A Simple Question.

Kamakura, Japan

Imagine if you began every day asking your inner child this question.

What adventures would you embark upon? What magic would you create? Where would you explore?

Time is finite. Spend it wisely. Be open to what you stumble upon. Know it was meant to find you.

Asking myself this question everyday for the past three weeks has led to discovering secret cafes, hidden restaurants, beautiful gardens and shrines, and creating new friendships with people all around the globe. Where will this question take you?

Some Hopeful Ideas to Cling To.

Toyko, Japan

One of the best days of your life could happen in 2027. Or perhaps 2036. You could discover a hidden talent at 60. Invent a new art form in your 70s. You were the reason someone quit their soul-sucking job and pursued their passion. There’ve been many people who thought you were beautiful but were too shy to tell you. People feel safe in your presence because you allow them to feel seen and validated. You’ve yet to taste the most incredible meal of your life. You renewed someone’s faith in humanity. Taught someone else the value of establishing and honoring boundaries. Encouraged someone to start therapy. You could meet a new best friend while traveling abroad. Fall in love again. Someone did something for the first time because they were inspired by you. The stranger you sat next to on the plane didn’t mind when your head tilted toward them when you fell asleep. There are unforgettable sunsets you have yet to still see. Your old romantic flame sometimes thinks about you, too. The thing you fear the most may never actually happen. You never lose what you gave to love. You have yet to meet more parts of yourself. You are stronger than you think you are. And more tender, too. Life will continue to expand in new ways that surprise and delight you. You will be ok. Everything in life is happening for you.

Hiroshima.

I feel it in my bones here. The heartbreak, destruction, grief. A desire for peace. The sakura are in full bloom.

I walk along the Promenade of Peace path as a Japanese-American yonsei. The hyphen symbolizing the division I feel between being an American yet feeling so rooted and protective of my Japanese culture.

I remember the stories my grandma told me of the internment camps. Imagining myself as an American citizen, being forced to evacuate, stuffed on a train with the windows boarded up, and forced to live in a barrack brought up many emotions for me.

I created a morning altar of sakura petals in front of the A-bomb dome spiraling outwards as an offering. A blessing for expanding hope and peace in the world, while honoring and remembering my center, my roots, my ancestors. 🌸

The Beginning of a Beautiful Relationship.

I’m in a new relationship with my neighbor. I have yet to learn his name or speak to him.

It started last week when I saw two bright pink camellias placed on the little patch of dirt outside my window where I create my morning altars. A wordless, generous gift.

I couldn’t help but laugh with surprise. It was an invitation to play with me and co-create! As I left for my morning walk, I foraged a few purple flowers from the nearby bush and placed them down near the camellias.

To my delight when I returned, there were two pink bundles of flowers placed on either side of the now growing altar. I added a few more leaves to create a frame. I waited, ran errands, and returned to the altar. For the rest of the day, it remained this way.

The next day it rained. With each passing day, I watched the altar shift and change. Leaves blew away. The bright camellias started turning brown. The purple flowers shrank and their vibrancy changed into a muted lavender. Slowly, this altar turned into the color of the ground. It changed and faded away. Impermanent, like everything else.

This morning I woke up to find two bright white matilija poppies placed over the old altar. An offering of hope and newness. An opportunity to dance again with wonder. A reminder once again that we are connected to one another and our natural world. Words are optional.

Things That Matter.

Materials: camelia, dandelion, dried ivy branches

Blessing: May we use the weeds (dandelions) of our lives as the raw materials to create beauty in the world.

I didn’t close my Move ring today. But I did make a woman smile as she watched me gather dandelion flowers at the neighborhood park at dusk. I made beauty from weeds and dried-up ivy that spread itself across the wall behind the corner intersection. I helped a young man in his 30s reframe his relationship with food and aging. Gave a middle-aged man hope and the tools to reverse his hyperlipidemia, hypertension, and prediabetes with lifestyle medicine. These are the things that matter to me now. Creating more beauty and hope in the world. Which can’t be measured by a perfectly complete red circle.

Your Joy Bucket.

Big Sur trails always make my joy bucket overflow.

She came to me, convinced she had Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. After a detailed analysis of her diet, supplements, and bloodwork, I was stumped. Everything was normal and her meals were balanced and nutrient-dense. She was diligent with her exercise and sleep habits.

“What are you doing to fill your joy bucket?” I asked. She stared blankly at me. I rephrased my question. “What do you do for fun? For pleasure? Out of pure joy?”

“Nothing,” she replied. We spent the remainder of our session brainstorming ideas and activities that connected her back to herself- the self she’d been neglecting and ignoring because of work demands. She came back 2 weeks later, rejuvenated and replenished. “This whole time I thought I had chronic fatigue, and really it was because I wasn’t doing anything that brought me JOY!”

Often we feel exhausted, not because we’re doing too much, but because we’re doing too little of the things that make us feel alive. We were not born to work and be productive and make a living. We were born to explore, heal, create, grow, climb, connect, follow our curiosities, and love.

Whatever you do, remember to fill your joy bucket. 💕

Fill Your Pockets With Stars.

During this past weekend’s Morning Altars teacher training program, there were many moments of grief, deep sadness, and contemplation. Around our stories, our ancestors’ stories, the current political environment, the wars ensuing as we sit comfortably in our living rooms on Zoom. There is so much to be said and acknowledged and recognized, yet no words can capture the sheer amount of pain that many of us are navigating in our own lives and simultaneously expected to ease for others.

One of my mentors, Claire Takahashi, invited us to take a deep breath together to reset our nervous systems.

As we exhaled together, she spoke this beautiful line.

In darkness- loss, injury, failure, war, divorce, illness, death- it’s incredibly difficult to see the blessing, the light in it all. But I’d like to imagine us grasping at a few stars and stashing them in our pockets. Only to later find them by surprise in the future. Perhaps while walking near the ocean and enjoying the sunset, we’ll reach into our pockets and pull them out. They’ll blink back at us. Remind us of our resilience. Proof we made it through the darkness.

Find the Right Audience.

Recently, I’ve been studying stand-up comedians. It’s fascinating to watch them perform the same joke in different venues. For one audience, the punchline causes an eruption of laughter and applause. For another, it completely flops.

Here’s the thing. The joke and delivery are the same. But the environments are different.

Maybe it’s not about you or your work. Maybe you’re simply in the wrong environment. Presenting to the wrong audience.

Part of the equation is creating great work. The other half is finding the right audience who understands your art, your humor, and your perspective. Make sure you’re standing on the right stage.

A List of Kindred Spirits.

Fort Funston in SF.

Someone you make eye contact with during a meeting who feels the exact same way you do. The person you uncontrollably silently laugh with at the most inappropriate times. The adventure buddy who is always up to explore the longer route, even if it’s cutting it close to sunset. The person who brings good snacks. Gym-goers who clean their weights off and wipe down the bench for you. The one with the good book recs. The neighbor who smiles at you every morning and pauses to let you pet his dog as part of your morning ritual. Someone who is honest enough to let you know you have something stuck in your teeth. The person who always has sunscreen and an extra jacket in their car. The one who says, “Let’s just order a bunch of everything and share.” The teammate who also stays in the pool to finish the entire set when everyone else has already headed to the locker room. The friend who sends video and audio messages because they know it’s a little extra but you deserve extra. Someone whose hugs make the whole day better. Punctual pals. Secret keepers. The uplifters and encouragers. The friend who will drive an hour on a weeknight to watch the sunset with you near the ocean. The person who respects your ‘no’ and doesn’t take things personally. The friend who has witnessed all the chapters of your evolution, even the rebellious and chaotic ones, and stayed to see you through to the other side. These are your people. Your kindreds.

Using Limitations as a Source of Creativity.

Often in my practice, I work with clients who have immense limitations. Time. Food intolerances. Physical injuries. Reimagining these constraints as new frameworks to play within opens up opportunities. Suddenly what was perceived as a huge barrier simply becomes something to harness as creative fuel. How many 2-minute ‘exercise snacks’ can we fit in during the day? What new recipes can we create that are gluten-free, nut-free, and dairy-free that the kids will eat? What new ways can we strengthen the upper body if the knee is healing from surgery?

What if your ultimate limitation became your biggest liberation?

Sharing Joy.

Some snippets of joy from First Fridays Art Walk San Jose. (Photo: Anthony Lé)

(Photo: Anthony Lé)

So much of creating art is done in solitude and isolation. Hours spent imagining ideas, writing, editing, re-formatting, second-guessing, marinading in self-doubt. Then the moment finally comes. You put it out into the world and hold your breath. I hear it all the time- “Make the thing that makes you happy.” And while I wholeheartedly believe that, I think we all want our art to mean something. To create a ripple of joy in the world. To delight strangers.

The moment I’d envisioned for my book launch in December finally happened last night. Signing books. Asking how to spell someone’s name because I just met them. Having a mom whisper, “This is perfect for my daughter because we’re beginning to talk about health and food.”

Every opportunity is connected to a person. I’m grateful for Trami Cron, who sat in the audience of my first Chopsticks Alley open mic, and later opened so many doors and welcomed me into this incredible Chopsticks Alley Art community nest. It’s wild how this whole adventure began on a Wed evening in June, wearing sweatpants on my couch, looking through Eventbrite for a place to meet other artists. I never would’ve imagined it would help me find my flock.

Sometimes the thing you’re searching for is much deeper. And when you’ve found it, it shows.