edamame and cilantro with a miso ginger tamari dressing. #vegan #glutenfree
Another way that I enter flow is by experimenting in the kitchen. Trying new recipes and branching out of my comfort zone is no longer stressful; I view it now as exciting. Time stands still, I feel like all of my good intentions are going into this new dish, and I'm always so pleasantly surprised. Tonight, I experimented with kelp noodles! Check out the full recipe for the Asian Veggie Noodle Bowl here.
My new mantra... #PlayHardDazzleOften
Kelp noodles are gluten-free, low in calories, and contain calcium and iodine. They come ready-to-eat and do not need to be cooked (leaving more time to lay out by the pool) and best of all, they are delicious. You can find kelp noodles online at Thrive Market or Vitacost.com. Let me know what recipes you come up with using kelp noodles, or what activities help you reach your own flow state...and Happy 4th!
“How could there be a day in your whole life that doesn’t have its splash of happiness?”
Today's splash of happiness....Red chard wraps filled with hummus, carrots, red cabbage, tofu, avocado and sprouted mung beans. #plantpowered #eattherainbow
“I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. ”
I'd like to add another to this list- getting two flat tires within the span of three miles. There's something very humbling about being stuck on the side of the road with everything that you need (extra tube, CO2 cartridge, tire levers) except for the CO2 adaptor. It must have fallen out during an earlier ride, and I had never even noticed that it was missing from my bag. After an SOS call went out, Tony arrived promptly with minutes- with a bike pump, an extra tube, CO2 cartridge, an adaptor valve, and his trademark smile. My faith in humanity has been restored. There are some people out there who will literally drop everything at a moment's notice and come to our rescue. May good karma follow that man always.
There are plenty of times in life when I feel like I'm prepared and I have everything- that my emergency flat tire kit is all complete except for that one thing. Turns out that without that one thing, nothing else can happen. Everything else in life just falls flat (no pun intended).
And that's where friends come in. They show up when we're stranded on the side of the road with that missing piece- sometimes it's encouragement, sometimes it's 'tough love' advice, but that missing piece is what sets us in motion again in the right direction.
I am definitely a work in progress. I'm always learning. Tonight's dinner meal is proof that progress (albeit slow) can always happen. With a little culinary inspiration from PK, I was able to experiment and try new flavor combinations and colors and textures. This is coming from a girl who used to microwave veggie burgers and call that dinner. So if I can slowly emerge from my culinary shell, all hope is not lost.
Roasted pumpkin squash, fennel, brussels sprouts, blood oranges and hazelnuts mixed over a bed of arugula.
We are all works in progress and we desperately need each other, no matter how hard we try to be independent and self-sufficient. I'm learning this on the bike, in the kitchen, in my workplace, in my relationships. There is wisdom and beauty in this truth. Trust it.
And if you ever find yourself stranded on the side of the road, call me. I'll even bring you a cold drink.
(Note: Usually I use images to supplement my writing, but on rare occasions, I find inspiration from an image and start writing from that place. What follows has been inspired by the picture below, captured by a truly talented and creative friend, Brad).
(Photo: Brad Rank)
Have you ever assumed that a friendship has played its course? That enough time has passed that it feels as though too much time has gone by- that it's too late to rekindle a childhood friendship that was filled with endless boardgames of Sorry, Sanrio stationary and sharing plates of greasy fries on Saturday nights? I certainly did.
So imagine my surprise when I received a personal message one sunny Thursday afternoon from an old friend. I was delighted. The world can indeed be impersonal and huge and lonely, yet the irony of social media is that it creates a falsely connected world. Even though we hadn't spoken in years, thanks to Facebook, in a weird, semi-creepy way, she knows what I ate for dinner last night. In her message, she was inquiring simply about nutrition. It could have thoroughly been answered in a written message, but to be quite honest, I missed her. She is thoughtful, grounded and authentic, so I took a chance and asked if she'd want to meet in person to talk about her nutrition questions and catch up.
Ascending back up Stream Trail...
We found ourselves a week later on the trails of Redwood Regional Park, making our way over tree branches peeking out from the dusty earth, winding our way deep into the forest canopy where the air gets cooler and the world seems quieter. There was a comfortable lull in the conversation, and then I heard her voice softly say- "I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you."
A lump developed in my throat. Her words hit home and struck me at my core. A wave of understanding flowed over me. I never once questioned the ebb and flow of friendships during the dark times in my life. To me, her path in life looked perfectly straight and narrow. My path, on the other hand, swerved sharply to the right, went directly off the cliff and headed straight into the water. Miraculously, we found ourselves together again. In life, we all try so hard to be good friends to each other, to be there for one another through thick and thin, but when sh*t happens, sometimes you just don't know what to say. We all have friends who suffer major losses, who get diagnosed with cancer, who miscarry, who go through heart-wrenching divorces. We all, at times, are at a loss for words, and we don't want to say the wrong things. So we end up saying nothing at all. And the distance grows ever so slightly, then progresses. Until one day, you look back, and you realize it's been a decade since you've last spoken to each other.
She's birthed two beautiful kids. I've had two broken engagements. And yet as different as our lives may appear on the outside, here we were, together again on the same trail- both inhaling the rich earth and bay laurel, admiring the sunlight peeking through the redwood trees, anticipating the uphill curve of the trail, putting one foot in front of the other. In a beautiful and miraculous way, our paths converged once again- a simple reminder of the timeless nature of how old friendships can separate and curve and come back together seamlessly. I saw our paths in life being more similar than different- two women, seeking to live a life of Purpose, to do good things in this world, wanting strong and healthy bodies, desiring to maintain balance between work, family and loved ones.
Just as old lovers are forever etched in our memories, some friendships are preserved there as well. And even a decade later, even though so much time has passed, we can open up to one another and find that tenderness and sweetness are still there- in fact, they were there all along.
The sun was setting as we parted ways that evening. As I waved from my Mazda3 with just enough room in the back to store a bike, she waved at me from her SUV with carseats in her backseats, and I felt a reunited connection with her that made me realize we were more alike than we were different.
I drove home down the windy streets, descending my way back into the city and thought about friendships. It's true- there are some friendships that are meant to be let go of, to be stored away in the boxes with the rest of the dusty prom pictures and binder paper love letters. But some are meant to be rekindled, revisited, reignited again.
It's really quite simple and beautiful when you allow yourself to reach out again. Perhaps it's time to contact that Facebook friend and reconnect face-to-face- the way you were when you considered yourselves to be 'real' friends. It will not disappoint you. In fact, it may be one of the most enriching experiences. We all go through changes and our paths separate. But despite our differences, there is true beauty and sacredness in the coming back together of it all.
And that's something that I definitely and wholeheartedly "like."
