How It All Started...

The idea for creating this book came from participating in #the100dayproject, so it felt fitting to begin the evening with this spoken word poem. The poem’s last lines were written on my Wednesday morning walk, two days before the event. All of the poems in my book were written in this way- received as downloads while on early morning walks. Entire lines and stanzas would drop into my consciousness, and I would immediately record them on my watch. I’d later transcribe them when I came home.

(Note: The sound quality is compromised since it took place during the art walk with people strolling through the various galleries.)

First Friday Author/Artist Talk: Food For Thought

Above are some sweet memories from my author/artist talk at Chopsticks Alley Art Gallery during the First Friday San Jose Art Walk. I shared about the process of writing and illustrating this book, read my favorite story from the book, and wove in some spoken word poetry. The best part of the evening was hearing my dad share in response to me reading our story (the chickpea page) which brought many of us to tears. Friends from all chapters of my life traveled great distances to celebrate with me. This was an evening I will fondly remember for the rest of my life.

Every April during junior high to high school, and even when I returned home from college for Easter break, my mom would take me to the annual Children’s Book Illustrator show at Sun Gallery. I loved meeting the authors and seeing their original art displayed in the gallery. Each year my mom would let me pick out one book and I’d get the author’s autograph. I have a stack of all these precious books in my bookcase now. My mom recalls in college I got back into the car, buckled my seatbelt, and proclaimed, “One day, I am going to write and illustrate my own book, too.”

Decades later, here we are. To showcase some original art from my book and have an intimate conversation about my creative process with loved ones was a surreal, full-circle moment. I am deeply grateful for everyone who helped me get to this place, who watered these seeds of curiosity, and encouraged me to keep creating and believing in this dream.

Celebrating What's Here.

“Tending Altar” created in Purisma Creek Redwoods

So often I coach clients who suffer from what I call “Destination Addiction.” It sounds like this- “When I lose weight…When I get that job…When I get the perfect partner…When I finish that project…When I complete that ultramarathon….then I’ll be happy.”

Nature and creativity are tools to help us dissolve certain mindsets. The invitation here was to forage within a radius of 20 ft. To weave together our inner and outer landscapes by asking, “How can I use what’s around me to create beauty? How can I see the ordinary with new eyes to make something new?”

“If your everyday life seems to lack material, do not blame it; blame yourself, tell yourself that you are not poet enough to summon up its riches, for there is no lack for him who creates and no poor, trivial place. ”

— Rainer Maria Rilke

It begins by simply looking and noticing what’s actually here. The richness that exists in this moment and place. Instead of waiting to reach the ‘destination’ to be happy, how can you celebrate the present moment and tend to it? Praise it? Be astonished by it?

You Must Let It Find You.

Boy Scout Tree Trail, Jedidiah Smith Redwoods State Park

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.

“Lost” by David Wagoner

Arranging Debris and Creating Meaning.

Yesterday as I was crouched down arranging this before the rain, an older Chinese woman approached me. We always pass each other on our walks, but this was the first time she acknowledged me.

“This is…for kids?” She asked in her broken English.

I nodded. “Yes. Actually, it’s for all of us.” I explained simply that nature, creativity, and slowing down are for everyone.

I invite her to sit with me. It turns out she’s 79 years young and not on any medications. She walks “because there’s nothing else to do.” We arrange the maple leaves and she hands me acorn caps. I place them down while we weave our distinctive stories and histories together. When we finish, we stand and admire what we created.

“Now we release it and let it go.” I motion with my hands. She nods. We linger, witnessing the magic of the moment and what was created between us just from slowing down in a chaotic world.

Made in honor of Cam, the sweetest dog who was a guiding star and light. Even now, in her own way, she continues to connects strangers together with her love. 🐶🌈⭐️

My Book is Officially Out!

Photo: M. Lujano

It’s been a whirlwind of a journey. As an endurance athlete, I can honestly say that writing and illustrating this book was a different kind of endurance event. It required more physical and mental stamina than anything I’ve ever done in life. Which makes this launch so incredibly rewarding. I’m grateful for my tribe who has supported me through eleven rounds of edits, countless hours of formatting and designing, and for watering this seed into fruition. Thank you to everyone for all your support, and for the hundreds of people who have already ordered their copies. Like an athlete crossing the finish line after years of preparation and hard work, I’m overwhelmed with emotion- feeling thrilled, proud, exhausted, and mostly- truly grateful.

There are some fun events coming up in the next few weeks. Feel free to read more HERE.

Peas and Love, Julianne

The Tree Rings of Life.

Photo by M. Lujano

Freshman year in college, I heard a knock on my dorm room door. I opened it to find Brian, a well-built senior, politely asking to borrow my lecture notes. We became fast friends. His birthday is two days after mine. That first year, I baked him a brownie cake in the dorm kitchen, decorated it with Betty Crocker frosting, and wrote his name with licorice rope.

After he graduated, he started a tradition. Every year on my birthday, he sends me a message asking questions about my year and includes his annual life update. I reply back two days later on his birthday. This year marked 25 years of this special tradition.

In trees, the patterns of wide or narrow rings reflect what the tree endured that year. Thinner rings signify a year of drought. Thicker rings indicate when rain was abundant and the tree was well-supported in its environment.

In our 25 years of annual updates, we have created our own mapping of tree rings. There have been years of hardship, relationship strain, job changes, and financial stress. And there have been years of flourishing, expansion, and growth. Our stories continue to unfold. Years when I thought my story was over, it was simply taking a sharp U-turn to redirect me to something better. Our annual messages illustrate that anything and everything worthwhile takes a long time. That life is never perfect, but sometimes it’s good enough, and that’ll do. That we need a bit of fire and water and stress, however uncomfortable, to deepen our roots and build strength and resilience.

The best friendships in life are those that have stood the test of time. That honor tradition despite drought, fire, and adequate rain. That encourage you to keep growing and reaching for the sun. That perhaps started with a simple knock on a dorm room door.

Full Circle.

I gave my first sports nutrition lecture ~10 years ago to a group of teenage rowers. I remember feeling nervous and reading mostly from my PowerPoint slides.

So imagine my delight when I received an invitation to speak to a group of high school rowers. It was truly a full circle moment. I’ve now come to love teaching and presenting, especially when I can fuse my own art into the materials to make it more relevant and engaging.

Starting with a story…

I re-imagined the “Plate model” in order to create a visual that could illustrate the components of their meals based on training load.

For much of my career, I followed a straight path of strictly ‘nutrition and dietetics.’ But in the past few years, I’ve ventured out more, exploring my curiosity in the realm of art, writing, and storytelling. It makes me happy to now see how these skills are weaving together in a way that allows me to bring so many parts of myself into my personal and professional work.

So continue to follow those sparks in your life that make you come alive. Pursue the hobbies and interests that make you turn your head with curiosity and wonder. Give yourself permission to go down a new path and explore and discover. You may find all of these paths lead back to the same place. Home. To yourself.

Beyond the Familiar.

My sweet friend Catherine posed these two questions at the start of the fall season:

What are you shedding?

What are you inviting in?

My morning walk now begins in the dark. I listen to the leaves crunch beneath my feet. Walk into invisible spider webs that were spun overnight between the oak trees and the ivy climbing across the walls. The ravens fly overhead, announcing my presence. Squirrels scurry across the tree branches. Slowly and gradually, the sky begins to lighten. Clouds turn cotton candy pink as the sun peaks over the horizon line. Dawn illuminates the trees. They’re also in transition. Slowly shedding their leaves and exposing bare branches. A metaphor for my own internal journey.

I am shedding and releasing my fierce attachment to timelines and future plans. And instead, relaxing and swimming with the current, instead of against it. Allowing what is meant to unfold, to unfold. Continuing to work hard while simultaneously surrendering to the big mystery.

A cozy little spot along the cliffs of Big Sur.

I am inviting in people and experiences that spark curiosity, openness and wonder. Individuals who teach me aspects of life I never considered because their history, culture, and stories are so different from my own. I’m learning to trust and follow them to the edge. Beyond the familiar. Discovering magic and mystery that I’m seeing for the very first time.

Containing It All.

I’m transported back to my waitressing days in college. The Noodle House, nestled in the corner of a shopping center on Convoy Street in San Diego. There was Tom, the regular who routinely sat at the back table at exactly 12pm. I’d scribble down his same yaki udon order as soon as he set his hat down.

I witnessed a few awkward and nervous (and dare I say hopeful?) first date conversations. And one dramatic breakup where a woman stormed out, leaving a spilled bowl of rice in her wake and an ex who simply shrugged at me.

There was a middle-aged, well-dressed woman who came in every Wed at 1:30pm and ordered enough food to cover the entire table. She’d consume it all while reading a romance novel, then would quietly excuse herself to purge in the bathroom. We exchanged polite smiles, but underneath I could feel the hell and shame she was living with.

That little restaurant contained it all- loneliness, sadness, rage, mundanity, celebration, and love. Just as the world can simultaneously hold deep pain and dissonance and horror while also containing tenderness and compassion and hope.

Sometimes I feel I’m back in that tiny restaurant- collecting orders, serving food, and bussing tables. Doing my best, moment by moment. Pausing when the door chime rings, not knowing what enters. But still looking up and greeting whatever is showing up with curiosity and openness. “Welcome in. Any table is fine.”

Enoughness.

My ‘enoughness’ altar. Weaving the physical offerings of nature with deeper questions: Where in my life do I feel ‘not enough’? Where in my life do I feel I am ‘too much’? What parts in my life feel like ‘just enough’?