How Are You, Really?

I found myself texting, “How are you?” to a friend I haven’t talked to in awhile. Immediately, I tapped my cursor and held the delete button down long enough to erase that oversimplified, broad, and generic question. Usually we get the response, “Good, but busy,” only to have them throw the ball back to us and ask, “How are you doing?”

In his article “The Disease of Being Busy,” Omid Safi writes,

In many Muslim cultures, when you want to ask them how they’re doing, you ask: in Arabic, Kayf haal-ik? or, in Persian, Haal-e shomaa chetoreh? How is your haal?

What is this haal that you inquire about? It is the transient state of one’s heart. In reality, we ask, “How is your heart doing at this very moment, at this breath?” When I ask, “How are you?” that is really what I want to know.

I am not asking how many items are on your to-do list, nor asking how many items are in your inbox. I want to know how your heart is doing, at this very moment. Tell me. Tell me your heart is joyous, tell me your heart is aching, tell me your heart is sad, tell me your heart craves a human touch. Examine your own heart, explore your soul, and then tell me something about your heart and your soul.

2020 taught us to not take anything for granted. Hugs, travel, dining inside restaurants, concerts, carpooling, visiting loved ones in the hospital. Time is finite. So let’s not waste this opportunity talking about the weather. I want to hear about how it felt to say goodbye to your mother who lives in Bali over WhatsApp and the heartbreak you felt watching her funeral on Zoom. I want to know what it’s like to homeschool two kids while going through a divorce, and how you find the strength to wake up every morning in the midst of such emotional and physical fatigue. I want to hear about how magical it was to birth a baby in the middle of pandemic and hold her in your arms after two heart-wrenching miscarriages, or what it means to be the primary caregiver for your father with pancreatic cancer, or what it feels like to be in your body in your life at this exact moment.

If we can pierce through the minutiae and superficial, we can finally begin to touch down on all that is real, all that is pure, and all that it means to be human.

How is your haal?

An Open Letter To the Person Who Broke Into My Car and Stole My Chapstick.

Frankly, I’m a bit embarrassed. I didn’t realize I had so many tampons stored in my glove compartment. I admit, you threw me for a loop, having just sent my friend an enthusiastic “Leaving now!” text and excitedly rolling out my suitcase to my car, sleeping bag and pillow in my other arm, only to find out that you’d been there before me. All doors left slightly ajar with the contents of my center console and glove compartment scattered on the ground and passenger’s seat. I felt discombobulated and violated- my car had been turned inside out without my permission. Maps of California and Oregon that my mom insisted I carry, despite me telling her I’d never use them because I had google maps. The $2.99 yellow rain poncho gifted to me from a friend after a rainy forest hike where I got drenched. My annual San Mateo county parks pass I’d received in the mail just the day before. Old swimming workouts written on lined paper in Ziploc bags that made me miss the pool.

I carefully placed the contents of my car strewn about the cold concrete back into their place- the Ceravie lotion, my Advil container, a stick of concealer and eyeliner for emergency touch-ups after late nights. After scanning everything, I realized you needed my car charger, phone mount, and the Ann Taylor sunglasses my sister had gifted me the Christmas of 2018- the ones that made me feel so chic and stylish, and also…my chapstick.

Driving to my friend’s house, I played Jahnavi Harrison’s song “Hari Om: May All Be Blessed.” On repeat. Until my breath slowed and my nerves calmed down and I could think straight. I sang along with it, again and again, reveling in the calm piano sequence and praying that prayer. I sent you blessings, too. May you be blessed, in whatever difficult situation you’re in.

I thought of you as we hitched up the brand new Airstream to the SUV, hooking the heavy metal chains in an ‘X’ and connected the metal swaybars and attached the pins, plugging in the lights and attaching the trailer mirrors. How this was something that maybe you’d never get to experience if you were struggling to meet your basic needs. You came to mind later that evening when we set up camp and arranged wood and kindling and leaves into our fire pit. Have you ever sat in front of a campfire and watched the kindling and oak leaves burn and turn a fiery orange as they disappear into the night sky? Or looked up into the dark sky long enough for your eyes to adjust, revealing a thousand more stars?

I thought of you as I felt the damp and dark coolness climbing inside of rock formations and the heat and elevation while propelling myself up steep stairs etched into the mountain. While cresting the ridgeline and admiring condors circle gracefully above. How this was a delight you hadn’t experienced if you needed to creep around at 4:35 am to gather the random contents from a stranger’s car. You came to mind as I was enjoying the sound system inside the Airstream, in between Taylor Swift and Phoebe Bridgers songs, and in the middle of the night when the heater kicked on while I was inside of my toasty sleeping bag. Were you warm too?

Thank you for reminding me of my privilege and how much I have in comparison to certain individuals. For showing me that items are easily replaceable, and that experiences and memories are what matter the most to me. Thank you for leaving my lined notebook unharmed and unscathed- it had some poems and ideas that are meaningful to me that I would’ve missed.

I wish you well. Hari Om- may all be blessed, including you. And last but not least, I hope you enjoy and use my chapstick. The peppermint tingle is delightful, isn’t it?

Reciprocity.

““Knowing that you love the earth changes you, activates you to defend and protect and celebrate. But when you feel that the earth loves you in return, that feeling transforms the relationship from a one-way street into a sacred bond.””

— Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass

In some Native languages the term for plants translates to “those who take care of us.”

When we begin to redefine our relationship to the land, to the earth, to nature from one that collects and extracts and commodifies to one that reciprocates and gives back and respects the intelligence of living plants and their consciousness, this is when true reformation and healing occurs.

No-Bake Adaptogen Energy Bites.

Adaptogens are remarkable nontoxic herbs that help the body restore balance and adapt to stress. They work essentially by shielding us against acute and chronic stress and help normalize the endocrine and immune system. They have a balancing capacity that is bidirectional- meaning the plants’ medicinal qualities will help the body regain homeostasis. For example, someone who is experiencing physical exhaustion might report ashwagandha root as energizing, where someone who is in adrenal overdrive might experience a calming effect from it. Adaptogens help balance the body in the areas it needs.

Enjoy these easy no-bake energy bites that contain medicinal and healing adaptogens as a snack or mid-day treat.

INGREDIENTS:

• 3/4 cup raw and shelled pistachios

• 3/4 cup raw cashews

• 15-20 pitted medjool dates

• 2 tsp vanilla extract

• 1/8 tsp sea salt

• 1 tsp maca powder

• 1 tsp ashwagandha powder

• 1 tsp reishi powder

DIRECTIONS:

1. Pulse the nuts in a food processor.

2. Add the medjool dates, vanilla extract, sea salt and adaptogens.

3. Blend together until everything is well-mixed into a dough-like consistency.

4. Form into balls.

5. Store in a covered container in the fridge for up to 4 days, or place in the freezer (my favorite!)

6. Enjoy!

Friendship As Told With Rocks.

I was reflecting on this particular question yesterday- “How is my life better this year than it was on January 1, 2020?” Immediately, my relationships came to mind. 2020 was the great filter for helping me identify the unnecessary, largely superficial interactions that seemingly took up so much energy and time and left me feeling more drained than filled. Remember elementary school? We had to be ‘friends’ with everyone- we were contained in a small microcosm of 30 kids where one wrong move could cost you an invitation to Sarah’s birthday party. The party that always had a piñata and party bags with laffy taffy and plastic slinkies. You couldn’t escape certain people because there was a chance you’d be paired up with them for a reading exercise, or you’d have to stand next to them in the lunch line. But the rules are different in adulthood. You get to choose who you spend time with. You determine who you clear your calendar for and who you decide not to text back.

In 2020, the relationships that mattered were solidified and prioritized. Conversations were deeper and more meaningful. Even though we physically saw each other much less, we could reach out when either of us was struggling. It was reciprocal and built on trust and integrity. In my most challenging moments, my friends consistently supported me with words of encouragement, cards, texts, care packages, and phone calls.

When we are in pain, it’s natural to isolate. But nothing ever heals from a place of hatred. It’s only when we begin to love ourselves and accept our circumstances with self-compassion when the healing can truly begin.

We don’t need more likes or comments. We need real friends. The ones who care for us will stay until we soften. They are unwavering and gentle. In our vulnerability, healing takes place when we are met with compassion, tenderness, and unconditional love.

Who in your life can you support? Who can you love better so they can begin to see themselves through your lens of unconditional love?

Sacred Nature.

Purisma Creek Redwoods Preserve

“The world is not a problem to be solved; it is a living being to which we belong. The world is part of our own self and we are a part of its suffering wholeness. Until we go to the root of our image of separateness, there can be no healing. And the deepest part of our separateness from creation lies in our forgetfulness of its sacred nature, which is also our own sacred nature.”

— Thích Nhất Hạnh, Spiritual Ecology: The Cry of the Earth

What We Can Learn From Elephants.

Today’s art is brought to you by my newly harvested oyster mushrooms.

Elephants show us how there’s so MUSHROOM for improvement in how we function as a society. Elephants teach us that you can be big and powerful and also be gentle, empathic, and compassionate. By communicating through infrasonic vibrations, the wise matriarch keeps the herd cohesive and focused on working towards a common goal. They are loyal to each other, and because of this trust and love, they cooperate well as a team. The matriarch leads in a way that is protective, nurturing, and inclusive. Elephants are the strongest land mammal on earth. And they only eat plants. The matriarch elephant exemplifies what solid leadership looks like in how they serve, uphold, unite, and protect their entire community.

Day 1, after soaking the substrate overnight in water.

Day 7. Spraying them with water twice a day (and playing them classical music to support their growth!)

Day 10. Harvest time!

Tending to these mushrooms twice a day despite the chaos of everything happening in the world was also a way to check in with myself:
-Am I breathing deeply?
-Am I well hydrated?
-Feeding my body nutrient-rich foods?
-Balancing light with darkness (deep sleep)?
-Grounding and connecting with nature?

I never expected that growing mushrooms would also serve as a mode of self-care. Watching these double in size daily was a tangible reminder that what we feed, grows.

Hope you’re tending and taking care of yourself in deep, nourishing ways. Take an epsom salt bath. Walk barefoot and co-regulate your nervous system with the earth’s. Sing. Spend time in nature. Self-massage. Diffuse essential oils. Dance. Cold plunges/showers. Deeply nourish your body vessel with nutrient-dense food, herbs, nervines and adaptogens. Deep abdominal breathing. Play and laugh. Write in a journal. Make art.

Sending you all light and love.

New Year, New Art.

Fluidity, an original alcohol ink 5x7” Kanzaki Card, now available for purchase.

I’ve updated some items in my shop as I’m clearing out the old to make way for the new. Have a look, and if there’s a card or design you’d like to see, feel free to let me know. My favorite things to create are those for specific people or special occasions. Cheers to a new year of making and creating from the heart.

New Year's Blessings for 2021.

I hope this year you do less, but better.

I hope you stay curious and open-minded. Learn a new skill, try a vegetable you’ve never had, spark conversations with people outside your usual community. I hope you find you share more similarities than differences.

I hope you take that idea you’ve been thinking about for a long time and actually begin. Everyone is scared starting out. We learn as we go and as we grow.

I hope you ask deeper questions that cut past superficiality and require vulnerability. The most authentic connections start with asking better questions.

I hope you remember that we never fully ‘arrive’- rather we are always becoming, transforming, transcending into more actualized versions of ourselves.

Don’t be afraid to live the questions and swim in the exciting, adventurous waters of uncertainty. Life would be dull if we were forever anchored in the answers.

I hope you watch something grow- whether it’s a plant or a tiny human- and celebrate this miraculous thing we call life and how we all need sun, water, food, patience and tenderness to thrive.

I hope you are kind. To others, and most importantly, to yourself.

I hope this year you contribute something generous and special to this world in your own unique way. May your cup always overflow with blessings and love.

Gutsy.

My ‘core desire’ intention for 2020 was GUTSY. In January of 2020, I envisioned it to mean stretching outside of my comfort zone athletically, professionally, and artistically. I chose this word because of its root word “GUT” which I associate with gut intuition. This year I wanted to be more aligned and in touch with my intuition. Quiet and still enough to hear it. Brave enough to follow it.

In February I registered for my first 30K trail race as well as a 4-day running retreat in Zion National Park. Flights were purchased. Accommodations reserved. This scared me enough into training consistently and questioning more frequently than I’d like to admit if I should cancel the registration entirely. But it allowed me to tap into feeling gutsy, so I persevered. Gutsy meant pursuing a scuba certification with a friend and making plans for regular surf sessions in Pacifica.

But just like everyone else, our world shifted. Along with our plans.

This year GUTSY looked different. It meant leaning into difficult conversations to protect the integrity and ethics of the workplace, only to discover I was tremendously supported and backed by my colleagues. Gutsy meant having enough faith and confidence in the caliber of my work to collaborate with media companies. Performing a new spoken word piece live for the first time in front of an audience with a musician never having practiced together prior to getting up on stage. Gutsy meant saying a hearty YES to corporate wellness opportunities and doing a global presentation on the gut microbiome. It meant composing new music and trusting and surrendering and watching it unfold magically before my eyes and ears. Gutsy meant inquiring into failed pitches with curiosity so I could harness their constructive criticism to improve and learn. Some of the most valuable feedback as a speaker were from these experiences. Gutsy meant riding solo along new bike routes, fixing mechanicals on the road, and learning to stay calm. Gutsy meant asking for help from neighbors and friends. Gutsy meant humbly accepting a medical diagnosis and admitting to my close friends and family that I was afraid and scared and suffering. Gutsy meant dancing with the fear that ‘it might not work’ and making new types of art, only to find out these projects were the most personal and meaningful things I created all year.

This year I discovered that I liked being home. I like the energy of my space, the way the light filters in and shifts throughout the day, the philodendron that flourishes next to my succulents and Pilea plant babies. How my meditation cushion sits near my yoga mat. The corner of my space with dumbbells and kettlebells and a balance board. The calm, quiet, peaceful solitude that encourages me to create and read books and make music. I learned how to propagate Monstera plants and dove deeper into herbalism and plant medicine. I created a morning ritual of Morning Pages, meditation, mobility, and movement. I call it my 4 M’s. I started soaking every evening in lavender epsom salt baths by the soft glow of candlelight and found I loved singing bowls and painted most freely to binaural beats. With the external world shut down, I was encouraged to turn inward. To get to know myself in a deeper, truer, more honest way. With the noise of the world stripped away, I could finally clearly recognize the sound of my own gut intuition. Being forced to stay home allowed me to come and return home. To myself. And right now, that feels like the perfect place to be.

Disconnect In Order To Connect.

Grounding practice in Huddart Park, Woodside.

“Unplug.
Ground down.
Bring your inquires to the trees.
Place your hands on their sturdy trunks.
Feel their energy pulse through you.
Connect to their ancient wisdom.
Mother Earth is always speaking.
Are you listening?”

— Julianne Kanzaki