Possible Futures.

Anytime a ‘quiet anniversary’ passes, I think about what my life would’ve been like if I’d gone down a particular path. If I’d actually gotten married or continued working as a clinical dietitian at the hospital. If I’d stayed in Southern California. I imagine how other things may have differed- my values, my community, my interests, my hobbies, my spirituality, and my contribution to the world.

Instead of reminiscing about the past, I’ve flipped the script and started visualizing all my possible futures. We’ve seen how dramatic life changes and transformations can occur in just a few years, so why not reimagine the plethora of options that await us? Thoughts become things.

I’ve been experimenting with the concept of Mind Movies. Every morning and evening I’ll visualize in detail some possible future. Just for fun. They are wildly diverse- ranging from living a nomadic lifestyle in a sprinter van traveling and writing and photographing in nature. Leading wellness retreats in Bali and Hawaii where I incorporate sound bath healing and art therapy and nutrition and hiking. Teaching and creating workshops with my partner at Esalen. Adopting a puppy. Moving to Colorado. There are so many futures that invigorate me because they are all ripe with excitement and possibility.

I keep a journal with all these possible futures. When I feel stuck, I flip open and read some of these pages to remind myself of new paths and directions I can choose to explore. Because life doesn’t happen to us. It happens for us. And we can consciously co-create with the universe.

When we give ourselves permission to say ‘no’ to things and people that cause our bodies and souls to contract and shrink, we free ourselves to feel the openness and expansiveness of saying YES to the many possible futures that our souls are calling us towards.

Think big. Reimagine the possibilities. Thoughts become things. Your future(s) await you.

The Month of "No."

Shonda Rhimes is famous for her brilliant book, “Year of Yes: How to Dance It Out, Stand In the Sun, and Be Your Own Person.”

I decided this month I’d create my own experiment- “The Month of No.”

I have a huge wall calendar and every day this month I’ve kept track of something I declined, cancelled, or said ‘no’ to. Some included speaking invitations that I wanted to say yes to, but I knew that it’d require time and energy that I didn’t have. I cancelled monthly subscriptions for supplements I didn’t need. Monthly skincare subscription products that I had stockpiled under my cabinet. I declined meetings that weren’t mandatory. Turned down a few project collaborations that didn’t spark interest. Declined a baby shower and happy hour invitations. Returned clothes that I ordered online and didn’t absolutely love.

This experiment is giving me full permission to deeply listen to myself. Honor that quiet voice and my own inner ‘no.’ It’s allowed me to have the time and space to meet up with friends who I really love spending time with, call people and actually talk on the phone, and create art from a place of freedom and joy. Simplifying my life by clearing out the excess has shown me how happiness (for me) is found in the beautiful mundane- reading books in the evening underneath a weighted blanket, morning walks in nature enjoying the crisp weather and the turning colors of leaves. Making nature mandalas. Cooking delicious meals at home.

Saying no to so many things has cleared my calendar to make space for the people and projects that light me up and energize me. It’s simplified my life in a myriad of ways. By saying no to the ambivalent time-fillers, now I can focus my days on things I truly care about.

It’s also given me a healthy respect when people say no to me. I applaud them for advocating for themselves, and honoring the rest and time they need for their own mental and physical health.

I imagine there are many benefits to a year of YES. But for now, I’m loving the subtraction, the simplifying, the paring down.

Saying no has freed me to say yes to my own life. It is simple, yet full and beautiful.

Art In Progress.

Anything worthwhile takes a long time. I think about this in terms of quality and workmanship and craft. While cleaning, I found some old card designs from 2017. At the time I was proud of them. But now having made hundreds of handmade designs, I see how at the time I was still searching and learning and discovering my style.

I took those original ideas and iterated on them. I upgraded simple chalk leaf designs into watercolored stencils. I’ve found a better flow with hand-lettering. The imperfect quality of the letters gives them a unique feeling. Something personal. Like a friend wrote to you and licked the envelope and dropped it into the mail.

Creating so many handmade cards is a labor-intensive process. Physical labor. Emotional labor. I first lay down the watercolor base, let it dry, and then hand-letter. I write the text-heavy cards out in the evening because I’ve found my hand is steadier than in the morning.

There were so many cards where something went awry during the final process of writing the text. My hand smeared the letters. Or the lines weren’t symmetrical, or I missed a word. At the end of the day, even though they started out as having so much potential, those cards were rendered useless. They ended up in the recycle bin. Which made those final cards, the ones that made it from start to finish, even more priceless. A true labor of love.

Just like life, we can feel a false sense of security when we lay down our so-called foundations. When we attend the ‘right’ college or get the ‘right’ job or marry the ‘right’ partner or reach the ‘right’ level of financial security. Only to have everything become irrelevant in the end with a quick smear of distrust, deceit, or uneven emotional and energetic reciprocity.

Henry Miller Library, Big Sur.

So when the final cards are sealed in their envelopes, I feel a deep sense of connection to my art because I know all the work that went into creating each one. And my hope is that you or the recipient will feel that love when opening a card from me. Thank you for supporting my work through the years.

Cheers to continuing to practice. And realizing that art, like all of us, are still in progress.

Tuning In.

Tuning in. Esalen, Big Sur.

Our bodies tell us when someone or something isn’t good for us. It starts with feelings of tension, anxiety, a hunch that something is ‘off',’ or even annoyance.

We must create the space to listen. Tune into the lingering feelings, the unease, the inexplicable hesitancy. Trust the subtle way your intuition is nudging you in a different direction. Trust the way it searches for a language to communicate to your nervous system.

What if you honored that still, small voice? What if you followed its guidance? How would it feel to finally have your head and your heart aligned?

I Am Love.

Following the light this morning. French Trail, Redwood Regional Park.

“When I was an infant, I received love.
When I was a child, I tried to earn love.
When I was teenager, I chased love.
Now, after all these years, I realized
I am love.”
— Julianne Kanzaki

How To Care For Your Future Self.

I’m an introvert. Perhaps a borderline ambivert. Here’s a tip for anyone out there like me, or anyone with people pleasing tendencies.

When you’re invited to an outing, a party, a dinner, a celebration, an event, a speaking gig, or anything that requires more extroverted energy output than you’d prefer, pretend like it’s happening tonight.

Do you have the emotional and physical energy to attend? Especially after a long day of work, or writing or meetings?

This has saved me numerous times. In the moment, I’m tempted to reply, “YES! I’d LOVE to! Can’t wait!” even though deep, deep inside I’m fully aware that when that day rolls around, I’ll be kicking myself for agreeing to something I don’t actually want to attend.

So I started pretending the invitation is for tonight instead.

It’s a very clear “HELL YES!” as well as “HELL NO” when I started experimenting with this. It was a powerful filter for the people and invitations I was clearly excited about versus merely agreeing to because I wanted to be nice.

Time is finite. It is arguably our most valuable resource.

By using this technique, I’ve gained my time back. Instead of spending three hours attending a dinner event I’m feeling ambivalent about, or attending a happy hour function small-talking with people I most likely won’t interact with again, I’m spending it with individuals and celebrations that light me up and energize me. Or spending it on getting extra rest or working on projects that me feel awake and alive.

So the next time you’re invited out, pretend it’s tonight.

Then act accordingly.

The Minister of Loneliness.

I hope you enjoy this new spoken word poem from one of my favorite artists, Sarah Kay.

Birthday Reflections.

This year, I tried to live in a way that would make my 9-year-old self and my 90-year-old self proud.

I learned how to rollerskate again. Experimented artistically with paper cut illustrations and acrylic paint and polymer clay. Walked barefoot in the grass and sand. Jumped in the ocean. Followed my curiosity. Was more playful and silly and loose. Laughed at myself. Wrote poems and shared them with new friends on the beach. Got better at accepting that failing is part of learning. Remembered that practice makes progress, not perfect. I made decisions from my heart more. Fell in love. Opened up again. Became more embodied with dance, massage, breathwork.

For my 90-year-old self, I focused on legacy and longevity. I traded HIIT for long morning walks in nature. Prioritized rest and recovery both physically and mentally. Went on retreats. Found mentors. Scheduled uninterrupted time off so I could have the creative space to devote to art projects. Dove deep into healing and shadow work. Stopped trying to “fix” situations and instead, listen. Started writing and illustrating my first book- something that’s been a huge dream of mine for years. Intentionally chose friends and experiences over things. Realized community is the new currency.

This was the year of discovering, creating, and surrendering. And simultaneously remembering and returning home. Back to myself.

Here’s to another year. Of integration, wholeness, awe, and wonder.

Into the Depths.

Latest work; 11x14” original alcohol ink on yupo paper. Available in my shop.

“It is not difficult to make things. What is difficult is to reach the place from which we can make things.”
— Brancusi, Sculptor

One teenage client I worked with in the past struggled with depression, anxiety, and ADHD. All of these largely affected his lifestyle choices, including his nutrition. When we started working together, he was so numb and disconnected from his body. My usual approaches of dietary suggestions fell flat because his emotions and anger blocked his motivation and desire to make changes. He could care less about his diet and what he fueled his body with.

But he agreed to make art with me.

For weeks, we would meet together and head to the park down the street from his house. We sat on the grass, I’d pull out my box of art supplies and we’d draw, color, scribble, and sketch. I watched him move from colored pencils to thick markers. One week he used oil pastels.

I noticed how his color palate shifted. Slowly, he introducing more vibrant colors. One week he drew a sun and flowers.

Drawing and coloring allowed him to access a part of himself that was buried. When words failed, he used images and color schemes to illuminate the joy and childlike wonder that was dormant underneath the layer of depression and anxiety.

Art helped him access his heart. It took time. But his ability to uncover that part of himself that was buried was the first step in his wellness path. Eventually we were able to talk about food. But it took time, patience, curiosity, and in this case, crayons and construction paper.

His ability to ultimately reach the place where he could make things turned out to be the key that allowed him to make changes.