Come Make Art with Me!

This summer, I’ve been involved in a fun series of art, mindfulness, and music at Creekside Social in San Jose. I’ve led the mindfulness portions for these events, and I’ve loved inviting people into a mindful and present state to access the deeper themes behind the art-making. Figure drawing was all about the art of seeing and being seen. Upcycling and sewing were about taking what no longer served its initial purpose, and creating something new that’s relevant for us now. (Similar to how we can change outdated narratives and storylines to support us in life). Last week’s improv class was about the art of staying present, and realizing don’t have to abide by old cultural and societal scripts- we have the power and privilege to choose how we will respond in the moment.

I’m excited to announce that I’m teaching a class using alcohol ink on Thursday, 8/8/24 from 5-7pm. This medium has taught me firsthand how to let go and let be. It’s invited me to soften my perfectionistic tendencies, loosen up, and stay open to what can unfold. So many times, it’s the moment when I surrender and release control when the magic happens.

I’ll be joined by singer/songwriter Esther Young (our third collab in a year!) and her lyrics and tone perfectly match the ethereal and dreamy nature of this medium.

Hope to see you there!

RSVP HERE

Ways to Reflect Love to Someone.

Dream Lake, Rocky Mountain National Park

Answering your phone when they call, even if you’re in the middle of something. Remembering quiet anniversaries- when their dog died, when their mom passed away, and letting them know you’re thinking of them. Giving your honest opinion when they ask, with kindness. Putting your phone away when you’re together. Listening to the story they’ve told you three times already, with as much enthusiasm as if it was the first time. Text me when you get home. Picking them up from the airport. Surprising them with their favorite snacks. Unloading the dishwasher. Letting them vent without giving advice. Apologizing first. Celebrating their wins as if they were your own. Tell me your dreams. Choosing to trust their word. Sending them silly memes. This made me think of you. Showing up for them because you know how hard it is for them to ask for help. Following though. Being loyal during rocky times, not just by staying, but by being an active part of their healing. Letting them love you, too.

Respair.

I stumbled across this word a few days ago, and I’m determined to bring it back into today’s vocabulary. In the Oxford English Dictionary, it has just one record next to it from 1525.

Language gives us the capacity to name things, shaping the geography of our thoughts and feelings. We’ve all experienced despair- whether through losing a loved one, a pet, a job, dealing with a chronic health condition, or navigating the uncertainties of life.

My hope is that all of us can experience respair- fresh hope; one that comes with time and patience and allowing ourselves to be held by our community.

The Invitation.

Brainard Lake, Colorado

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, ‘Yes.’

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

~Oriah Mountain Dreamer

Crossing the Threshold.

This piece symbolizes how I’m intentionally moving from a place of hyper-independence/'lone-wolf' mentality into a space of conscious collaborations with trusted community members and friends (symbolized with all the 2s, 3s, and 4 patterns). I've started sharing vulnerable and tender parts of my story that have been shielded and protected, and I've been met with incredible support and tenderness (hence the fluffy pillow of leaves). I created this altar at the physical threshold between my door and the outside world. I had the privilege of having a few trusted friends witness me cross over this threshold altar, experiencing the power and freedom that comes from being seen and held in community.

How to Find Your Flock.

To anyone who’s felt like they don’t belong or fit in- Embrace your weirdness. Lean into the hobbies and activities that delight you. Be brave enough to explore and roam pastures that call to you, as unique as they may be. Keep doing things that make you feel alive, even if they seem silly or crazy.

Where you find your flow, you’ll find your flock. 🐑🐑

Dried mulberries contain anthocyanins and resveratrol, which helps reduce inflammation, lowers blood pressure and decreases LDL cholesterol. One 1/4 cup of dried mulberries contains 3g of fiber, 3g of protein, and 30% of the daily value for iron. I enjoy snacking on them whenever I’m craving something sweet, mixing them with nuts for a balanced blend of protein/fat/CHO.

Letting Go.

I place the final blossom down and step back. It is whole. Complete. Symmetrical. I smile, celebrating the art I’ve made. I’ve spent the last hour gathering materials from nature and arranging them on the earth.

I walk away, knowing that a gust of wind will blow leaves away in a few minutes. Or a squirrel will scamper across and disrupt the symmetry of maple leaves. Pedals will scatter. With each passing day, the altar changes form. It comes apart. Flowers shrivel. Blossoms brown.

And yet, isn’t this the practice? With certain friendships? Careers? Identities?

Celebrating what is here, even if just for a moment.

Not grasping and holding on so tightly.

Honoring impermanence.

Letting go.

Love and Grief.

Whenever my mind is spinning and cluttered with busy thoughts, it takes everything to sit down and make something. But once my hands are in the dirt and arranging flowers, a stillness and peace wash over me. My mind quiets. My heart opens.

It’s like this with meditation, too. It’s overcoming that initial resistance that ultimately leads to spaciousness and clarity. I created this in remembrance of my meditation teacher Mark. Saturday was the 3-year anniversary of his passing, as symbolized by three pink petals. The red and white rose petals signify how grief and love are intertwined.

If the flowers are wilted by tomorrow and some petals have been blown away, was making this piece of art worth it? If the ones we love won’t be here forever and one day they’re gone, was loving them worth it?

The answer is YES. Always, yes.

Ways of Measuring Growth.

Operating from a place of abundance rather than scarcity. Responding instead of reacting. Trusting your heart and gut before making a decision. Accepting things as they are instead of automatically trying to change them. Arriving on time. Giving someone the benefit of the doubt. Turning down a client because it doesn’t feel aligned. Creating space in your schedule to rest. Honoring that space. Selecting foods that nourish you. Moving your body because you love and care for it, not because you’re punishing it. Inviting in boredom because it’s a portal for new ideas. Trusting the timing of life. Not panicking when you’re in a season of hibernation and everyone else is harvesting. Letting go of FOMO and choosing to do things because they genuinely delight and excite you. Not criticizing your younger self, but rather thanking them for everything they endured, survived, and learned. Those experiences were the gifts of your becoming.

April in 9 Squares.

Join Me IRL on June 8th!

We’re almost halfway through 2024. This year, I’ve felt the most grounded and connected when I’ve slowed down and spent time in nature creating Morning Altars. This practice has provided solace during times of grief and loss, as well as ritualized thresholds. It has been a conduit for inspiration and joy. Making art with nature has been a way to create in a different medium other than words or paint. It has taught me the art of impermanence and practicing non-attachment. There’s nothing like finishing a piece and then watching the wind blow half of it away.

More than anything, I’ve seen how this practice transforms people. Allows them to make sense of the stories inside of them by placing leaves and flowers down in patterns. Gives them symbols to both remember and release.

I am honored to share this practice at the next Asian American Healing Convening together with Chopsticks Alley Art and Peninsula Open Space Trust. I invite you to join me as we explore our inner and outer landscapes through mindful reflections and creating art with natural elements. If you’ve been disconnected from your creativity and claim you’re ‘not an artist,’ I got you! It will be both an exploration and an opportunity to wonder, wander, play with inspiration, and invite joy and whimsy back in. As a free event, you have nothing to lose and everything to gain- a deeper connection with yourself, your community, and nature.

Link to register is HERE.