How to Know Whether to Ignore or Follow Your Fear

Stepping out...  (Mirror Lake, Yosemite National Park)

This whole time I thought there was only one type of fear. The deep-rooted, irrational, worst-case scenario lizard-brain fear. The kind that tells us to avoid that conversation when our partner says, “We need to talk” because it’s uncomfortable and we might get broken up with and never find love again. It’s the fear that tells us not to press ‘publish’ because people may not like what we wrote. It warns us that if we quit our full-time job, we won’t be able to pay our rent or afford health insurance. We’ll be forced to eat $0.10 ramen and everyone will shake their heads and say, “I told you so.” The Hebrew word for this type of fear is pachad.

There’s another kind of fear. But it has a much different type of energy. It’s what you feel when you step onto the stage as the lead actor and you’re ready and excited and the energy is pulsing through your veins. It’s standing underneath El Capitan and feeling awe-struck amidst the grandeur of nature. It’s what washes over you when you hold your newborn for the first time. This is the overwhelming feeling of reverence and magic when we enter into a larger space (physical or psychological) than we’re used to inhabiting, or when we’re filled with more energy than we’re used to possessing. It’s when we’re in the presence of God and deeply connected to our spiritual essence. It’s a holy fear. The Hebrew word for this is yirah.

When we’re still and quiet, we can discern one from the other. Pachad keeps us small, safe and hidden, but discontentment silently breeds here. Most people’s lives are largely dictated by pachad. But yirah feels much different. We lean into this when we listen to our intuition, turn our heads to acknowledge what our hearts are crying out for, and follow our calling.

Truly stepping into our lives means learning how to manage the screaming pachad. To soothe it, quiet it down, rock it to sleep. And then tiptoe away and swing open the door and step fully into yirah, which has celebratory balloons and streamers and confetti and has been waiting for us to cut the cake all along.

Wake Up.

El Capitan, Yosemite National Park

“You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book… or you take a trip… and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death. Some never awaken.”

— Anaïs Nin

I equate the past month to the feeling of when NyQuil finally wears off. The grogginess fades. The mental clarity returns. I've loved Neil Gaiman's work for the past year. I've listened to this so many times and it never, ever gets old. But now, more than ever, I feel it in my bones. In my heart. I know it's still winter, but I'm done hibernating. I'm ready to start living. I'm ready to make good art.

What are some people or books or songs that have helped you wake up and show up more fully in your own life?

Deep Work.

Montara Mountain, Pacifica

“There is always an enormous temptation in life to diddle around making itsy-bitsy friends and meals and journeys for itsy-bitsy years on end. It is so self-conscious, so apparently moral...but I won’t have it. The world is wilder than that in all directions, more dangerous...more extravagant and bright. We are making hay when we should be making whoopee; we are raising tomatoes when we should be raising Cain or Lazarus.”

— Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

Here's to deep friendships, meaningful conversations, and discovering the light and extravagance you have within you. 

Maca Cinnamon Cacao Crunch Truffles

It's January 7th. Have you blown all your New Year's resolutions yet? Hopefully you didn't make any. But, if you're trying to kick your sugar habit to the curb and are teetering on the edge of ripping open the shiny foil wrapper of that chocolate and reading this post, just hold out for five minutes.

Here's a better option. It happens to not only taste delicious, but it's loaded with superfoods (maca, cacao) AND is free of refined sugar. Which means you won't feel awful about yourself (or lethargic, bloated, lazy, etc.). It's a win-win. A no-brainer. And it's super simple to make.

(Disclaimer: Upon reading the recipe I was 'supposed' to be following, I realized I totally misread the proportions and failed to follow the directions. So this is MY version! My art! My truffles! Enjoy. If you make your own rules, I'm sure it'll turn out fabulous too...)

Navitas Naturals: The Superfood Company

INGREDIENTS

• 1/2 cup raw walnuts
• 1 cup cacao butter, melted
• 1/3 cup maple syrup
• 1/3 cup coconut sugar
• 1/3 cup maca powder
• 1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract
• 1/4 tsp sea salt
• 1 Tbsp cinnamon
• 1/2 cup sweet cacao nibs, divided

DIRECTIONS

Sweet cacao nib powder

1. Place the walnuts and 1/4 c  of sweet cacao nibs in a food processor. Blend together briefly to chop, but leave a little texture.
2. In a small saucepan, melt the cacao butter, maple syrup, coconut sugar, maca powder, vanilla, cinnamon and salt.
3. Add the wet and dry ingredients together and stir until well-combined.
4. Refrigerate for about 20 minutes to slightly harden.
5. Using a mortar and pestle, grind up the remaining sweet cacao nibs into a fine powder.
6. Form the truffle mixture into melon-size balls, and dust the outer surface with the cacao nib powder.
7. Refrigerate the truffles for one hour longer to set completely, and then ENJOY!

Oh yeah...this also happens to vegan, gluten-free and *all that jazz*

Muddy Buddies.

Brushy Peak Regional Preserve

The soft rolling hills flaunt a lush, vibrant green color after the storms. Recent rain saturates the trails with a sticky sort of mud that glues itself to the bottom of your shoe. It accumulates with each step until you're wobbly and teetering on mud high heels. We stop every so often, out of necessity. Find an angled rock, a stick, a thick patch of dry grass to scrape off the inches of mud and continue on. We laugh. It's so ridiculous. The journey is slow-moving and yet so beautiful. At the end, we pound the mud cakes from the bottom of our shoes and they fling into the air like flying mud saucers. 

Life is muddy. It's not orderly or neat, no matter how hard we try to make it so. You work for a company for 20 years and get laid off. Your kid starts hysterically screaming in the middle of the plane flight. You get a text from your ex at the same moment you begin a new relationship. You get rear-ended on your first day of vacation.

We all accumulate debris and mud along our journeys. The good news is, we're not alone. We have each other. To trudge along with, to hold up, to balance on when we're scraping off the mud. It's messy and slow and precarious at times. And yet! It's worth it- to explore, to see, to experience life together. 

Who can you specifically support this week on their journey? Who needs your help to clean off the excess debris they're carrying so they can get moving along again in life? 

How My Life Improved Once I Gave Up New Year's Resolutions

2016 in a nutshell... #topnine

Instead of New Year's resolutions, I choose core desires. This leaves my life open to serendipity and opportunities rather than checking off the goal boxes. In 2016, I wanted to experience adventure, exploration, creativity and community. Many things come our way during a year. With each new project or idea I encountered, I always asked myself first, "Will this allow me to feel more adventurous? To explore? Will this cultivate more creativity or community in my life?" Using this different approach and framework opened up many new doors, encouraged me to step out of my comfort zone and say yes to opportunities I would've normally passed on. Looking back, it's fun to see how 2016 played out...

• I finally learned how to surf
• I created 100 handmade cards in 100 days for strangers and friends alike through my #100DaysofMaking project
• I took a chance and reached out to inspiring runners/entrepreneurs that I followed on Instagram, asked if they wanted to meet up, and became real-life friends with them
• I had the privilege of creating more wellness retreats, plant-based dinners and picnics with my friend and fellow dietitian Praveena 
• I got rid of 500+ items from my life that no longer sparked joy through the Minimalist Challenge
• I wrote every single day
• I solo-explored more coastal trails, saw waterfalls, and experienced the magic of more sunrises and sunsets than in any other year
• I joined my first writers group
• I became better at saying 'no' to the projects and people and things that weren't a "HELL YES!"
• I ran my first nighttime trail run in Marin
• I was a brand ambassador for Betty Designs and had the privilege of racing with, cheering for, and collaborating with inspiring women athletes from all across the globe
• I learned how to dance better with my fear. I got better at holding those two ideas in my head at the same time- "It might work. It might not work." I tried a lot. I failed a lot. But learned from each and extracted clues on how to pivot and iterate.
• I came to more deeply appreciate and understand how much I need my tribe and community, and how much I value the support of my friends and family.

So perhaps, like me, you're tired of New Year's resolutions. Maybe it's time to choose how you want to feel, and go from there. Because at the end of the day, isn't it all about how we feel?

Wishing you a wonderful 2017. May you cultivate and create the life you want!

A Job, A Career, or a Calling?

Triple Falls, Oregon

Do you have a job, a career, or a calling? This is beautifully illustrated with the story of three workers. When asked what he did, the first man responded, "I am laying bricks." The other answered, "I am making a wall." And the third man replied, "I am building a cathedral."

A lot of people are content with their 9-5 jobs. They arrive at work, check the boxes, and clock out. It's the only responsible way to pay the bills, cover the mortgage, and provide for their family. But if asked, they would rather be somewhere else, doing something else. 

Others are actively climbing the career ladder. Hungry for the next promotion. Their eyes are on the prize, always aiming for the higher rung. Putting in overtime and motivated by an internal drive for more growth, power and prestige. Their purposeful and relentless work ethic is admirable to some.

But the most generous, inspiring and transformative people I know are those who have a calling. They would do what they do even if they weren't getting paid. It makes them come alive. It's why they were put here on earth. They are enthusiastic and their work changes us. They are the cathedral builders and they get me all fired up and excited and have me sketching and brainstorming and placing bricks down. Because now I've decided that I want to build a cathedral too.

There's risk involved. It might not work. People may not like it. But at the end of my life, I don't want to be staring at a brick. I want to be gazing upward, wide-eyed with wonder through the stained glass windows of my life. Wouldn't you?

Tinker Creek Thoughts...

Mirror Lake, Yosemite National Park

“I am a frayed and nibbled survivor in a fallen world, and I am getting along. I am not washed and beautiful, in control of a shining world in which everything fits, but instead am wondering awed about on a splintered wreck I’ve come to care for, whose gnawed trees breathe delicate air, whose beauty bats and shines not in its imperfections but overwhelmingly in spite of them.”

— Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

Full-Color, Full-Contact.

Age 4. Already an artist and performer.

Do you ever recognize themes from your childhood? Last night as part of my Minimalist Challenge, I spent two hours combing through boxes containing important and sentimental documents from preschool through high school. Scripts from school plays I acted in, awkward school photos, drawings, honor roll certificates, newspaper clippings, piano recital programs. Even my 8th grade graduation speech, neatly handwritten on 3x5 cards was tucked neatly inside. 

I sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by the tangible record of my life. Term papers that attempted to answer big questions like "who I am" and "the three things I want to have as an adult." (A big family, a lot of money, and to be a doctor or a lawyer, for the curious ones). Quite a big task for an eight year-old girl who loved the monkey bars and tap dancing. My 2nd grade teacher candidly wrote on the side of my report card- "Julianne is artistic and creative. She can, however, continue to show improvement in her mathematics." Still true.

But my drawings! Those were so fun to look through. I came across at least 10 pictures of rainbows that I'd drawn between age 4 up to the 5th grade. They evolved from thick, uneven smelly-pen rainbow lines to more sophisticated ones with gradual, even arches carefully shaded in with colored pencils.

Recently I've had conversation with friends about what I want. We all arrive on this planet with an artist's palette full of colors. Lately, I feel like I've only been painting with gray. But now I have this deep desire to use ALL the colors I've been given. I want to bring more beauty into the world. I want to live a full-color, full-contact life. Meaning being open and expressing all that I can offer. Not afraid to rub up against the unknown and the mystery.

Highway 1, Big Sur Coast

I'm still in love with making rainbows. Except this time I'm taking it off the paper and making the world my canvas. Think about all the colors you have, too. It's not about smelly-pens anymore. It's bigger. We have the chance to make art with our lives.

Creating Deliberate Space.

Upper and Lower Yosemite Falls, Yosemite National Park

Have you heard of the Minimalist Challenge? Here's how it works- on Day 1, you get rid of one thing. On Day 2, it's two things. If you continue this pattern, at the end of 30 days, you would've removed 500 unnecessary items from your life. 

I'm more than halfway through this challenge. I've given away bags of clothes and shoes. Donated stacks of CDs and books that no longer inspired me. Deleted emails from ex-boyfriends. Shredded old bank statements. It feels so good. I feel lighter. The things that stay are ONLY those that spark joy.

My dear friend Praveena first told me about this Minimalist Challenge. Today at lunch I ask her what she's been learning so far from it. I love her answer- "It's only when you create space that new and better things can enter into your life."

The most interesting thing is how this concept and framework is permeating into other areas of my life. On Monday, I closed a door to a lovely side-job in order to make room and time for projects I want to grow in 2017. When more and more invitations and opportunities come our way, it's hard to say no. I am excitable by nature. I want to say yes to everything. But this is what I've learned so far: 

Sometimes you have to say no to something good to say YES to something great.

When we're kids, we don't understand this as well. We are shuttled from piano lessons to soccer practice to church functions. We do our homework in between. We are running on auto-pilot with our jam-packed schedules. There is little space. We have no real say in what we can or cannot do.

The good news is, we're adults now. We have agency over our lives. We can decide what stays and what goes. It's only when we've intentionally cleared space in the forest of our lives that we can recognize and welcome in new opportunities, new forms of beauty. The things and people that make us come alive. The things that matter. The GREAT things.

Love the Details.

“We are important and our lives are important, magnificent really, and their details are worthy to be recorded. This is how writers must think, this is how we must sit down with pen in hand. We were here; we are human beings; this is how we lived. Let it be known, the earth passed before us. Our details are important. Otherwise, if they are not, we can drop a bomb and it doesn’t matter. . . Recording the details of our lives is a stance against bombs with their mass ability to kill, against too much speed and efficiency. A writer must say yes to life, to all of life: the water glasses, the Kemp’s half-and-half, the ketchup on the counter. It is not a writer’s task to say, “It is dumb to live in a small town or to eat in a café when you can eat macrobiotic at home.” Our task is to say a holy yes to the real things of our life as they exist – the real truth of who we are: several pounds overweight, the gray, cold street outside, the Christmas tinsel in the showcase, the Jewish writer in the orange booth across from her blond friend who has black children. We must become writers who accept things as they are, come to love the details, and step forward with a yes on our lips so there can be no more noes in the world, noes that invalidate life and stop these details from continuing.”

— Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones