the poems do all the good

“When people die, they cannot be replaced. They leave holes that cannot be filled, for it is the fate — the genetic and neural fate — of every human being to be a unique individual, to find his own path, to live his own life, to die his own death.” ― Oliver Sacks”

“Did the poems do any good? We’ll never know. We certainly wrote, all of us, some very bad poems, and we knew it. But the alternative was not to do it at all, and that seemed unthinkable, and it still does.” — W.S. Merwin

“Watch me a bit longer, you said, and tell me all.” — Vedran Jankovic

The world darts like a hare and we chase it like hounds.

I cling to stillness that resides some where under the frenzy.

When you really give something your attention, everything else seems to fall into a hush, like watching the snow fall on a winter evening, covering every blemish on the ground. Just for a little while.

I learned of a friend’s passing in December.

I hadn’t heard from Vedran in years. We had studied abroad in Rome together and often met up in coffee shops in Seattle to discuss poetry and philosophy and books, writing, and food.

He treated me like a little sister - always with a protective and playful demeanor. The first sip of wine I ever had was out of his glass, in Paestum, after a sunny spring day of frolicking in grassy ruins of old temples and sampling peach cobbler and “boofalo” mozzerella, as he called it in his thick Serbian/Bosnian accent.

We were both the eldest children of immigrant families driven away from our ancestral homes due to war and genocide. We didn’t speak much about it, but there was always an unspoken kinship in the burden that we shared.

Maybe that’s why we both were so drawn to language, English in particular, as it was mastery of a culture that was not ours. A way to bridge both worlds. A way to be taken seriously. A way to hold on to ourselves. A way to belong.

A few years ago, I had noticed that he was thinner and more palid than normal. The lavender under his eyes, a glimpse into the sleeplessness that haunted him. “Daylight Dracula,” I would jokingly call him as he sipped his espresso and crinkled his eyes in a small smile.

He had gone through a bad break up and it was consuming him in ways he never spoke to me about. After a while, I stopped hearing from him.

I wrote him a letter addressed to his last known residence. After months and months of waiting, I received a response, from his mother. The card simply said that she wished to speak to me. Her phone number was scrawled on the inside.

Part of me knew then what she was going to tell me.

It was Christmas Eve and dreading the conversation awaiting me, I postponed calling the number on the card until December 26. When she heard my voice, she broke down into tears as she told me her son was “lost”.

After years of suspecting the worst, I finally had an answer.

I went to visit her and her husband and their bunny, Masha - who was named after a character in one of Vedran’s favorite bedtime stories. They welcomed me warmly but with a heavy grief.

We laid fresh flowers on his grave and wept as the wind lapped at our faces.

Before I left the house she let me look through his books and gave me one of his watches from his large collection because of an old poem he had once written about an old broken watch. I keep it on my book shelf in my office where I do my writing.

I saw you, like you saw me, like a reflection in the sea. A decade later I can still see the ruins. I can hear your voice, whispered like the wind swaying in the tall grass.

I’ll keep time for you, my brother, until the clock stands still for me.

Love Made Visible

“Every man, every woman, carries in heart and mind the image of the ideal place, the right place, the one true home, known or unknown, actual or visionary.” — Edward Abbey

“Work is love made visible.” — Kahlil Gibran

“Grief does not change you, Hazel, it reveals you.” — John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

Grief is the chisel that pulls out the human being from the marble of cold hard existence. Fearing grief is to fear your own true nature. To fear becoming what it is asking you to be. To fear leaving behind whatever it was that you once were. To fear building something new. It is fearing what must be done.

Letting grief do its work is the ultimate bravery. For grief is the chrysalis that all those who seek transformation must endure and break free from. It is here that we get our wings. Grief is just a different form love takes.

It’s hard to know what the nature of reality is. Does the universe conspire to help us or does it plot against us? Or worst of all, is it icy with indifference?

What if it’s all three? What if these are the paradoxes we must contend with? What if the universe refuses to be reduced to anything less than what it is - unknowable in any sort of entirety? Perhaps, it too, is always re-creating itself. Different today than it was any other day.

Sometimes the questions are more important than the answers, so I wonder, if the universe was capable of caring, would it?

I often think about what animals see when they look at us. Especially other primates. Do they see us and wonder if they were made in our image? Do they curse mankind, these demi-gods that shape and distort their lives, mercilessly.

We often feel so powerless and victimized by larger forces, seemingly out of our control, that we forget about the rather impressive power we hold over the existence of others. So, at times, I wonder if there is a larger force, not unlike us, that is also just as unsure what to do with the immensity of itself as we are.

In that thought, I feel a kinship with the universe. Maybe she’s as lost as I am. Maybe we are partners in this act of mutual creation.

So then I ask her, “what will we make of ourselves?”

“Something soft”, she answers. “Like a womb. Something soft enough for all possibilities. Something soft enough to endure the weight of those possibilities.”

This was a heavy month. I lost two of my hens to a coyote attack. Bluebell, and Juniper. To have held a chick the size and shape of an egg the day after its birth, is a feeling I hope everyone gets to experience at least once. It is the feeling of supreme wonder, child-like joy, and the weightiest of responsibilities.

I could see from day one that I was dealing with an intelligence, both similar and vastly different than my own.

I feel like hens embody womanhood. And they carry it with such grace and the spirit of sisterhood. Each one is distinct and wonderous. I loved them with the love of a mother. Many people might scoff at that remark. But I think those people do not understand what love is.

It knows not reason nor limit. It just is.

I did my best to protect the remaining four. They were tormented daily by the coyote prowling around the coop and run. They could no longer free-range and forage in the yard unattended. And they certainly could not do it with the same innocent abandon they once had.

The yard, once a dreamy summer garden, was now a barren and cold nightmare littered with the down of my babies.

And as the yard no longer felt like home, my actual home started to feel foreign as well. I started to feel hardened and brittle.

So I knew I must do something to soften myself.

A really kind and generous friend with a grand coop and garden in Snohomish agreed to take my remaining girls. They are happy there. They integrated into the flock with dignity and grace and I was proud to see them adjust to something new.

I miss them dearly, but I knew I could not care for them the way they needed. Not yet. My parents are too old to take care of them in the winter. And it is time for me to seek out a new nest for myself.

Jack and I are looking for rentals so that we can start transitioning into a life together. We are hoping to be able to buy some property in the next few years so that we can build for ourselves and our animals, the home we’ve always dreamed of.

You can tear down walls, but you can’t tear down faith. I will once again build my chicken cathedral.

Until that day, I will console myself with working and planning, and I will visit the girls when I can. Mama conspires to bring you home again one day.

And to Blue and June-bug, I love you more than you know. Rest easy, baby girls.

The Moon is down but not out

“You destroyed the law when you came in, and a new law took it’s place. Don’t you know that?”

“It’s always the herd men who win battles and the free men who win wars.” — John Steinbeck, The Moon is Down

“I’m beyond tired. I’m beyond scared. I’m standing on the mouth of hell and it’s going to swallow me whole… and it will choke on me.” — Buffy the Vampire Slayer

I’m feeling bent and warped by an angry sort of grief. But I have a muddy sort of light to share with you this week.

I read John Steinbeck’s The Moon is Down this morning.

He wrote it to embolden the occupied people’s of Europe during the German occupation. It was printed in stealth and distributed amongst the people at great risk to themselves and it feuled a resistance. It was translated into dozens of languages and distributed all across the occupied nations. In Mussolini’s Italy, being seen with a copy of this book was a crime punishable by death. That’s how terrifying this 100 page book was to those in power.

It was steadying to read. Britain’s occupation of India ended in 1947. Only 77 years ago. My grandma was a young girl then.

Their disasterous handling of Pakistan and Punjab resulted in a horribly bloody struggle after they left. My family lost quite a bit of farm land and people to the struggle. That is about the same time the British divvied up Gaza and Isreal. The reverberations of the violence of these occupations still echo loudly for the scattered peoples of Britain’s ex-colonies.

Many different efforts drove the British out. There were many bloody resistances that loosened the lid of the jar, but the ones everyone remembers most were Ghandi’s hunger strikes and civil disobedience campaigns. Ghandi is who inspired Martin Luther King Jr.’s peace marches in America. Little do most westerners know, Ghandi had a wife, Kasturba, and she taught Ghandi about civil disobedience. She was jailed several times before Ghandi caught on and realized he couldn’t win against the British without the women as they were the back bone of society. As trampled on as they were.

What sealed the deal on Britain’s exist from India was actually financial. They were bankrupted by the two wars they had just fought and needed to unload the burden of having to take care of a rebellious colony across an ocean.

It’s funny how finances are often the determining factor above any sort of moral obligation or responsibility.

It was during and after the wars that America’s industrial machine, primed for war time production, sank it’s gears deeper into everyday civilian life.

The seed oils that were used for lubricating machines and weapons began to be used in shelf stable food product and for cooking because it was cheap and abundant. Even though it is linked with heart disease and inflammation in the brain.

The small sustainable family farm that fostered stewardship of the land and community togetherness was obliterated by factory farms where we put millions of animals through gulag type situations for an apetite for cheap fast foods with no concience of their sourcing or methods used to produce them.

The DDT that was also a product of war was sprayed on the fields and people indiscrimantly to reduce pests until Rachel Carson wrote Silent Spring. We became alienated from the earth and her creatures. And we poisoned our selves in the process.

War time propaganda began to be used on the civilian population of our own country to convince people to buy based on desire rather than need. Foods and products became more addicting. Corporations gorged themselves on the spoils of their own homeland, swollen like ticks, managed by maniacs with egos the size of mountains and instead of breaking up their power, like we would have once done under Teddy Roosevelt, we worshipped them.

We became a culture obsessed with personal desires and image. A bottomless pit of consumption. A perpetual war machine that is digesting itself.

We became invaders of our selves.

But this is actually a positive in some ways. If we are the problem, we can also be the solution. Systems can be re-made. It’s not easy, but it is possible. And I will hold on to the possible like death.

Conversations and Connections

“So Matilda's strong young mind continued to grow, nurtured by the voices of all those authors who had sent their books out into the world like ships on the sea. These books gave Matilda a hopeful and comforting message: You are not alone.” — Roald Dahl, Matilda

“Ultimately, the bond of all companionship, whether in marriage or friendship, is conversation.” — Oscar Wilde

“Good conversation can leave you more exhilarated than alcohol; more refreshed than the theater or a concert. It can bring you entertainment and pleasure; it can help you get ahead, solve problems, spark the imagination of others. It can increase your knowledge and education. It can erase misunderstandings, and bring you closer to those you love.” — Dorothy Sarnoff

There are days I think about not writing these letters anymore. I love writing them, but I wonder if I have any right to throw my opinion around without solicitation. Who am I to think I have anything worth saying anyway? 

I decided to continue for a few reasons. First, because I think it would kill me a little not to. Writing has always been a way for me to make sense of the mess in my mind. 

And second because I feel that some of the best things in my life come to me in the form of books with ideas that jump like currents into my body; so consuming and invigorating that they rewire the way I interact with my inner and outer worlds. They live in me, continuing to shape and mold and to do work that may only end when my last synapse goes dim. 

I like sharing those books with you to gift you some of the vitality they give me, and to add onto the conversation I start with those authors and artists. 

When I looked at it that way, as a way to carry on a conversation, passing along the spark, it made all the sense in the world to continue. 

I might not be able to fully articulate what I’ve been pondering, but I hope you will look at my ideas with an open and understanding heart. I say heart because in Punjabi, the word for mind and heart are the same. And I like that. 

This month I read Wendell Berry’s The Unsettling of America: Culture and Agriculture and Colin Ellard’s Places of the Heart: The Psychogeography of Everyday Life. On the surface these books and authors have little in common, but they both made clear to me how we build our world and how our world builds us. They both have a lot to say about our ancestral history and how our culture, biology, and physiology intermingle to create our present and future. 

Berry laments the loss of the America where the economy built on small family farms was annihilated by factory farming, where a handful of corporations control agriculture through machinery, mass production, and food marketing. How that has fundamentally changed food, work, family, the environment, our health and our culture. 

Think about the word ‘husband’. It’s built up of the Norse roots, hus meaning house, and bondi meaning occupier or tiller of soil. 

That’s why they call it animal husbandry, it is the care, cultivation, management, and conservation of animals and resources entrusted to one's care.

The nurture and care for the earth and its creatures is something entrusted to us even in our wedding vows, the oldest and longest lived contract humans have with each other. We house (hus) each other in the shelter of our care. It is our oldest responsibility. 

Berry was a college professor who gave up his position to become a farmer in Kentucky where he uses horses to plow land. 

Why horses?

Because they don’t compact the earth, like a tractor, to the point where seeds struggle to sprout, but instead gently loosen the soil and breathe air into it.

Because their manure adds the lively microbes that keep it healthy and alive. 

 Because we have a responsibility to the earth and the life on it to live within our means in a connected balance. Not simply to plunder and ravage. 

Because he knows that animals and machines are not interchangeable.

Though this book was written in the 70s, it has an alarming resonance with what is happening today as we hurdle towards a world where machines are poised to be poets and people are swept aside as easily as scrap metal and spare parts. 

Berry’s is a connective mind, a collaborative mind, a problem solver’s mind, a philosopher’s mind, a farmer’s mind. He sees the connections and relationships between things. In a world keen on dissecting and separating. He tends to marry concepts together in such a poetic way it achieves a wholeness that fills me up. 

I’m tired of fragmentation and life without context. Especially in my work.

Farming isn’t just something you do, it’s your entire way of life. And that’s how most of humanity lived for thousands of years. People worked at home, both men and women. That’s not really a new concept. What is a new concept is the idea of “work life balance”. We like to think there is a split between work and life. We create work spaces and cultures removed from personal lives. But personal lives always seep into work and work always seeps into personal lives. We are sold the idea that we work hard and take what we can for ourselves while we can so we can retire and not work anymore. 

We make work a drudgery to be escaped. 

This drudgery includes growing and cooking our own food, so we are told. And now with AI we don’t even have to write our own letters or paint our own paintings. 

So what do we do?

What do we do with this one wild and precious life, as Mary Oliver once asked?

We are alive because we have energy, or “the ability to do work” as in “exert force on another object” as a physicist would tell you. Life/energy and work are literally the same thing. You can’t really divorce yourself from what you do all day. It shapes you.

Not just the work, but the physical environment. 

“Buildings have been man’s companions since primeval times…Architecture has never been idle. Its history is more ancient than that of any other art, and its claim to being a living force has significance in every attempt to comprehend the relationship of the masses to art.” 

- Walter Benjamin “The Role of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction.”

Colin Ellard is a professor of neuroscience at the University of Waterloo. He specializes in the study of how places, architecture, technology, and nature impact our minds, bodies, and culture. 

His book was a thrilling look into the impact homes, cities, and natural spaces have on our minds and bodies. 

Boring and unstimulating places can actually cause people to engage in risk taking and negative behaviors. They create undue stress on the mind and body. Having open, orderly, and pleasing/stimulating designs can create trust and openness. Maybe even creativity. That is the role of beauty in our lives. It’s inspiring. It’s life affirming. 

I’ve talked about this theme before; having been a housesitter for so long, I know that different houses bring out different dimensions of my personality. Some make me feel safe and cozy and willing to engage with new and challenging things. 

Others make me feel intimidated or on edge, risk averse and low energy.

It’s no different for work environments like offices. 

Ellard paints the example of how a German philosopher, Heidegger, wrote some of his more profound works in a little hut in the woods. Much of the imagery of his writings is shaped by his surroundings. Ellard proclaims “his work was enmeshed in the environment of the place where he wrote… in a way, Heidegger’s hut was the philosopher.” 

Heidegger’s son, when visiting the hut where his father wrote, said “he is still alive here as far as I’m concerned.”

The city is not our ancestral home. Our genes can feel it. For many, the city is not even where we live. We commute long distances to get to work, clock in, clock out, and then commute back home. And many cities and living spaces are not designed to be beautiful or compatible with our physiology, but some people, like Ellard, are trying to change that. They are studying how to construct cities and works spaces to create healthier and more human environments. 

Both Berry and Ellard warn against the mismanagement of emerging technologies. Many billionaires and investors are now flocking to “responsive housing technology” or smart houses. These houses or buildings would use biometric data and heat and cool your home, adjust lighting, and more. 

Like most people trying to take your money and your autonomy, the sell will be the conveniences. Isn’t it great that you don’t have to deal with the banality of adjusting your own heat or lights? But what you will give up is the immense amounts of data these companies will collect from you and sell. 

Just like Meta and Google steal data and content from artists and use it to train their AI. 

I hate what these companies are doing to artists and creators. It’s not fair that they make money off of work they didn’t do. I hate that these people hide behind their technology and act as if they are slaves to progress. The AI is not, in fact, the one doing the stealing and interpreting, it is the men and women behind its programming. 

And if now corporations and machines would like personhood, shouldn’t they be held accountable for their actions, just like a person would?

 I honestly feel a little bad for the types of people that are drawn to AI art. Art really is about the creation process. The end result is a fun by-product, but it’s hardly the point. Not to an artist. It’s about problem solving and expression. It’s about communion with the subject of your attention and focus and the time it was constructed. 

If AI steals my style, I’ll come up with a new one. Because that’s what art is about - forging on and experimenting. It’s about play. 

It’s about the doing. Not about escaping it. 

Oddly enough, Jordan Peterson, not someone I thought I would have a lot in common with, has a little rant about why the humanities are important, especially now. I’ll link it here so you can take a listen. It really sums up what I feel is the point of art in our society. Artists solve problems. They contend with the unknown and make sense of it.  

You want a bridge built, you need an architect who can not only draw, but anticipate potential risks and future issues. And you’ll need them to make it beautiful, because you want people to actually enjoy using it and feel safe being on it. An imaginative mind as well as a constructive one. And most likely one that takes into account the particular environment and community. The economic value of minds like this is incalculable. And yet we think art is just a frivolous pursuit or just pretty pictures. 

The other thing most people tell me is that you can’t make money as an artist. 

So why is it that these companies are stealing all this art? Why are they training their AIs to be artists?

It’s because there’s so much money in it! 

Most artists are just the types that don’t value money much, but there are so many people who make a good living as artists. It’s not easy and it’s not a clear cut path. It’s one you forge yourself, a path less taken. But if you do it right, it’s very lucrative. You just can’t be shit at it. Most other jobs you can get away with being kinda shitty. Not at art. 

You have to be able to tell a story, make people laugh, or make them cry, or inspire them. And you have to be able to do it again and again. You either can or you can’t. That’s why art is hard. Not because it’s not lucrative. 

So why am I going on and on about this? Well, I think, for the first time in my life, I’ve found out how to mesh my work and life. I’ve found a way to work partly from home, use my art and writing skills, and combine it with sustainable farming and community. 

I’m starting a new job this week! It’s with the Seattle Neighborhood Farmers Market Association as a Graphic Design and Marketing Manager. It’s full time, year round, with full benefits. 

I’ll be doing artwork and copywriting, marketing, fundraising, and doing interviews in the field all in the hopes of expanding food access for those in need and increasing education and support for those growing delicious, nutritious whole foods locally. It’s all about creating a more delicious sustainable place to live. Because where we live is who we are in so many ways.

I will continue to work as manager for the Redmond Saturday Market as well because it has been such an uplifting experience for me and I love the friends I’ve made there. 

I’m very excited and nervous about this new chapter of life. Thank you to all of you who have supported me through the years. It truly does take a village.

I’d like to finish by saying that both Berry and Ellard, despite their weariness about technology, also acknowledge and honor the benefits of these technologies. 

Humans are not really human without our tools. 

Our tools are important and even sacred.

I treat my paint brushes like magic wands. My phone lives in my pocket. And I spend a lot of time in my car. It’s been through a lot with me. Having penicillin is nice, and my washing machine saves me a lot of time. I’ll even admit that AI has some really amazing uses, especially in the medical field. But what we can’t afford to do is let machines and tools and greed disrupt the balance between progress and responsibility.

Simply moving forward blindly is not progress, that’s a stampede.  

“It can only make us imperialist invaders of our own country” (Berry, 172)

If God where a gardener

“In forty years of medical practice, I have found only two types of non-pharmaceutical ‘therapy’ to be vitally important for patients with chronic neurological diseases: Music and gardens.”

• Oliver Sacks

“Meaning is not something you stumble across, like the answer to a riddle…Meaning is something you build into your life. You build it out of your own past, out of your affections and loyalties, out of the experience of humankind as it is passed on to you, out of your own talent and understanding, out of the things you believe in, out of the things and people you love, out of the values for which you are willing to sacrifice something.” 

• John Gardner 

“In some ways suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds a meaning, such as the meaning of a sacrifice.”

― Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning

“…Wanting good government in their states, they first established order in their own families; wanting order in their home, they first disciplined themselves…”

• Confucius, The Great Digest

“Man jeetheh, jag jeeth. Master yourself, you’ll have conquered the world.” 

• Guru Nanak, Jap Ji Sahib, Sikh Prayer 

You can fail at something you hate.

Jim Carrey said this in an interview once and it haunted me for years. His father was a funny man as well and wanted to pursue comedy, but was too scared to; he had a family to care for. He took the safe route and worked as an accountant in a office for many years despite hating it. Then the company laid him off without warning. No longer able to afford to make their house payments, their whole family ended up living in their car for a period of time.

He had taken the safe route and still failed.

It was after listening to this interview during my lunch break at a job that didn’t afford me growth or even enough money to live sustainably that I consciously decided that I would pursue art seriously. This was about 3 or 4 years ago.

If I was going to fail, it was going to be at something I loved.

Since then I have done my best to study as much as I can while working odd jobs to support myself.

It’s not easy to take care of aging parents, work, job hunt, and juggle my duties to my house-sitting clients and my managing duties at the market. Especially in a country that seems to think health care is a luxury. But I have persisted in my path towards a life more in tune with my values.

This year I have had the chance to sell my prints at The Redmond Saturday Market. It’s such a lovely community and I have received such a warm reception from vendors and customers. I’ve sold more prints than I ever thought I would.

I can’t wait to see what will happen next. I’m working on several projects I hope to be able to share soon.

I wish I had the courage to never have stopped making art. I have been drawing and writing stories since I was little, but was met with a barrage of questions I never had the answer to.

What will you do with an art degree? How will you make money? Is art essential? You should do something useful.

I started to doubt myself and my abilities and settled for more “practical jobs”.

I think I’ve made this much clear before in previous letters that humans are not a rational creature. We are a meaning making creature. Meaning is something you feel. No one dies by suicide because they are hungry, they do die when they are lonely. Loneliness is a symptom of meaninglessness and lack of purpose. I’ve said this before. We were not made for ourselves alone.

Art is what bridges that gap between us. It is the thing that makes loneliness dissapear.

I once made a portrait of a friend who passed away and it was so special to the family. I’ve seen pet portraits I’ve made bring people to tears. It helped them honor a friend. It helped them heal. It brought them joy. I can’t think of many things more powerful than that.

Art is a way to see the world. A way to slow down time. A way to remember and worship.

But the world worships money, forgetting that money was to be a servant, not a god.

When I spent a summer in India as a teenager, I stayed in my paternal grandmother’s house, the one my grandfather built. I would wake up at 4:30 in the morning as the sunlight was just starting to break, the peacocks were calling, and the morning prayers were starting at the temple, all in glorious harmony with each other. 

After showering and getting dressed my grandma and I would walk down to the temple together along with anyone else who wanted to join. We would all sit together as the smell of food being prepped in the kitchen wafted down the street. Sikhs donate and collect ingredients and supplies for the temple and cook and eat together so that even someone who may not have food at home can still fill their and their children’s bellies at the communal kitchen for free.

No one has to start the day hungry if they do not wish it. And no one has to start it alone. 

Some may see that as a hand out - I call it basic human decency. 

Anyone who ate at that kitchen was giving back, in some way or another, what they could for taking what they needed. Humans are very reciprocal creatures. When someone does us a kindness, we want to repay it. (As is true when someone does us a disservice, we want to repay that as well. Isn’t that so?) 

Grandma left the gate open so people could pop in and out for tea as they pleased during visiting hours. 

There was no air conditioning and afternoons were blazing hot so we would hunker down on cots and wait out the sun. This was the quietest part of the day - even quieter than night. Books were good company in the afternoons. As were my sketchbooks and journals.

Then as the day started to cool, life would return to the village as people finished remaining tasks.

I would watch as my aunt helped my little cousins with homework and listen to my uncle recount his day on the farm.

The evening prayers would fade into the air as the last bit of sunlight would.

It feels like an odd declaration in an era like this, but I miss religion. 

It has nothing to do with belief in a god or not.

It has to do with the belief that we have duties to each other and the earth from which we are a function of. I suppose it’s about responsibility. The responsibility to discipline oneself enough to be able to help others.

I liked having meditation built into my routine. It was steadying. As reassuring as a school bell. The prayers were accompanied with music so you were privy to two or more free orchestra sessions a day. There’s nothing like live music. It was healing. Even western societies will now freely laud the many neurological and physiological benefits of meditation. It fills you with gratitude and purpose for the day ahead.

There was hard work to do, but it didn’t destroy you. Maybe it even nourished you. Work on the farm felt so essential and real. Connected. I loved being around the plants and animals and family.

I understand we can’t all go back to an agrarian lifestyle, but I hope we can still imbed in ourselves the old spirit of tending to each other and the planet with a strong integrity. To live life as it were on purpose and not some unconcious instinct.

To recognize one’s own power and influence, negative or positive on the world, might be one of the hardest things to do.

In a culture that worships money, we expect to be treated like consumers, not active citizens. We expect to be sold on deals and conveniences. We expect saviors or tyrants that promise us ease and convenient answers to complex problems. We out source responsibilty in the name of specialization saying “that’s not my job”.

We forget what all of this convenience truly costs.

I think if more people learned to see the world as an artist, they would see how to simplify the complex in a meaningful way. Simplicity does not mean easy. There is nothing easy about art.

It means clarity.

It means a supreme wonder at the impossibility of being.

A desperate aching for all of the destruction.

A deep need to capture the beauty of what is and to share it.

A pull to create something better.

In India, people believe that God exists in us all. It’s the part of us that does service for those around us. It lives in symbiosis. It’s indistinguishable from the the creation.

Sacred Soil

“The soil is the great connector of lives, the source and destination of all. It is the healer and restorer and resurrector, by which disease passes into health, age into youth, death into life. Without proper care for it we can have no community, because without proper care for it we can have no life.”

• Wendell Berry, The Unsettling of America: Culture and Agriculture

“I am time, destroyer of all things.”

• Krishna, The Bhagavad Gita

“Curving back within myself I create again and again.”

• Krishna, The Bhagavad Gita

Out of the deathly silence of winter comes the melodious unfurling of spring. The earth rises up from within herself, having made friends with destruction.

The compost pile out back, bolstered by chicken manure, has broken down and become a sweet earthy mulch. Though it might look like decay, when I look closely, I can see the life hidden there - the small grubs and worms wriggling through it. And I know the microbes have been working hard. Despite not being able to see them, I see evidence of their work - these tiny elves that work through the night, releasing the old material from its prior form, ready to take on a new life. 

The sunflower seeds I saved from my garden last year have been planted in my little make-shift nursery. Four days after being put in the soil, they are already blooming.

Sunflowers are such wondrous things. There are millions planted around Fukushima to help draw out toxins from the soil post nuclear meltdown. They take in toxicity and exude radiance. When given good healthy soil, they are even more spectacular. I hope to have a yard full of them this year.

I think I like them so much because they are a reminder that not all flowers are fragile. And that it's possible to survive and bring joy and health to others in less than ideal circumstances. Plants give so much.

They also feel like an embodiment of the fact that we are all borrowed sunlight. 

I've been thinking about energy a lot lately.  

I spent several years feeling like an old helium balloon, floating through life at half mast.

The more I talked to my friends, the more I realized I wasn’t alone. 

There are countless reasons we are always drained. So many responsibilities, so many distractions, so few safety nets. 

After talking with my parents about village life, I realized that they had worries, distractions, and hard labor to do too. What’s changed is that they used to live walking distances from everyone they loved. They regularly were working with animals, eating fresh food they grew, and giving back to their small communities. They could see the impact of their work. They could taste it. And they could see and feel the soil that nourished them. The soil they would one day return to.

As Werner Herzog says, “the world reveals itself to those who walk on foot.” The village was built for walking. It was built for people - not cars. No drive thrus, drive bys, or freeways. It was built to go at the pace of life. It was built to connect people and nature. It was built to restore energy.

All life on earth is eating sunlight, whether directly or by eating something that does. Alas, we can’t photosynthesize. We have bacterial cells that have fused with our human cells called mitochondria. They help us convert whatever we eat into adenosine triphosphate or ATP - a fuel our cells can use to carry out their various functions. These mitochondria work best when they are getting proper food and rest. 

I tried everything from resting and changing my diet to exercising and cutting out alcohol. I'm sleeping better, meditating and gardening. I even went so far as to only eat bread I bake myself and eating fewer processed foods. I quit several jobs I hated so I could do more things I loved and get new skills so I could live more aligned with my values. I always make time for friends and family because I know how much their energy rejuvenates me. 

It's had wonderful effects on my health. But I would still have strange flare ups of skin rashes and lethargy. I recently learned that one of the creams my dermatologist had perscibed to me had hydrocotisone in it. A corticosteroid.

One consequence of using topical steroids is withdrawal (TSW). It can dry out and thin your skin. It can mess up your hormone function as it injects you with cortisol. It can mess up your adrenal response. It can cause red scaly sores on your skin. It can sap you of your energy. 

All my flare ups were not my original mild itchy winter skin. It was a withdrawal from the drug my doctor had so cavalierly given me with no instructions or words of caution. At least drug lords have the decency to not hide their recklessness beneath white coats.

I'm not even mad at this point. I'm just so sick of America's health care system. It's not about healing and working with our bodies or understanding people holistically.  It's about quickly suppressing symptoms with outrageously concentrated drugs that are often worse than the ailment.

Just like our food system is a synthetic nutrient delivery system that has no regard for animal, human, or environmental welfare. 

Any individual can only get so healthy in a society designed to make you sick. 

You can only have so much energy in a society designed to drain you.

I'm grateful for this experience because the lack of energy in my body and the lack of meaning in my work led me to reimagine my life and create a more balanced way to move forward. I’ve continued returning to a simpler life. The more I look, the more I see that there are people all over the planet returning to a more mindful life that lives in harmony with both our bodily and environmental ecosystems. It’s nice to see everyone doing what they can to make a difference. We are capable of more than we think once we start living consciously.

People like Alice Waters, Michael Pollan, and Ron Finley really inspire me when it comes to reimaging society. I highly recommend checking out their work if you’re interested. I first heard about Ron Finley a few years ago on Simon Sinek’s podcast. I was so excited to hear about what he was doing. I finally got to see his Masterclass on gardening and loved seeing what he had created.

The city of LA had arrested him for planting a garden in the parkways in his neighborhood and refusing to take it down. He fought the case and got the law changed. Now there are many community gardens all around his neighborhood. He has given away free food out of the gardens to anyone who wants it and has created a way for young and old to come together to create a better more wholesome environment for themselves. He is a soil rejuvenator. A system changer. A reminder that gardening is gangster.

I’m even more determined to seek understanding of the systems we live in and create a more symbiotic and sustainable connection to all that's around and within us. We can choose a different way. We can curve back within ourselves and create something better. Even if it’s just in our backyards.

We must tend to the soil of our society, out of which all of us grow. 

Let’s be sunflowers. Let's start over. Let's do spring.

For my Girls

“I don’t like knowing people in the context of things. "Oh, that’s the person I work out with. That’s the person I’m in a book club with. That’s the person I did that show with." Because once the context ends, so does the friendship…I yearn to know the people I love deeply and intimately—without context, without boxes—and I yearn for them to know me that way, too.”

“I was conditioned to believe any boundary I wanted was a betrayal of my mom, so I stayed silent. Cooperative.”

“I'm becoming an angry person with no tolerance for anyone. I'm aware of this shift and yet have no desire to change it. If anything, I want it. It's armor. It's easier to be angry than to feel to pain underneath it.”

“I'm trying every day to face myself. The results vary, but the attempts are consistent.”

“Writing feels inherently real.”

― Jennette McCurdy, I'm Glad My Mom Died

“The indifferent orange rays of the year

dipping into the horizon,

slowly then all at once,

then the relentless beginning

of the new one always leaves me melancholy.

Maybe it’s because each new day begins in the dark.

I’m dreaming of all that’s left to do.

And mourning what’s been done.

Is it sad that this feeling is the most familiar one I have? My most consistent companion. I always cycle back to this. It lives in my bones like a ghost with unfinished business. I am a walking haunted house.

Womanhood is merciless in the sense that we can never walk away from consequence. Our bodies carry our unborn children in the form of eggcells since before our births. We bleed them out every month. And if one sticks, we pass on our experiences to our children in altered genomes. Even before we’ve had the opportunity to actively fuck them up.

The horror of genocide and abandoning a homeland aside, the plight of the Indian woman immigrant of my mother’s generation was a desperate one. A lonely one. I feel this desperation woven into every stitch of myself.

I’ve been thinking about motherhood a lot.

For a few years now. I think women have to actively decide pretty early on whether they’re going to, as Mike Birbiglia’s dad would say, “Zig or Zag”.

It’s not until you are standing face to face with this decision that you can fully appreciate it’s magnitude.

Either way, you’re going to have to grieve a part of yourself.

The choice you don’t make.

The life you won’t lead.

The future you have to bury.

I decided a few years ago that I would not be having children. There are too many horrors in me that I can’t inflict on an innocent. There are too many un-lived dreams in me for me to sacrifice. I spent my whole life taking care of my parents and their emotional needs. I want for my adulthood to be about nurturing the broken part of me that wants so very much to heal.

I unfortunately was never good at multi-tasking. I applaud those who can.

Nature parcels a profound sense of meaning and motivation in the form of a child. Those of us who refrain must search even more purposefully for a sense of meaning strong enough to sustain us. For me, my healing is that purpose. If I heal and can be strong and do what is in my true nature well, then I will have made a difference.

Jeanette McCurdy’s book, I’m Glad My Mom Died, helped me explore my relationship with motherhood in an interesting way.

Jeanette’s mom was way more troubled than my own mom. But abuse and neglect have some parallels that are easily translatable. I felt like I could really understand where Jeanette was coming from. Children are so in tune to their parents and will often times become the caregiver for an infantile or depressive parent.

I know from experience that children will learn that they have to do life alone and that their needs won’t be met pretty early on in neglectful households. By doing this they suppress a huge part of themselves and sacrifice their childhoods. It follows them like a shadow into their adult relationships filling them with undue anxiety and unhealthy attachments.

In Jeanette’s case, she continually molded herself to her mom’s whims and manic requests and lived like a stranger in her own body. She suppressed her fear, her anger. Her joy.

She just wanted to make her mom happy. She wanted to be a good girl. Her body couldn’t hide her loss of control and inauthentic lifestyle for long and she became anorexic and later bulemic due to her mother’s obsession with keeping her small and childlike and thus marketable to Nikelodeon as a child star.

Women and girls’ bodies are so commercial. They are sold to us. They stop belonging to themselves to sit upon these shelves of capitalism.

Dr. Gabor Mate, renowned addiction and disease expert, often talks about how suppressed emotions become diseases later. The body always keeps the score. People who are caregivers or abused as children always have a price to pay for it in terms of strange bodily maladies and auto immune diseases when the body turns on itself.

Our society manufactures diseased humans and animals en masse and we are moving too fast to truly change.

Women account for almost 80% of autoimmune diseases reported.

We are not allowed to express our emotions or humanity without cost.

That’s why I love Jeanette for channeling her emotions so powerfully and openly and not shying away from some hard truths.

Jeanette tells her story with a sense of humor and strong voice she had to actively earn after her mother died. She had to save her self from the trap she had been born into.

She also made me realize just how complex our relationships with our mothers are. You can love someone, understand their shortcomings, appreciate their struggles, but still hate what they did to you.

And that you can very much make different choices than they did.

It made me realize that being a good and kind person who is authentic to themselves, is in fact, the hardest thing to keep doing consistently. Especially in this frantic society that takes so much and gives so little.

Dr. Mindy Pelz blew my mind. I know the countless benefits to fasting from weightloss to rebalancing your immune system and dopamine system. But I didn’t know that women should fast according to our menstrual/hormone cycles.

I think we tend to associate a lot of negative things like moodiness and rage with estrogen. Or we tend to see it as very delicate and sensitive.

The funny thing is, it is the lack of estrogen that causes moodiness and physical alterations.

Estrogen helps bones be strong, helps the brain stay clear, it helps us be emotionally resilient, and helps boost Growth Hormone so we can have more energy and heal quickly.

This is why post menopausal women lose bone density and hair and face other bizzarre and traumatic changes.

This hormone keeps us alive and thriving.

I learned that certain times of the month we can fast longer and eat high fat and high protein diets that keep insulin low to help our bodies produce optimal levels of estrogen. And then there’s a peak time of month when we have estrogen, testosterone and progesterone and are gifted with extreme mental clarity and energy. (This is something no man will ever experience. Imagine society collectively embracing this energy. It is a resource.) This is a good time for tackling tough or highly creative challenges. And to increase your workout routine.

There are times of the month when we need a high carb diet to help us produce progesterone to help shed our uterine lining and to ease discomfort. This is the time of the month when you should rest and nurture yourself so you can replenish. (Something that our society discourages. Resist that. Rest is rebellion as much as it is restoration.)

I learned how cortisol is detrimental to hormone production and how oxytocin can counteract cortisol.

Oxytocin is the cuddle hormone. Or the bonding hormone. You get it when you laugh at a joke, hug someone, have sex, masturbate, or have a stimulating conversation where you feel connected to someone.

So make that phone call to your friend. Go for a walk with your sister. Play with the dog. Light some candles and have a snugglefest with your partner. You could be saving your life.

It can reverse the effects of stress and encourage your body to run at its peak.

Half the book is science and strategy. The other half is recipes.

Why didn’t someone tell me about this earlier? A gentle step by step how to on how to approach your best life as a woman. Even if your pre or post menopausal.

If you’re a woman - read this.

If you’re a man - do yourself a favor and read this too. It will help you so much in your relationships with women to understand our biology a bit more.

I know this might have been a bit of a downer, but I’m actually quite motivated this year. I have many projects brewing. I’m excited to share them with you in the coming months.

I’m going to leave you with a poem from LeAnn Rimes:

Woman, there is great power in your cyclical nature, for we are nature itself. We, like nature, create life and live by nature’s rhythms.The soft animal that is your truest nature knows this at the deepest level.

Our job is to remember, to strip away the layers of societal conditioning and interference, the image of the “good girl,” and come home to our most natural textures and rhythms. Every orgasmic joy, every primal scream, every gut instinct, every deep sorrow and wail of grief, every moment of surrender to rest, the shedding of the old, every ounce of our creative power is to be allowed, honored, and again made sacred.

You are sacred. Not only in your brightest light, but also in your darkening. Your greatest power lies in the flowing with your rhythm and surrendering the fight against nature, your nature. Because in the end, Mother Nature alwasy wins. Our choice lies in whether or not we choose to assist in her unfolding.

Remember to rest. And remember, to do life on your terms.

Pecking Orders

“Collective fear stimulates herd instinct, and tends to produce ferocity toward those who are not regarded as members of the herd.”

“It has been said that man is a rational animal. All my life I have been searching for evidence which could support this.”

“Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and the unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind.” - Bertrand Russell

The relationship between time and experience always baffles me. It’s only been a bit more than a month since I wrote last, but what a does that mean? How much time can one month hold?

I guess Einstein would tell you that it’s all relative.

I feel here are those moments that contain infinities in them.

The moments that seem to either blow open new possibilities or create craters in the mind so deep that it takes a lifetime to crawl back out.

If you have the time, I would ask that you hold your breath for 35 seconds and imagine that you’re in an earthquake. You can hear screaming, but you can’t move. You can hear everything you own falling and smashing to bits. You can feel the foundation of your home crack open and the walls meant to protect you now become your tomb. You know no one is coming for you anytime soon.

Now imagine this continues not for 35 seconds, but for 35 days.

That’s how long Israel has been bombing Palestine.

I’m no expert in geopolitical relations and I will not burden you with my opinions here. All I want is to tell you a story about what happened with my flock of chickens this month.

Chickens are very territorial and have a very complicated pecking order. Disturbances can lead to stress, aggression, and death.

My flock now consists of 4 adult hens and 2 young hens or pullets.

I purchased the two young ones after I re-homed my two roosters. (They were a surprise and forbidden within city limits so off they went to the country.)

I kept the chicks separate from the big girls until they were old enough to hold their own as introducing them too young is risky.

I’ve raised all my older girls since they were a day old and there is nothing threatening about them in my eyes. They all have their own personalities and are often tender and affectionate with me and each other.

But as they grew, I noticed that transgressions in social norms would be met with displays of aggression. Bluebell, the smallest, would often be picked on by Poppy, the Jersey Giant, if she tried to eat before Poppy ate.

It’s hard to watch any of your babies bullying the others. There were a few times that I had to step in to prevent feathers being pulled out.

The same thing happened when the two new girls were introduced - despite having had exposure to each other from behind a fence, when I let the little ones loose, the big girls raised up their hackles and chased them. Juniper was the most unsettled.

June had started off as the youngest and smallest member of the flock, but has grown to be the largest hen I have in my flock. And she has grown to be a bit of menace to anyone who gets in her way.

I had to sepparate her from the other girls for a day and night. She seemed sad and stressed. She is still a social creature and being away from her sisters is hard for her.

I then picked her up and carried her around in my arms like a feathery football for about 40 minutes. I soothed her, I talked to her and pet her. She fell asleep in my arms. When I released her, she did not chase or attack anyone. She just started pecking and grazing with the others, albeit with a little distance between them.

She still pecks here and there and the little girls have not been allowed to spend the night in the big coop yet as they’re still growing, but I have noticed that with kind leadership and firm interventions, the flock is slowly becoming more accustomed to each other and we have seen fewer instances of violence and bickering as the month has gone on.

I’m still a firm believer in diplomacy as long as the diplomat has the right heart and understanding of her charges.

I love all my girls so instead of focusing on punishment, I have focused on structure and guidance. I make sure they all have their own food bowl and plenty of space to run around in case someone does get chased. And I monitor during free ranging as much as possible.

If I had denied their nature and pretended that everything would work itself out, there might have been blood spilt.

If I had punished them ruthlessly, I would have lost their trust and not mended anything within the flock. In fact, I might have stoked their aggression.

I wrestled with some complicated feelings while witnessing all this. Winnie would jump into my lap and hide from Juniper, cowering and shaking - refusing to leave my side. How could I keep in mind that Juniper, despite being Winnie’s tormentor, was still one of my girls. Juniper is often the first to come greet me and jump onto my shoulder to nuzzle.

It’s often hard to hold in your mind and heart these conflicting feelings of dissapointment, disgust/confusion, grief, and love. But we must learn to hold on to the complex. It’s when we start to give into the simple, the easy, the seeming clarity that rage and fear provide us, that we become monsters ourselves.

The books I read this month:

1. Never Split the Difference - On a rainy afternoon, I walked into The Paper Boat bookstore in West Seattle and asked for a few books. This was the first. It had been recommended to me by someone during a job interview. I ended up getting a different job, but the conversation I had with the owner and founder of Black Forest Mushrooms was fascinating and made for a very memorable interview. This book is not at all what I expected. I thought it would be a show of force and sneaky strategies used to manipulate people. I can’t tell you how many times Jack gave me a wary look when he saw me reading this. What I found is that former FBI hostage negotiator, Chris Voss is quite skilled at the art of listening and cultivating empathy. Turns out that if you want a terrorist to cooperate with you, you have to still treat him like a person.

   To understand is not to condone.

   And influencing is not the same as manipulation.

   I very much enjoyed being absorbed in all the stories Voss shares and techniques he goes over.

2. The 48 Laws of Power - This is the second book I bought that rainy day. I don’t know what the clerk ringing me up must have thought.
   
   I told her I promised that I wasn’t up to anything nefarious.

   The fact that I felt I needed to defend myself while purchasing this demonstrates the mistrust and fear that tends to surround this word. We all want to be powerful, but none of us want to admit we want power.
   
   I had wanted to read this for a long time. Then I heard an interview with the author, Robert Greene, and I knew I couldn’t delay it anymore.
   
   Greene wrote this book when he himself was pretty powerless and broke. He had experienced a lot in his many travels and jobs and wanted to write a book about power, not to necessarily create a how to guide, but to help other powerless people like him learn how to defend themselves from being taken advantage of.
   
   He uses examples from history to demonstrate his maxims.
   
   I’m not completely done with it yet, but have gotten a lot to think about.

The Chicken Cathedral

“Every spirit builds itself a house, and beyond that house, a world, and beyond its world a heaven. Know then that the world exists for you. Build, therefore, your own world.”

“Regard it as just as desireable to build a chicken house as to build a cathedral.”

-Frank Lloyd Wright

Hello there,

I’m sorry for not writing more this summer, but life was happening and I was, for the first time in a while, truly immersed in its happening. Writing requires a step back and I’m only now starting to do that again.

I’m turning 32 tomorrow so I’ve been mulling things over. The quotes by Frank Lloyd Wright about the spirit constructing a world for itself and that the act of building is somehow divine really rung true for me.

We are all architects of our own lives.

Building the chicken coop was a physical manifestation of me re-constructing my old life. I took a broken down old coop and made it something entirely different. Functional, safe, and warm. And even beautiful.

The girls are only now starting to lay eggs. It was a breathtaking experience to sit with Bluebell as her body did something new and completely miraculous. She worked so hard and was quite proud of herself. After seeing what it takes to produce, I’ll never take another egg for granted again. All the construction, the predator proofing, the time spent and money spent on food and supplies is well worth it. Not just for the eggs that are unlike any egg I’ve gotten at the store, but for the companionship and trust of these wonderous creatures.

I think, in the spirit of Frank Lloyd Wright, I have become a chicken worshipper. To me it’s the worship of nature, the worship of slowing down and healing, the worship of family and food, the worship of the spirit of all the creatures it takes to make this world work. The worship of creating.

I’m starting to job hunt again and to look for ways to engage with the world in a more meaningful way while making a living. I hope that in a few months from now, I’ll have created more of my world. And that I’ll be proud of it.

Have fun building.

Love,

Gia

Channeling Your inner rooster

“We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time. - TS Elliot

“What you realize is you go back to your girlhood and you become all the things she was supposed to be that you never knew at the time was really who she was because you were trying to be what other people thought she should be.” - Jane Fonda

“What we have to remember is that we can still do anything. We can change our minds. We can start over.” - Marina Keegan, The Opposite of Loneliness

“ For it’s always that way with the sacred value of life. We forget it as long as it belongs to us, and give it as little attention during the unconcerned hours of our life as we do the stars in the light of day. Darkness must fall before we are aware of the majesty of the stars above our heads.” - Stefan Zweig

“People have forgotten this truth," the fox said. "But you mustn’t forget it. You become responsible forever for what you’ve tamed.” ― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

What I’m finding is we are constantly refining our childhoods. At least, I am.

Healing the hurt. Revising the meaning. Revisiting the dreams.

In 2015, I read Marina Keegan’s, The Opposite of Loneliness. It was a collection of stories, essays and poems Marina had written before the age of 22. She never wrote any more because she was killed in a car accident 2 days after graduating from Yale.

Her haunting writings and story really made me rethink what was possible. In her empassioned graduation speech she made to her fellow graduates, she reminded them that it was never too late to start over. To be someone different. To try something new.

I sorely needed this reminder from beyond the grave as I graduated. The adult world can be so callous, especially in a culture that does not value collectivism, creativity, or rest as much as it should.

After reading her book, I made a vow to myself that I would never let my fears stop me from starting over or trying new things. I would not let the expectations of others or the constraints of society dictate my worth or choices. And I would never take the time I had left for granted.

I would cherish every breath, be kind, and hope I got “enough time to be in love with everything.” As Marina had wanted.

I’ve definitely carved out time to do more of what I love with those I love. I’m happy to have prioritized them. To have cherished them. But no amount of time is truly enough. Not with those we love.

I lost my beloved pet and companion, my dog, Benny, this last week. On May 25th at 3:55 pm my precious puppy breathed his last and part of me died with him.

I’ve lost dogs before so I know how truly awful it can be. Awe-ful. Full of awe, that horrific mixture of reverance and fear. The extreme helplessness. The knowledge of finality. The emptiness that follows.

I had just never had to make the decision to euthanize an animal before. Our pups had always released their earthly forms in private at home. But Benny was struggling as his liver and kidneys failed and his body slowly shut down. He had maintained so much vigor and energy right up until the end so I was surprised to see how quickly it all progressed, he declined rapidly. Within 24 hours, he was an empty husk just struggling for breath. None of the fluids that the vet injected interveniously were being accepted by his body.

I spent one horrific night with him as he desperately tried to keep water down and failed, vomiting it up minutes after ingesting it. He refused to come back in the house as he hated throwing up inside. Prim and proper til the very end. My sweet boy was always courteous. The next morning I rushed him to the first vet that opened that would take him. I got there at 8am. They told me I would have to make some choices. I could send him to and ER where just one day of care and testing would be 5000 dollars. I considered this but seeing as his body was not accepting the fluids and knowing how much he hated being away from home, I knew this would just be prolonging his suffering.

I made a euthanasia appointment for 3:30pm that very same day and brought him home for the day until my sister could get off work at 2. He lay in the grass under the shade of our tree with pink and white flower petals falling like snow around him. Me and my parents sat out there and sang to him. We gently massaged his cramping muscles and soothed him through is labored breaths. He tried to lift his head when he heard my sister’s voice as she arrived at 2:30. It broke our hearts.

My sister and I were the ones to bring him home back in 2011. We picked him out and carried him home. It felt only fitting that we both be there to say goodbye.

After I finished paying all the vet fees, they brought us into the the little office space where they admisitered the euthansia. It happens so fast and yet takes forever at the same time. I fear that part of me might be stuck in that room for all time, trying to reverse the moment.

There’s this horrible guilt that plagues you. Is there anything more I could have done? Did I spend enough time with him? Did he know how good of a boy he was? I shouldn’t have scolded him that one time. I should have given him different supplements. I should have paid closer attention.

It takes a while to forgive yourself. To settle into the fact that your responsibility to him is over. You saw it through.

It’s been very hard to be home without him. 12 years of memories greet me at the door instead of him. His abscense sleeps in my bed instead of him.

It’s almost been 2 months since I last wrote. Since I quit my job. So very much has happened since then.

Jack and I went to Los Angeles to tour a regenerative farm. I got the chicks. I set up a garden. I watched the chicks and sprouts grow. I said goodbye to Benny.

I’m glad to not be working full time right now. It’s been nice to grieve at my own pace. And the market work is nice because it’s physical and meaningful. Work like that is good for grief. As is gardening. And the chicks. They are my therapy.

I recently read Tove Danovich’s Under the Henfluence and it has come to my attention that chickens have gotten some bad PR. Somehow our culture associates them with cowardice and low intelligence. “Stop being a chicken, bird brain!” “Bawk Bawk”. 

The funny thing is, chickens are and were known in many cultures as signs of new beginnings, confidence, bravery, and loyalty. What more symbolizes potential and beginnings than an egg? Aren’t they associated with Spring, Christ, and new life? 

Roosters will not only put their life on the line to protect their hens and chicks, they dutifully usher in the start of a new day and channel the optimism of starting fresh and early, as chickens are very industrious and hard workers. 

Roosters and hens both keep on alert for predators on the ground and in the sky and alert each other with distinct calls to make sure the flock stays protected. They work together to forage and stay safe. They huddle up together for naps and are very social. They are very loving and protective parents.  They can be trained and are often considered about as intelligent as a dog. They just don’t feel the need to please you the way a dog does. Maybe that has something to do with their lack of appeal to so many. 

Maybe it’s the noise or the manure (which is composting gold and only smells if managed poorly). Maybe it’s because we eat them so we have to do some cognitive distancing to make them seem less than so we don’t feel bad for seeing them as egg and meat producing machines. 

We do this with farm animals (and farmers themselves). We think they’re simple or less intelligent because they work with their hands. I can tell you, coming from a long line of farmers and having worked with farmers at the market, farmers are entrepreneurs, they are scientists, they are engineers, and they are chemists and biologists. More than anything, they are passionate and hardworking. And so are their animals. 

It’s bad business and our lack of understanding that has changed our perception. I think this is starting to change slowly as the small regenerative farm and backyard farm movements are taking off. 

I have always felt that what we eat and how we produce it is essential to the balance of life and the planet. What we do in our backyards matters just as much if not more than what happens out in the world. It’s the one place we actually have some control. Growing a small garden, raising chickens and eating more wholesome foods is my way of not only keeping myself healthy, but helping to keep other species thriving too.

Gallus Gallus Domesticus, or the standard American chicken, has come a long way from its wild jungle fowl ancestor. We’ve managed to take a bird that used to lay 15 eggs a year into one that lays upwards of 150-200 eggs a year. And they produce so much more meat than their leaner cousins. That’s an incredible feat that comes with some steep costs. These birds are much more prone to ovarian cancer, cysts and early death as they produce themselves to death in most industrial farms. The egg quality suffers as well. 

The average layer hen has its beak sliced off and is kept in a large building with thousands of other birds where they will never be able to freely forage or see the sun. They are worked to exhaustion and “retired” at about a year old as their egg production slows after the first year. Most of their carcasses are just disposed of unceremoniously. 

The backyard chicken, though often much more healthy with a higher quality of life, is not free from this truth. I picked up my first three chicks from the Co-Op. They came from a hatchery which means they were hatched in an industrial incubator away from their moms. This is significant because the sound of the mother’s heartbeat and clucking helps the neurological development of the chicks. And being with their mothers and sisters helps the chicks learn to be proper chicks. Chickens have a culture, much like crows do. They talk to each other in a way.

If it wasn’t bad enough separating babies from mothers, the worst part is, if the hatchery has too many chicks and less demand, they get tossed in a garbage bin and gassed or put through a wood chipper. That’s the problem with producing animals for profit. They are not seen as precious living things, but commodities to be used and disposed of.  

I’m happy to be able to give my girls a good life where they can be social, play, and forage. But it makes me sad to think that many of their mothers, aunts, sisters, and cousins were sent off to either their deaths or a life of slavery. 

My other three were given to me by a local farmer who hatches her own chicks. I got to meet their parents. The rooster was a giant and gorgeous Lavender Orpington. He was very gentle and affectionate with his hens. The hens were thriving and so beautiful. I’m excited to see the difference in the hatchery chicks versus the farm hatched ones. 

The girls have formed some strong bonds already and recognize me. I think they are starting to trust me. They respond to authority and confidence so I have to channel my inner rooster. I have to be confident, firm, and protective. 

It’s a lot of work raising babies of any sort. There’s something so liberating in playing with someone else’s baby pets and then walking off with no vet bills, no having to clean up or take them for walks or making sure they get fed on time. 

Having your own pet comes with this pressing responsibility and the fear of loss. You know the loss will come. Buying a baby animal is guaranteeing future heartbreak. But somehow it’s worth it. The girls have kept me busy and going. And after losing Benny, I am only too aware of my duty to them. Of the duty we have to all the critters we have tamed, both animal and human. Of what we owe each other.

I’ve always devoted my life to animals. They have come into my life in so many ways. Being a house sitter allowed me to serve people and pets in a new way. I lived out my childhood dream of making money while spending time with my animal friends. And now I have chickens. I was always trying to hatch my own flock out of grocery store eggs as a kid. I think there’s a little part in all of us that is drawn towards nature and animals. They fill up the empty pockets of our lives. They give us something to live for. And like I learned at Apricot Lane Farms this April, they all play a part in the ecosystem. We all do.

I will take time to grieve and heal. I will honor my beloved Benny and honor my commitment to my critters. I will take care of all those in my charge so long as I draw breath. Man or beast.

This life brings pain, but it also brings joy and a nearly unbearable beauty. Breathe it in while you can.

love,

Gia

Putting down Roots

“To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.” Audrey Hepburn

“In nature, nothing exists alone.” Rachel Carson

“You can't start a fire
Worryin' about your little world fallin' apart
This gun's for hire
Even if we're just dancin' in the dark.” Bruce Springsteen

To say yes to the right thing, you have to know when to say no.

Today is my last day of full-time employment for the summer. I’m not an impulsive person, so when I quit the job that’s paid me the most money I’ve ever made to grow a garden, raise chickens, and paint, you know I was at some sort of cross-roads. 

I planned and imagined doing this. I just never believed I’d actually do it. 

I went and visited Charlie Wainger’s front yard farm last month. Rain Dog Farm in Redmond sells a fairly profitable amount of veggies and microgreens at a few different farmer’s markets around Seattle and are expanding the sizes of their greenhouses. It was amazing to see what can be done in just a family plot of land - Charlie’s operations are all situated on his mom’s front yard where he grew up.  

“What about this appealed to you?” I asked him.

“Well,” He laughed, “I’m kind of a fixer. I like finding solutions to problems.”

(And American agriculture is definitely a problem that needs fixing.) 

“How did you learn to grow things successfully?”

“I read a book on small-scale farming. Then I just went for it.” he told me as his dog, Ziggy, nudged my leg with a large stick.

I smiled to myself thinking about how many times a book changed my life and was settled and warmed by the thought that there are books out there changing the world all the time in big and small ways. 

Books plant ideas in minds and courage in hearts. 

There’s no other feeling like the right book finding you at the right time. I decided to order that book - The Market Farmer by Jean-Martin Fortier. I haven’t finished reading it yet but I’m so excited about what I have read.

Charlie and his team are industrious and creative workers who are growing good healthy foods in sustainable ways as they build community and inspire others to do the same. He pays his workers a salary so even in the winter months when farm work is slow, they don’t have to worry about money. It’s not just a different way of farming, it’s a more compassionate way of doing business. 

If businesses want loyalty, trust, and competence from workers they should treat them like whole human beings. Charlie lets his workers leave early and still get paid for the day if there’s not enough work because he knows when there’s 12-14 hour days coming, they’ll show up and do what needs to be done. It all balances out. People are worth taking care of. Plus, then workers aren’t forcing 8 hours of work out of just 4-5 hours. It’s more efficient and workers are allowed to spend time doing other meaningful things instead of pretending to work. 

I don’t make a lot of money, especially for the Seattle area - but last year I hit my personal best for annual income. I managed to double what I used to make just two years ago.I managed to save a lot of that money in the past few years. I felt pretty accomplished.  

Despite all this, what I found was that what I wanted more than anything was time and rest.

Four rounds of lay-offs, random administrative changes, plus a lack of solid leadership and direction all left me frustrated and disappointed at work. 

I did so much all day, was bone tired at the end, and never felt like I made any progress at all in terms of any meaningful change.

My market job taught me that I can work all day and actually feel energized by the work I do, so I know this lethargy and burnout I was feeling was not just how it had to be.

On the other hand, in my personal studies, my painting has gotten a lot better than it used to be and that’s just with stolen moments here and there for study. I pondered over and over again how much progress I could make if I actually could devote whole days, and weeks to practicing. 

How much better would my health and life be if I spent as much time doing important meaningful things for me and my family as I spend making money for someone else by selling future landfill fodder all day long? 

My dad is undergoing last shot efforts at slowing down his prostate cancer and has gotten visibly weaker. I hate seeing Pops like that. He’s always been one of the toughest and most hard working people I know. I can’t imagine a world without him. I felt now was as good a time as any to figure out how to better use my time. While he’s still here. 

I’ll still be working the market and doing some house-sitting so won’t totally be unemployed, but this will still be a major change. 

I know I’ve grown a lot because a few years ago, I would be panicking right now. 

I don’t know if it’s that I’m more optimistic or have just accepted that most of life is out of my control so I might as well just enjoy it anyway because worry never seems to help. Or maybe I’ve gotten more confident in my abilities to navigate the chaos. 

The one thing my anxiety is good for is motivation and planning so I already have projects in place and am so excited to tackle them. 

Charlie lets volunteers come out to his farm to help out and learn about plants and soil so I plan on doing that some, and reading a ton about companion planting and friendly bugs and raising chicks. Building the coop and setting everything else will be the toughest part but it’s a challenge I’m looking forward to.

When I first started house-sitting, the friend I was house-sitting for had chickens. I remember how much fun it was to collect colorful fresh eggs and watch the little feathery dinosaurs peck around the yard. There was a little red one that used to come out and “play” with me. I missed that connection. 

My dad grew up raising chickens and when I mentioned the idea to him, he seemed to light up at the thought. Then I went to Tractor Supply to scope out the baby chicks and ducklings. I was sold. They are so fluffy and cute and so fascinating. I’m looking forward to nurturing my little flock. They will help with garden bugs and their waste is composting gold. I hope to set up a total permaculture system in the backyard. You don’t have to go far to change the world. You can start right where you are. 

 I don’t know how the summer will shape up, but for the first time in a long time, I feel energized and excited for each and every day that is coming. I’ll make sure to spend time painting, relaxing, swimming at the river and cooking whatever the heck I can think up.

I’ll be sure to document it all to share with you all. 

Love,

Gia

Music, solitude, and sauerkraut

“Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.” — Maya Angelou

“The greatest thing in the world is to know how to belong to oneself.” — Michel de Montaigne

“The food on your plate is not just a substance, it is not a material, it is not a commodity, it is life.” — Sadhguru

"Hi, it's me, I'm the problem it's me."

If this quote doesn’t make any sense to you then you may not be familiar with the musical stylings of our lord and savior, Taylor Swift.

That’s okay. But also, how dare you?

Though I tend to think that I am not the problem, I have problems, I still find Swift’s songs to be very relatable and validating. She can be goofy, poignant, whimsical and totally melodramatic. And so vulnerable. I think that’s why she has such a strong pull and ties to her fans. They feel seen and understood through her music. They don’t want to just be like her, they feel she’s just like them.

There’s something about music that speaks to our universal self. The part beyond language. I guess visual art does that too. It allows emotions to flow. It makes us feel less alone. It makes us feel awe.

Awe is an underappreciated mental tool. It can shake you out of just about any self pity spiral. It can make two people that have nothing in common, feel connected. We resonate, if briefly, as one.

The discovery of new music you connect to is also one of my favorite feelings. It sounds new and somehow familiar all at once. Most likely because the person who wrote it or created it felt what you feel at one time or another.

Art and music are how we see each other, hear each other, know each other. It can say things that we might not otherwise be able to articulate. It’s important because we so often feel disconnected.

That disconnection is painful. Feeling lonely is linked to depression suicide and lowered life expectancy and higher rates of disease. It’s not just a mental issue. The tendrils spread into the body. Our physiology can change when we feel lonely. Our nervous systems are tied to our partners, our families, our friends. Even our country. Our well-being is linked to one another.

And yet we are separate.

That is the cruelest of all universal jokes.

I suppose striving for connection will always be a work in progress.

I’ve been feeling the effects of loneliness my whole life. Mostly in the form of depression and anxiety. These conditions often are catalysts for a whole host of other issues like GI issues, head and neck pain and inflammation. These are just some of the life shrinking effects of loneliness.

Loneliness is not solitude. Loneliness is often born of misunderstanding and disconnection whereas solitude is a sanctuary of the self.

Solitude is being in harmony with oneself.

Loneliness is disharmony within the self.

Like most things, in short bursts, loneliness is a call to action — it’s a way for the body to know it needs solace and consolation. It needs connection. It may cause you to seek out friends or family for that much needed re-charge we can only find in the embrace of others.

However, when it becomes a prolonged state of helplessness. When, due to your mental state or due to your environment/society, it becomes harder and harder for you to connect with others or to feel good about yourself, that’s when it becomes a problem. A possibly life-threatening one.

I find that we often miscalculate the importance of our social needs. They are not luxuries. Maslow may have been wrong to assume that our base needs are food and shelter because I don’t know anyone who died by suicide because they were hungry.

I also don’t know of any mass shooters or fanatics who went on a rampage because they were hungry or needed shelter.

It’s often when we feel we have failed ourselves or those we care for the most or when we feel that we will never be valued or understood, that we hurt the most. And when we are our most dangerous.

So the work of art becomes even more perilous. It’s burdened with saving us.

One of my favorite films is Before Sunrise, the first of Richard Linklater’s trilogy with Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy. As the young couple, who met by chance only hours ago, walk the streets of Vienna knowing they must part at sunrise, they talk. They connect.

Celine (Delpy) says, “I believe that if there’s any kind of God it wouldn’t be in any of us, not you or me but just this little space in between. If there’s any kind of magic in this world it must be in the attempt of understanding someone sharing something. I know, it’s almost impossible to succeed, but who cares really? The answer must be in the attempt.”

We must be the antidote to the indifference of the universe. It starts with seeing and hearing each other. To witness. To be present.

I’ve written about the importance of listening because listening is the first step to understanding. It’s what we owe each other because the alternative is more loneliness and pain.

I also mentioned how important it is to offer ourselves the same courtesy we offer others. We have to learn to understand ourselves. Without solitude and meditation, it’s harder to really know who we are and what we believe. If we don’t know ourselves, we have less to offer others. And we will continue to fall into the traps of loneliness more often.

Starting with the self is important in all aspects. To love oneself. To know oneself. That is life’s greatest challenge.

I have been focusing on meditation, eating well and artistic pursuits to ward off my loneliness.

The other thing I’ve been warding off is inflammation.

Inflammation is the body’s natural immune response to stress and injury. In short bursts it’s beneficial, but when it overstays its welcome, it starts to break down the body itself and impede natural processes. Again, we can be our own worst enemy when we don’t understand how to work with our body.

Many illnesses can trace their roots back to inflammation.

Mine often messes with my gut, sleep and joints.

And when you mess with the gut and sleep, you impede mental health. And poor mental health will then again impede physical well being and it turns into one viscous snake eating its tail.

Along with good sleep hygiene and stress management, I found it useful to introduce more living foods to my diet.

Living foods or fermented foods are rich in probiotics. If you make them yourself and do a wild ferment, you will have access to billions of unique microbes that are good for your belly.

Eating plants on its own is a wonder drug. Plants are chemistry masters. They can take sunlight and make food for themselves like it ain’t no thang. They can kill, they can nourish, they can clothe and they can heal us. We use them for everything from building our homes, to clothing to food, and medicine. And they are so good at the whole oxygen making thing. Truly appreciate that.

Plants produce phytochemicals or phytonutrients that naturally have anti-inflammatory effects. The plant’s immune system will help boost yours too.

And then when you add fermentation on top of that, you’re not only getting the phytonutrients, you’re getting the nutrients unlocked during the bacteria and yeast’s metabolic process that would have been unavailable otherwise.

Fermentation is such a curious thing. When I first mixed up my sourdough starter and watched the yeasts from my skin and the air breathe life into the flour and water, I was pretty wonderstruck. I had the capability of creating life this whole time in such a simple way and no one had ever told me! Ever since kindergarten, I had only been told that germs are bad and leaving food out meant destroying it. I had no idea you could incubate good germs in the right conditions.

It made me see the world differently. We share our planet, our homes, our bodies with so many types of little critters whose life cycles and natural processes allow us to thrive. We are an ecosystem. We contain multitudes.

After the “birth” of my sourdough starters Una (whole wheat and all purpose flour) and Rye-ah (rye flour) I started baking fresh breads and the taste/texture are out of this world. And there’s nothing more satisfying than eating food you constructed from the ground up. (Well, mostly as I don’t grow my own wheat…yet.)

Then, as my interest grew in learning about the little microbes that make all this possible, I found myself pulled towards foods like sauerkraut and kimchi and kombucha.

These three are fairly simple to create but take about 2–3 weeks at room temp to be ready. The wait is worth it.

I found the recipes in the Farmhouse Culture Fermentation book.

The author’s really do a good job of prepping beginners in the basic science and techniques of fermentation. It’s a gorgeous resource and very inspiring.

Once you have the basics, fermentation stops feeling like a daunting Russian roulette with botulism, but a technique you can trust.

You’ll soon be feeling like a kitchen witch with all the little jars of bubbling goodness brewing all around your home.

And each batch will be unique to you and your process. You can’t buy it or recreate it anywhere else. Each batch tastes a bit different and it’s glorious to have a little miracle in a jar on your kitchen counter. The flavors will floor you as well as the breadth of ways you can incorporate them into your meals. I love a fresh baked bread sandwich with mayo, sauerkraut, cheese and egg. The best things are the simple things.

They take time and patience — as nature intended. It’s the exact opposite of fast foods. I’ve noticed my gut health and mood are definitely more resilient since I’ve been brewing my own buch’ and making my own sauerkraut. It’s also a great gift. Because food is about community too.

The way we grow and process and eat our food is a way of life. It can heal us and bring us together if we do it right. It can heal the loneliness. It can feed your soul as well as nourish your body.

I will link to PickUpLimes’ article on inflammation here — https://www.pickuplimes.com/article/inflammation-151 — for anyone that would like to learn more. She’s one of my favorite resources for health and food related content. And It’s Alive with Brad Leone is a fun way to look into fermentation fun. https://youtu.be/RQOhAeNAjKc

I hope you’ll try it out yourself! Keep healing!

Becoming Unflappable and untethered

“There is nothing more important to true growth than realizing that you are not the voice of the mind - you are the one who hears it… Only you can take inner freedom away from yourself, or give it to yourself. Nobody else can.” - Michael Singer

“The cold is your friend.” - Wim Hof

This is part lll of the hair restoration journey posts. You may wonder what service has to do with hair restoration. Well, your hair health is dependent on your whole health. Your whole health is dependent on your mental health. Your mental health is dependent on community and security and your inner world being aligned.

Sikhs have a long history of service and meditation going hand in hand (balance of inner and outer world). Doing something meaningful and kind for others has physiological benefits. We are social creature and rely on acts of empathy and kindness for survival - our brains and bodies have built in mechanisms to reward altruistic behaviors. You will get all sorts of happy chemicals if you do good for others. It will also take you out of yourself.

Being self absorbed is bad for your health. It will make you insecure and boring and even sick. I used to be so anxious that every little thing was a slight or unbearable obstacle.

It’s important to not confuse yourself with the voice in your head. You are the awareness that notices the voice. Thoughts and feelings are information, they are not facts. You can choose to circumvent them and think and act differently than you have been doing thus far.

You can over come your default setting (Default Mode Network).

Meditation, breath work, and cold exposure have been the most effective methods for me in my own inner exploration.

By employing the methods below, I have been able to regulate my mood and appetite and sleep schedule. I am truly a healthier person for it. I’ve been doing the Wim Hof breathing method for about a year and half and have been meditating off and on for about 10 + years. I fell off the wagon a few years ago but started up again and noticed the effects right away.

I don’t fall into negative spirals as often and can pull myself out faster.

I heal faster.

I’m also just a better person because now I have energy to serve and do and explore whereas I used to just be exhausted by my own emotions.

Once I really internalized that I was the one choosing to hold on to negativity and that I could let it go, I felt so empowered. This practice takes time to learn, but your mind will get better at doing it - relaxing and letting go.

These tools will not make your life easier, it will make you stronger.

My routine:

I wake up and do Wim Hof breathing - at least one round (30 breaths and one breath hold)

I drink water, sometime with salt and lemon in the morning to wake up my body and replenish the water and electrolytes lost in my sleep.

I sometimes eat a light breakfast of fruits and nuts or eggs and toast with some kombucha or water. No juice. I also try and avoid dairy in the mornings because of the high tryptophan and fat content. Although fat is good for you and tryptophan helps in serotonin production and release, dairy can make you sleepy and I can’t have that in the morning.

Dairy is best for evenings or just before a nap. There’s a reason babies chug milk and then knock right out. Save yourself some struggle and don’t do dairy when you need to be alert.

I do 1 round (10 minutes) of kriya yoga on my drive to work. Here’s a guided version.

I try and stay mindful of my breathing at work and stand up, stretch and go for short walks whenever I get the chance. Keeping death in mind helps. It might sound morbid but death gives life meaning. So be grateful you got to steal a little more time from the grave today and find something to savor. It will make the little grudges and frustration fade because up against death, nothing really matters.

I eat lunch every day. Usually salad or a sandwich or pasta. I’ve been trying to balance my meals as much as possible but this is still a struggle for me. I’m lucky to work just a few blocks away from a local Co-Op so can get healthy options there. Again, I try and avoid heavy foods and dairy or anything loaded in sugar.

I usually need a nap around 2 so I will close my eyes and breath through my nose and exhale through my mouth for a few minutes to relax and remove myself from screens.

It’s important to just relax and slow down when you can. Life is always telling you to speed up but if you don’t slow down, you won’t get to savor it. And you’ll be too tired to really care. Just sit and observe. Or listen to soothing music. Just take a beat for yourself. Work will always be there.

After work, I try and go for a walk (sometimes with a friend), jog, work out with free weights and resistance bands or play a sport for at least 10-45 minutes. I skip some days if I’m just too tired but I try and find some time because it re-energizes me.

It’s also fun to just put on some bangers and dance. Dance is definitely exercise.

I then take a shower. I do my scalp massage and then for the last 30 seconds to a minute of the shower, I turn the temp ice cold. The shock from this is a meditation in itself. It pulls me into myself. I have to remember to relax even with the mild stress the cold is exerting. It gets easier every time but is always a struggle. I get an immediate burst of happy chemicals and a deep satisfaction of having handled the discomfort with grace.

This daily practice will train your brain to not sweat mild discomforts. I’ve been able to handle anxiety much better due to it.

I now take ice baths every now and then which are even more rewarding than the showers. The reduction of inflammation and increase in health benefits is palpable. It even makes it easier to fall asleep afterwards. And good sleep is a super power. It’s when your body repairs and replenishes. It’s essential to good health and well-being. Never skimp on sleep.

I try and be done with dinner and take my vitamins before 6:30 so my body has time to digest and relax before bed.

I try and make time for art or family time.

I do my skin/hair care routine and try and read a bit before bed so my eyes are not getting the blue light from screens.

Then I try and be asleep by 10:30 at the latest. Usually in bed by 9:40.

I do a night time meditation and read some Sikh Hymns.

I get thrown off the routine every now and then but this is what I strive for. I make regular lists and note things in my calendar to make sure I can be efficient and have time for the important things.

I used to meditate for hours a day but that wasn’t sustainable as my life got more busy and hectic. These small steps give me a daily routine I can manage. The consistency is what gives this routine strength.

And then of course, I try and do something kind for someone else once a day. It can honestly be as simple as having a thoughtful conversation where you listen more than you speak. Or helping someone with the dishes.

I also love working at the farmer’s market and house-sitting. Caring for farmers, small local businesses and animals grounds me and makes my work feel meaningful. It builds community. Community and kindness can keep you healthy. Let the negative stuff go.

Note:

Please know that I’m not a medical professional and all these things are not me prescribing anything. They’re just things that worked for me and I hope you can find some use out of them. But know your own body and limits and consult a doctor before doing any cold exposure so you know your heart can take it. Never force your body beyond its limits.

Take care and may good things come your way!

Love,

Gia

P.S. Reading list:

The Untethered Soul by Michael Singer

The benefits of meditation:

Video 1

How to Grow back your hair and influence people

“Hair is beauty. Hair is emotion. Hair is our heritage. Hair tells us who we are, where we’ve been and where we are going. Hair is Power. You can’t imagine what it’s like to lose it. But I refused to give up the fight. My hair grew back and so did my confidence.” - Madam C.J. Walker

For those of you who haven’t seen Octavia Spencer play Madam C.J. Walker in Netflix’s Self-Made, boy howdy, hot dang, you should. You’ll see a broken down black woman who is losing her hair go from penniless clothes washer to first female millionaire as she not only restores her own hair, but creates a salve that helps many other women with their hair loss.

It’s a story I wish I had learned in high school. Where would women be if we had our stories lauded as highly as those of even most mediocre of men? For we are constantly accomplishing the impossible.

Hair is one of those things that most of us just take for granted. It grows all over our bodies and most of the time we are trying to get rid of it - plucking, shaving, waxing, cutting.

The hair on our heads is special in that it signifies health, status, and identity. It provides us with confidence as well as protection from the elements. I think it’s easy to take it for granted, but it’s like teeth, so essential to our day to day existence and damn near impossible to replace once it’s gone. 

However, the glorious thing about being human is that we perform little miracles all the time, so if you are losing your hair, there’s hope still. I’ve been slowly growing my hair back after I lost much of it to Androgenetic Alopecia in my 20s and I have seen improvements and successes. Seeing increased thickness and coverage all over is so encouraging. It’s given me more mental stability and confidence in all areas of my life. Everyone deserves that. I’m going to share with you some things I’ve learned and routines I’ve experimented with and consistently performed to get those results. I hope they help!

Disclaimer: I am not a hair or health professional. I am not suggesting that you do any of the following. I’m simply laying out products, advice and resources and routines that worked for me and might help you. You need to make decisions about your health for yourself with a doctor. Consult someone before making drastic changes to your routines and supplements.

What is hair and how does it work?

Very simply, hair is a filament of the protein keratin that grows out of follicles, or openings, on the scalp. 

Your follicle also contains a sebum gland that produces natural oil to coat your scalp and hair to protect them from the elements. Your hair goes through phases of growth: anagen (growth), catagen (transition when it starts to thin and loosen at the root), telogen (your follicle rests a bit before a new hair bulb and shaft are put into action).

Your scalp has its own microbiome and pH level. It’s slightly acidic to deter excess fungal and bacterial growth. 

What causes hair loss? 

There are many types of hair loss or alopecia. Most people will experience hair thinning as they age due to normal hormonal changes and wear and tear. 

Some types are caused by poor nutrition/diet and unbalanced lifestyles that cause stress. Others are caused by autoimmune diseases. Many of these are reversible with adjustments to diet and life or the proper medication. There are articles linked below that go into more detail about the types of alopecia. 

Androgenetic Alopecia

The type that is most common and the one I have is called androgenetic alopecia or standard pattern baldness. Women often don’t lose their hair line but experience overall hair thinning, widening parts and finer hair with a wispier texture. That’s what I started noticing in my 20s. 

Androgenetic alopecia is caused by a genetic factor. What I learned is that some people’s follicles are more susceptible to DHT (dihydrotestosterone), a by-product of testosterone. DHT causes shrinkage and ultimately death in follicles. 

Other contributing factors are stress, poor nutrition, lack of exercise, unbalanced scalp, and stress. Did I mention stress? 

Stress in short bursts is so useful for getting things done, but we experience prolonged stress exposure regularly as a society. We are an anxious, depressed, and sick people.

Stress is just another word for fear. We are worried and scared quite a bit. It’s hard not to be when the world is frozen over, under water, on fire or being actively bombed. Your concerns are valid. However, the out of control fear response will do nothing for you. 

Stress releases cortisol. In the short term this help activate your mind and muscles for quick actionable responses. Life saving in a pinch, but prolonged exposure to cortisol deteriorates tissues and impedes digestion. It causes inflammation all over the body and this inflammation will choke out blood supply to follicles too.

When you’re stressed, you don’t sleep well so your entire set of bodily functions, including skin and brain care don’t happen. The food you eat is not being digested well so your cells are not getting the proper nutrition they need to function.

Do this often and long enough and you will disrupt hormones as well.

Stress will increase hair loss and impede recovery. You absolutely have to conquer your fear if you want to grow your hair back. 

If you’re like me, this is stressing you out because now you’re worried about your worry. Haha. Life is hilarious that way. 

It’s okay, with practice you will become a mental warrior. You’ll be surprised how quickly too.  

Possible solutions:

There are many solutions out there these days. We are super lucky to live in a scientifically advanced era where most solutions to problems are just a few clicks away. 

The first step is just to learn as much about the type of alopecia you have. Each one has a slightly varied recovery plan. 

Be prepared for experimentation. You are unique so what works for others may not work for you. And what works for you may not work for others. However, there are plenty of clinical studies out there on products that tend to work for the majority of people so the odds are in your favor. 

Schedule an appointment with a dermatologist experienced in alopecia. Seattle has many. You’ll be able to start a personalized plan with a professional you trust. You’ll have someone helping you. Which brings me to my other point.

Have a community of trust and support if possible. 

Going through hair loss is hard. Going through it alone is not only emotionally crippling, it’s counterproductive to your recovery. Having love and support from people that know your story and accept you is everything. It will give you the courage to keep moving on and trying new things. It will also help limit your fear/stress response. It might even encourage others to get healthier too. As you’ll learn, hair recovery is a holistic approach. Everything is linked. 

Improve your diet and lifestyle. Eating local healthy fresh diverse foods is so important. Supplement if you need to but eating a diet that reduces inflammation will also help with your mental focus and physical recovery. 

What worked best for me:

I started off with a dermatologist who wasn’t super great at follow up. She offered me finasteride and minoxidil. Finasteride is a DHT hormone blocker that many people use but it is mostly studied in men. I was not comfortable taking something that was that strong as I had an adverse side effect to birth control a few years earlier and don’t take hormone suppressors as a matter of principle. It’s just not worth it to me personally since my body is sensitive to those types of chemicals. It works for many but I needed to find a different approach. 

Minoxidil or Rogaine caused an allergic reaction that was pretty traumatic so that was out too.

After taking a day or two to be pretty bummed I continued my research and learned that Elon Musk had gotten hair restoration at a clinic in Chicago. I found the clinic and looked into their stem cell therapy and PRP programs. After learning more about PRP, I looked for a clinic in Seattle that offered it. I found Advanced Dermatology where Doctor Greene and his amazing staff helped me get started with a very effective treatment. 

PRP is Platelet Rich Plasma treatment. I’ve had the procedure done a few times now. They draw my blood, put it through a centrifuge to separate the plasma from the red blood cells and inject it into my scalp. 

It’s a painful experience, but I’m usually hopped up on nitrous. 

When you first start, you have to do one round of 20 shots into the scalp every month for three months in a row. Then you can do annual maintenance treatments. After the first round, I was already noticing less shedding and new baby hairs. 

Platelet rich plasma has growth hormones/factors that stimulate the follicles and encourage new growth.

Cost: $800 per treatment plus $50 for the nitrous.

I saw results pretty quickly after. I was very encouraged. I did the initial series which was one round every month for three months. Now I just do once a year maintenance treatments. It’s more affordable that way.

After seeing these results I was determined to help those baby hairs stay strong and have the best shot at recovery so I made changes to my lifestyle and diet as well.

Eating more complex carbs, diverse fruits and veggies, more beans and nuts and fish and eggs has helped a lot. As well as incorporating pro-biotics through yogurt and fermented foods. Eat an anti-inflammatory diet and make sure to exercise. This will not only boost your mood, it will help regulate your sleep and hormones. Even if you do it 5-10 minutes a day, it’s better than nothing.

I usually try to go for a walk and do some weighted exercises in the evening or morning. Do yoga or go for a bike ride. Just get moving! Keep your blood flowing.

I also use the iRestore Red Light Laser Therapy Helmet along with the Kerafactor Scalp Stimulator, shampoo and scrub brush. The scalp cleanser balances the scalp. The Scrub brush increases circulation and exfoliates the scalp. I do this every other day in the shower. I do scalp massages every day for increasing blood flow and decreasing inflammation.

The Kerafactor scalp stimulator is to be used with the red light laser as it helps boost the effects of the light. It’s pricey but you can just get one bottle a year or just do the red light laser. You can usually get a deal on the helmet. Mine was around $450. Worth it in the long run.

iRestore Shampoo and Conditioner is also worth trying as it’s shampoo gentle and moisturizing. Your hair washing routine will be unique to you and your scalp and hair type. I find it best to wash every other day so I have time for natural oils to coat my scalp but not long enough for them to clog my follicles. You have to keep things in balance. I found that if I went too long without washing, my hair started to hurt due to the sebum buildup.

Washing too often will dry out the scalp or cause dandruff (caused by excess oil production in response to the dryness). Experiment and find your Goldilocks zone for hair washing.  

A good multi vitamin will do you a lot of good. Pre-natal vitamins in particular are super useful. Marine collagen has been very effective for me.

I recently started taking Nutrafol which is a subscription service that provides a multi-vitamin that includes marine collagen, saw-palmetto, curcumin and other anti-inflamatory and hair boosting ingredients all in one place so I don’t have to buy or take a bunch of different vitamins. They also offer pro-biotic with pre-biotics mixed in to help your gut be at its best so it can absorb as many nutrients as possible. They have a great service and are clinically backed and physician formulated. You can personalize your order and you can schedule an appointment with one of their many accredited naturopaths anytime with questions or just to track your progress. Like I mentioned before, it takes a village to help you along your hair recovery.  My inflammation has definitely decreased since I started taking them and it’s only been a few weeks. I’m excited to see what happens at 6 months.

I really enjoy this service. It’s about $75 a month for the supplements and consultations. It seems like a lot but knowing that these supplements are specifically engineered for helping women regrow their hair and that someone will listen to your story and help you figure out the right treatment for you is pretty valuable to me.

Check out their website and see for yourself. If you use the link here, you will get 20 dollars off your first purchase. They don’t sponsor me. I just really like their products and services.

Don’t feel overwhelmed, you can start slow, experiment and see what combo of things work for you. It will take time. Come up with a routine that is simple and easy enough to be sustainable over a long period of time. Do things you’ll stick with. 10 minutes a day is better than 3 hours all at once and then 2 weeks off. It’s all about consistency. Think about compound interest. If you want to see results in your health compound, be consistent. Do strength training and light cardio to begin with. Start slow and steady and add routines as you go.

Buy better. Reduce simple sugar intake and get more starchy vegetables and complex carbs. Whole foods and grains. Eat lean proteins and lots of it. Your hair is a protein strand, remember? So make sure to get half your body weight in grams of protein every day. Drink shakes if you have to but try and get the nutrition directly from your food.

Remember, your body is designed to process food, not nutrients alone. I’ve also started fermenting more of my food and cooking at home more than eating out and it’s truly improved my over all health. It also makes me feel better about my carbon footprint. There are so many good books and resources that will help you on your good slow foods journey. I will link them below. 

The single best thing I did for myself besides diet improvement was I started meditating regularly and doing breathwork and cold exposure therapy. The Wim Hof Method is one of the best discoveries of my life. Please read my post on the benefits of meditation and practices I employ to help you start your own.

Here are some products and resources. I wish you luck! Whatever happens, you’re going to be okay.

Procedures:

PRP - I go Advanced Dermatology and Laser Institute of Seattle

Products:

iRestore Redlight Therapy Helmet - they have a 365 day trial money back guarantee so you can try it and get your money back if it doesn’t work.

Kerafactor - partner with redlight therapy or alone.

Nutrafol

Cheaper options:

Silicone scalp brush

Prenatal vitamins or gummies

Marine Collagen with types l and lll

Rosemary oil and witch hazel are excellent scalp stimulators and soothers

Kokum butter, castor and coconut oil are also great for doing scalp massages

Remember to take care of the rest of your skin too - it’s alive! Treat it as such.

Books:

We Are What We Eat & The Art of Simple Foods by Alice Waters

In the Defense of Food by Michael Pollan

The Untethered Soul by Michael Singer

YouTube: Wim Hof Method

Do all of these or pick a few and do them consistently.

I know some of these things are pricey but I’ve found them to be worth it in the long run. It will take months to reverse the years of damage. Be patient, be active, be happy. Good things will happen.

Love,

Gia

Bad Hair Days

“Hair is the first thing. And teeth the second. Hair and teeth. A man got those two things he's got it all.” - James Brown

“I think that the most important thing a woman can have- next to talent, of course- is her hairdresser.” - Joan Crawford

“The hair is the richest ornament of women.” - Martin Luther

“That’s why her hair is so big, it’s full of secrets” - Mean Girls

“Hair is power.” Madam CJ Walker

Girls aren’t supposed to lose their hair. 

I thought it was something that only happened to men, like prostate enlargement or the man flu.  

You’ve seen the shampoo commercials and magazine covers - you know what I’m talking about. Every woman is basically a mop, stick thin with a thick head of glowing radiant hair with like 15 fans blowing it all different directions so you can see it flutter around sexily.

(How it never gets stuck to their lip gloss, I’ll never know.) 

Indian women in particular are known for their silky midnight tresses. As Chris Rock highlights in his documentary, Good Hair, hair for wigs and extensions is one of India’s main exports. Indian women have so much hair, they’re giving it away. 

Sikhs often don’t even cut their hair as it is seen as a source of strength, health, and vitality.

Hair is holy. It’s a crown. It’s identity. 

My hair was silky straight, a deep reddish brown, and I wore it long. I grew it out for 10 years until it was brushing the backs of my knees. When it was braided, I’m sure it was strong enough to tow a truck with. I took great pride in it. 

It was gradual - I had so much  hair that it took me a while to realize it was all falling out until it was too late. I was horrified when I realized I had lost 60-70% of my hair density. My scalp was showing and my remaining strands were changing in texture from strong and silky to light and wispy. I felt brittle inside thinking about it - porous and hollow. I spent many months agonizing over it. Trying to hide and mask it. 

Few things compare to the helplessness of sitting on the bathroom floor with a clump of your hair in your hands knowing no force on the planet will attach it back to your scalp.  

I felt bitter and dismayed. I was in my twenties. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. What was wrong with me?

A trip to the dermatologist proved I was not dying. She did some blood work to confirm. I was simply balding. Yay? Maybe I could start dressing like Bruce Willis or the Rock and no one would notice.

She offered me some finasteride, or propecia, a drug that reduces how much of your testosterone turns into dihydrotestosterone or DHT. DHT is known to shrink and kill hair follicles in individuals who are sensitive to it. 

I didn’t want anything that would mess with my hormones too much. I had pretty adverse responses to medication like that in the past. My skin was too sensitive for minoxidil/Rogaine. She didn’t really seem to have any other answers for me at the time. 

I went back to a helpless and resigned and depressed place. At least men can grow a beard to compensate. I couldn’t even do that. 

The science was scattered and still emerging. The idea of a hair transplant filled me with shame and desperation. How much would it cost? I didn’t even know if it would be effective. Would I be down a couple grand with nothing to show but some scar tissue?

I felt ugly. I never let my boyfriend touch my hair fearing he might notice. I doubt my friends would want to sit with the discomfort of being seen with me. I could hardly stand to look at myself in the mirror without feeling tears pricking the sides of my eyes. Every time I saw anyone pass by with a full head of hair, I was filled with awe and bottomless envy. Why couldn’t I have this basic thing? Those people never even have to think twice about it. 

I lacked the confidence to apply for any jobs where I would be in the public eye. I just wanted to hide away in a little office space where no one could see me.

I started looking into realistic looking wigs and resigned myself to the fact that I should wait until my hair was sparse enough and then just shave it and get the wig. Or get really into hats.

The shame and self loathing were termites in my mind. 

You see, I’ve always had a problem with depression and anxiety. I think that was one of the reasons my hair started falling out in the first place. I had childhood traumas that compounded in adulthood and I had no one to teach me how to regulate my moods and emotions and instead of adapting I retreated. 

As a young adult, I worried about money, my aging parents, making a career and finding a partner and buying a house in the increasingly impossible market and it all felt like life was an enormous anvil just hanging over me. 

I was so afraid of life itself. I consistently played it safe and pulled further into myself. It turns out, this was making me weaker. My ability to deal with the world continued to atrophy as I pulled farther from it.

I used to meditate and exercise much more regularly in high school and college. But my diet was poor. My anxiety often made it difficult for me to digest food properly and when I became a vegetarian, I was young and un-trained so I often neglected my protein intake. 

I felt tired and lost all the time. 

I really just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up again.

The funny thing is that a lot of the awful things in my life turned out to be impetus for me to make positive changes. 

My hair restoration process was spurred forward in the most funny of ways. I saw a meme of celebrities with before and after photos of them. On the left were photos of them before they had money, and on the right were photos of them after they had made an obscene amount of money. 

The caption read: You’re not ugly, you’re just poor. One of the celebrities was Elon Musk. 

He seemed to have a much more pronounced jaw now and a full head of hair whereas before it was wispy and receding.

Musk has always been a bit of a weasel. He didn’t even found Tesla, he was just an early investor. He often has gotten lucky, and does not necessarily have the business acumen of a genius, even though I’m sure he would still (despite current events with twitter) consider himself one.

However, I owe him this: he led me to getting my hair back. Well, more of it. 

I became obsessed with finding out how Musk had gone from balding troll to fabio. 

I found that he had visited a clinic in Chicago that did stem cell therapy and PRP.

I became intrigued with stem cell therapy and contacted the clinic. The procedure would use my own stem cells extracted from bone marrow and was 3000 dollars. It was effective in restoring hair in most of the patients that tried it. 

I was still skeptical but this seemed like a more promising approach than anything else I had read about. I was more than willing to fly to Chicago. At last, I was seeing the glimpse of a sunrise on my long cold night. 

Just before booking my appointment and flight, I looked to see if Seattle had any clinics that offered the same procedure. I found a reputable UW dermatologist, Dr. Greene, who did PRP instead. It was more cost effective and it was here so no plane trips were required. I could book a consultation for the same week.

PRP is Platelet Rich Plasma treatment. I’ve had the procedure done a few times now. They draw my blood, put it through a centrifuge to separate the plasma from the red blood cells and inject it into my scalp. 

It’s a painful experience, but I’m usually hopped up on nitrous. 

When you first start, you have to do one round of 20 shots into the scalp every month for three months in a row. Then you can do annual maintenance treatments. After the first round, I was already noticing less shedding and new baby hairs. 

Platelet rich plasma has growth hormones/factors that stimulate the follicles and encourage new growth.

I was elated. Those new baby hairs filled me with renewed determination. I had wanted to make healthy eating, exercise, and meditation part of my life again and now I had an even stronger reason to start.

I had done enough research to know that there is no silver bullet for hair regeneration. 

You have to do several key things and do them consistently.  

It helps to have the PRP or stem cell therapy, but if you continue to live a stress-filled lifestyle and don’t take care of your mental and physical health, the effects will be lackluster and temporary. Consistent eating whole, natural, balanced meals and stress management (meditation and exercise + cold exposure) have been key to my recovery and will continue to be. 

I have done PRP for 3 years now and my hair and scalp are stronger and seeing increased coverage and growth. It’s a slow process, but I trust slow and steady. Dr. Greene and his knowledgeable and kind staff have been so gentle and supportive. It helps to have a kind group of professionals who are truly invested in improving your life, not just your hair helping you through the process.

It also helps to have supportive family and friends. As it turned out, the people that loved me couldn’t care less if I was bald. It took me a while to love myself back as much as they loved me. This foundation was essential to getting my mind right so that my body could start to be right and vis-e-versa. 

I also partner my treatments with a red light laser helmet that I use for 25 minutes at a time 3 times a week to increase blood flow and growth in the scalp. Scalp massages and proper hygiene are also important as the scalp has its own microbiome that you have to consider and it helps to stimulate blood flow by relaxing muscles and cells. As my mom says, “exercise the hair” with regular brushing sessions and massages.

 I take supplements like marine collagen which was shown to increase hair density in clinical studies. Curcumin is also great to help reduce inflammation. This partnered with healthy eating, exercise, cold exposure and meditation/breathwork have all been essential to my recovery.

I don’t think I’ll ever have 100 percent of my original hair density back. However, I now have less and less scalp showing and increasing hair density to the point that I don’t feel I have to hide or worry too much.  

As I started studying hair regeneration, I became aware how common this ailment is. 

So many women suffer from it and yet they have done so in silence and alone because there was such a social taboo. I’m glad things are starting to change.

Alopecia is a complicated disease and there are many forms of it. I happened to have androgenetic alopecia. It’s one of the more common ones and more heavily studied. That’s why it was somewhat reversible. I’m also lucky that women usually don’t have receding hairlines. I had overall thinning and a widening part. It was easier to mask than other forms of alopecia. 

I’m glad there are those out there that are brave enough to accept it and be open about it. Some women are even bold enough to go sans wig and I get so happy to see that. I know that if these treatments ever stop working, being bald and having cool wigs to try on doesn’t even seem that big of a deal anymore. I fought my way out of my emotional black hole and into the light of acceptance. I’m much more comfortable talking about it now and rarely ever get self conscious anymore. It still sneaks up on me from time to time. But I know now that it’s not the end of the world. 

I hope this article will help people learn more about alopecia and maybe offer some solace and guidance to those who may be suffering from it.

I have written a two part follow up to this post. 

Part one is my hair care/skin care resources and routines. 

The second is my meditation routine and research.

Whether or not you’re losing your hair, I think both articles will be useful resources in boosting your physical and mental well-being.

May good things come your way. 

How to write a great sentence

The first few days of fall quarter at the UW are always crisp and bustling. Back in my sophomore year, I was already done with my required classes for the day when I saw a throng of excited students spilling into a brick building and decided to follow them.

At the beginning of the quarter, classes are tentative placements and you can sample classes and drop others to join the ones you are more interested in. Or just sit in on something you think is interesting.

There was this electricity of possibilities all around. After the murmur of students settling in quieted down, the  professor asked us to “Write a great sentence” He gave us 5 minutes. 

I don’t think I heard a single pen move. Not for a while. The majority of the class sat there staring at the blank paper like it was a parking ticket or an eviction notice. Confusion, horror, frustration, resignation, desperation, it all flowed through the room for 5 minutes.

I was bemused. What did he mean, great sentence? Without context? In 5 minutes? Could such a thing even exist? And if so, wouldn’t it already have been written? 

I wanted to know what he’d say next. 

“Anyone want to share what they have?” 

I suppressed a giggle. It would have been a very bold person indeed to have stood up to share their GREAT sentence. 

He smiled and said, “Okay, now write me a sentence about Thanksgiving.”

Pens all around started moving furiously, including my own. 

After we set our pens down, he had a few people share their sentences. Some were actually pretty good, but all of us had something written. Whereas the first time, I doubt even a third of the class had a sentence.

“You see,” He started, “you need constraints. Too many possibilities lead to paralysis. You will never write a great sentence or even a good one, if you never write anything.”

That was my only day in that class but I will never forget it.

It’s helped guide me many times throughout life when I’m feeling stuck.

I struggle with constraints. They are undoubtedly useful and necessary - but I often find the fear of missing out or the whittling down of possibilities haunt me. Especially when it comes to a career. I’ve always been lucky enough to be employed - under paid - but employed. Sometimes you just need a steady paycheck, but I often find my day to day fails the fast forward test. 

The fast forward test is simple yet revealing. How much of your work day or even personal life do you often find yourself wishing you could fast forward?

Half? All? Then maybe it’s time to find something else that makes better use of your time.

I’m at half. There’s about half of my day at work that I find myself wishing I could fast forward. I know I’m lucky because I didn’t get fired or “layed off” this year. My company has reduced its workforce by about 60%. I’m still here but the whittling down has left an impact. It’s not easy to watch your team be overworked and under-appreciated. I don’t like seeing people worked beyond regular hours all summer and then let go a week before Thanksgiving. Leaves you with a bitter taste and mistrust of management. 

Not a great environment for healthy morale and team building. 

On top of being an industry that does a lot of work with plastics and other environmentally unfriendly materials, the work is sedentary and screen focused. After my years at the farmer’s markets, I’m learning I need variation in my tasks, flexibility and independence. I like to be active in my work. But market work is a seasonal gig and doesn’t have great benefits. This honestly wouldn’t be a problem if we had universal affordable healthcare that wasn’t tied to your employer. But here we are. 

The adult world can be so vast. It’s so hard to decide where to focus your energy and time. It always seems like you need to be doing everything at all times and faster than before. And there remains so much to be done. 

But I’ve always been a slow and steady type of person. 

We are not living our best balanced lives. Thinking back to my poetry class in college,  I think a lot of our issues come from a lack of proper constraints.

I think humanity has spent most of its existence trying to escape our natural constraints that it’s hard to think about adding them back in.

With our modern technological advances, we honestly don’t even have environmental constraints. We can have whatever we want shipped from across the globe overnight (or the span of a few days as most). We can have avocados year round. Do you even know when an avocado is in season or out? I certainly don’t. 

You can have your electricity on all night if you want, thus circumventing your own body’s circadian rhythm. 

You can fly across the globe chasing summer if you want to and never encounter winter. A journey that would have taken a chunk of your life only takes hours.

It’s miraculous that we can do this. The comforts that we enjoy are so lovely and I wouldn’t want life without them. However, all life has a balance. I’m afraid humans are not very good at balance when constraints disappear. 

Because of this same technological advancement, we are constantly working. You are always accessible. Always plugged in. Always racing to the next thing. And because we have eliminated limits, the race is endless. And yet, never enough. There’s a reason burnout rates, suicide and mental decline were so rampant even before the pandemic.

The surplus and ubiquity of sugar and over abundance of cheap nutrients has led to obscene weight and health problems across the westernized world. Everywhere the constraint-less western diet goes, it takes with it the Pandora’s Box of supersized horrors.  

On top of the health challenges we face, our constraint-less industry and agriculture has ravaged the health of the planet and its people. Our seasonless growth and consumption have been a cancer to the entire Earth. We can see the desolation and perhaps even anticipate the disasters to come, and yet, we seem content to pass the time pretending it’s not as bad as it is. 

Perhaps some of that is because we don’t feel like we can make much of a difference.

In response to this, I say add constraints back into your life and see the difference it makes. 

I recently read Alice Water’s We Are What We Eat: A Slow Food Manifesto. This book felt like a memory and a message from the future simultaneously. Waters is the world famous chef and owner of Chez Panisse in California. She is one of the first people to start a sustainable farm to table restaurant where all the food served is in season, sustainable and locally sourced. 

She also has started an “edible education” program with local schools where youngsters plant and tend their own sustainable gardens as part of their schooling. It brings in the whole community and educates them about food and food systems. 

What Waters says is not unknown. But the way she delivers the information with stark simple examples from her own life and solutions she herself has employed, makes the book into a nutrient dense meal of storytelling and journalism. 

This book is hope. It’s a seed. I hope you will plant it in your own mind soon.

As Mary Oliver wrote in one of her many essays, “attention is the beginning of devotion.” Bring attention to the things in life that are most essential. Give those things proper attention. Even if it’s painful or scary or uncomfortable. I feel like that’s the only way to truly be alive. Otherwise you live on autopilot. Like some oppressive instinct. 

I’m starting to pay attention to what I really care about and adding limits to my behaviors as much as I can. I will continue my study to see how much more sustainably I can live. 

And I will add this information into my job search. I will try and apply for opportunities that allow me to live the life I think nature would prefer. We spend so much of our lives at work. If that work is killing us and the planet, what’s even the point? 

Everything is connected and until we change the way we eat and work and live, we will continue to face the epidemic of never feeling like anything is enough.

The only way to remedy this is to slow down. 

I know the pandemic caused us to lose much and many, but it also allowed us to learn to live differently. We know it’s possible to slow down and yet keep going. When we had time away from work and had to really sit with our thoughts, people were able to repair relationships, leave broken ones, learn new languages and bake bread the old slow way. The healthy way. 

Slow is nature’s way. It’s a good way. 

There’s a reason meditation and sleep can increase your brain’s functionality, repair your immune system and allow you better focus. They are ways to slow down and re-energize.

There are so many health and personal benefits to slowing down.

Maybe you get less done in a day but maybe it’s time to re-evaluate what is possible in a day. Or what should be expected. It’s okay to do less. I will wager that what you do get done will be of much higher quality than before. Speed doesn’t often result in quality.

I often find when I have too much or too little to do, I am sad or restless. A balance of activity and rest is important. 

The very first newsletter I sent out this year started out with this quote: “you don’t have to go fast, you just can’t stop moving”. I can’t think of a better philosophy for life. Go slow. Go all the way.

Things take the time they take.  

Enjoy it.

Time is not something to get through or endure. There is no gold at the end of the rainbow. So just enjoy the rainbow. 

We are the process. Witness it. Own it. 

We come full circle :) It’s been a glorious year. Here’s to another one!

Changing the rhyme

What We Owe the Future and how to give it. How to build a better world starting now.

I think we all want to change the world. It’s just often hard to know where to start. It’s a good thing that the world has so many wonderful and smart people who have done a lot of the work for you. There are several organizations I’ve linked below that you can check out that will help you maximize your positive impact on the world. 

Link number one is a TedTalk given by philosopher and Princeton professor, Peter Singer. I first came across Singer in high school while prepping for a debate. I was coming up with a way to  defend vegetarianism as a morally just thing to do and pulled many facts and quotes from an essay Singer had written on the benefits of vegetarianism and animal welfare. He is so wonderful at simplifying complex concepts. He will make you really question everything you believe. In his talk he discusses effective altruism and how best to practice it to help as many people as you can. Not just because you can, but because it is your moral duty to do so. I’m less concerned with the duty part. I just want to help and I think you do too. Whether or not you’re supposed to. I think more often than not, we want to. 

There are many ways to help people and the organizations he discusses are all wonderful ones to check out. I’ve linked them below the link to his TedTalk.

Just a trigger warning his talk starts off with an upsetting topic. I think it is uncomfortable but worth watching to get the full impact of what Singer is trying to relay. 

I will also link to his website where you can download his book or listen to it for free. The audio version is narrated by Singer, Stephen Fry, Kristen Bell and more. It’s a great stepping off point to help you on your journey into figuring out where you want to aim your energy and resources. 

I’m also linking to 80000 Hours’ website. They are a team of people dedicated to helping others find careers in fields that will help the world the most. You might just have skills needed in the most pressing areas. Or if you don’t yet, you may figure out the skills you need to gather to be more effective at your goals of helping the world. 

I’ve signed up for their newsletter and am looking forward to listening to their podcast and reviewing the guide to see if I can implement what I learn into a way of life. I will follow up on this next month to see if there’s been progress made. 

Givewell is also linked below and it’s another fantastic resource for giving money to the most effective charities and causes around the world.Givewell and Giving What We Can have calculators on their sites to help you figure out what you could commit to donating. It can be monthly or annually or just once. It’s really up to you how much you help out. But honestly, you can make it part of your lifestyle to give. 

I will be laying out my own process below. I want to explain my personal game plan for implementing what I’ve learned. Perhaps this will give you a jumping off point for coming up with your own way of giving and helping. 

Why I give: I want the world to be better. I want people to be better able to achieve their potential. I don’t want people to suffer needlessly. Many illnesses and suffering are actually curable. Many people helped me and it changed my life. I received a full ride scholarship to college and living debt free is such a source of dignity. I want everyone to get closer to that feeling. And giving feels really good. It’s satisfying. It helps break the consumerist cycle of drudgery for me. Buying a new iPhone for $1000 with one more camera isn’t going to radically change my life. But that same $1000 dollars can restore the eyesight of 20 people in developing nations. That’s powerful. When you start seeing how far your money can go.

Who I give to: In the past, I’ve donated to the Girl in Yellow - a UW run charity for educating girls in rural parts of India. I have given to Planned Parenthood because they provided affordable healthcare to me throughout college. And because they help women have autonomy over their own bodies. I’ve donated to a few political races and I also give to United Sikhs and the Sikh Coalition because they provide pro bono legal help for civil rights cases all across the world for people in need and provide disaster relief and free food. My friend Jesse also cooked hot meals for homeless people in his neighborhood during the pandemic and I donated to him too. This year, I made a sizable donation to Tostan, a non-profit in Senegal that helps an entire community lift itself out of poverty by simply providing them with resources and letting them lead. Give women education and money and see the world change for the better. 

This year I decided to give 2.5% of my annual projected income to charity. The total was $1075. Not much but it’s something. I have given $750 so far to Tostan, United Sikhs and the Sikh Coalition. I have $325 left. I am trying to figure out how to make this remaining money go far in its impact and also to have a tangible effect at home as well as abroad. 

Money tends to go farther in India or Africa, but I know so many people are suffering all around Seattle. My real goal would be to have a free crowdsourced meal service. Like a pop up at the market with a canopy where we cook hot meals for people for free. Like good food. Food people would want to pay for. Anyone could come. If you can pay, leave a tip, if not, it’s okay, just take the food. But that will take planning and time. Maybe in the future.

I’ve looked through the charities at Givingwell and these five are the ones I’ve chosen to give to:

1. Seva - An organization devoted to serving the underprivileged with medical and eye care. They prevent many people from going blind from vitamin deficiencies and cataract surgeries. You can give someone’s sight back for as little as $30 dollars.

2. Fistula Foundation - When I found out what a fistula was, I knew I needed to stop them from ruining people’s lives. They are preventable but often don’t get priority. They occur when women have traumatic labor and become incontinent due to tissue damage. You can help restore someone’s dignity and way of life today.

3. GiveDirectly - This group gives cash, no strings attached, to needy families all over the world. I believe in letting people decide what they need.

4. Carbon180 - Because climate change is disastrous. I’m sick of it being 75 degrees in October and breathing in toxic smoke. 

5. Evidence Action - This group helps impoverished communities with deworming and clean water. 

6. (Next year - I will be giving to Animal charities. I will research and give a break down of next year’s funds in a few months.)

I will be donating $35 to each for a total of $175. As for the remaining $150, $50 of it I will convert to cash. I want to have some singles so when people on the street ask for money, I will be able to just give them some instead of avoiding eye contact and walking by callously. For a few people, that will matter and I won’t have to ignore a plea for help. 

With the remaining $100, I will be purchasing hygiene products for women in need in Seattle and Everett. I will spend about $35-50 on that. The Redmond Farmers Market is having a donation drive and I will give to them. 

With whatever is left over, about $50-$75 or so, I will buy brown bags and fill them with protein bars, fruit, and other snacks that last a long time. I will make little goody bags that I can hand out to hungry people on the street when they ask. I will keep them in my car so I’m less likely to get caught empty handed. 

One day I would like to raise enough money to help homeless people get their laundry done. I think if I was homeless, that would make me feel good, to have warm clean clothes to wear. Just the dignity of being clean. 

I have bigger plans and I will figure out how to get involved with other organizations that are already doing things like that. I want to spend my time helping and engaging with the community a little too. But I’m happy to let my money do some heavy lifting for now. 

How I Chose How Much to Give: The calculator here: https://www.thelifeyoucansave.org/take-the-pledge/

This told me what 1% of my income was and that’s all they recommended I give. But I know I didn’t give as much last year so I increased it to 2.5%. I decided that I would give up a few things this year so I could give more. And honestly, it doesn’t feel like a sacrifice. Once I knew how much I would be giving, it felt like it was already someone else’s money. It was like setting aside a vacation fund. You know you are only using that money for a specific cause.

I will cut back on a few things to keep saving at my normal rate. I normally get my hair cut and colored twice a year. I only did it once this year and will save the next cut until next year. I’ve also decided not to buy any more bottled beverages or junk foods and cook at home for the rest of the year.

Honestly, because I save money on rent by being a house-sitter, I have a little more flexibility than the average person earning my income. And I don’t have children. I know it’s not easy for everyone to give this much. But I know we can all give a little to make a huge difference.

And some of you might be able to give even more!

Most religions of the world require their practitioners to donate up to 10% of their annual earnings to those in need. You don’t have to do that, but do what you can. Save the life you can. 

Why Give to Far Away Causes?: Your money will not only go farther there, but by providing those people with a better quality of life and educating them, you will reduce the fertility rate. As communities become more prosperous and women get more education and opportunity and infant mortality decreases, people have fewer kids. This is better for the world at large. Plus it means less greenhouse gas emissions. 

You can still give to charities here too. 

Resources:

1. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Diuv3XZQXyc&t=925s

2. https://www.givewell.org/

3. https://80000hours.org/

4. https://www.thelifeyoucansave.org/?gclid=CjwKCAjwqJSaBhBUEiwAg5W9p4FeFuw20G5auk1w_4cPMQwvDpZeR8Zs3psfuMQJv-Uy2YK7fJCuPRoC0F0QAvD_BwE

5. https://www.givingwhatwecan.org/

6. https://www.givingwhatwecan.org/donate/organizations#non-profits

History Rhymes

“History Doesn't Repeat Itself, but It Often Rhymes” – Mark Twain.

My grandma named me. She named me before she met me. My parents had trouble conceiving and I was not born until 10 years into their marriage. For Indian people of their generation, this was unusual. Most of my cousins have children my age.

But my grandma scolded the universe until it bent to her whim.

Gurpreet, she called me. It means one who loves the enlightener. 

There is a superstition in many cultures that a name has power and significance far beyond the ordinary. That our names decide our fortunes and and fates.

It’s fun, if not a bit self indulgent, to wonder if my name helped shape my curiosity and perspective on the world. Perhaps just the idea that names have power, a principle I call The Rumplestiltskin Rule, subconsciously helped shape my identity in some way. Perhaps I wanted to live up to my name and the expectations that came with it. 

You may wonder then, why I go by Gia instead. This is a complicated question. 

I started using Gia as an alias in college when I submitted poems for publication. Then I started using it in class. UW was big enough that even in my smaller classes, no one knew who I was. I could be anyone. I wanted to explore different aspects of my identity and distance myself from the child I was. Gia means life force in Sanskrit, but it sounded Italian too and I had fallen in love with Italy when I went. I liked the simplicity of Gia and the cultural ambiguity of the sound. And it was easier for people to pronounce so I didn’t have to waste time teaching people how to say my name. 

I did not want them to have my true name on their lips. 

A name they could not fully value. 

I could not give anyone that power anymore. My family are the only ones still allowed to call me Gurpreet. 

If names have such power, what of the namer. The person who dubbed me, me?

What power must she wield? 

My grandma is an absolute badass. My grandfather died when my dad was just 12 years old, leaving my grandma to raise 5 kids all under the age of 12 in a rural farming village by herself. She’s tough as nails and nearly impossible to please. She’s not afraid to be disliked for saying what she needs and expects. 

As a woman in America, this is true power to me. 

She was very blunt, aloof, and demanded excellence and obedience from everyone around her. 

But she was always gentle with me. 

For a brief time when I was a child, my grandmother lived with us. She only survived a year or so here before she got fed up with America and demanded to be returned back to her village in India. 

She hated the closed door policy of most neighborhoods here as she was used to leaving her gate open to wandering passerby. Her friends in her village would stop by for tea and cookies and some afternoon gossip. She could easily get around there. She spoke the language there. She belonged there. She had such a strong sense of home and she hated being away from it.

I could see how much she missed home when we watched Indian films. Especially when we watched Gadar. 

Gadar is an early 2000s film that showcases the partition of India. It’s a love story but also a bit of a historical chronicle. I’m sure it takes some liberties, especially with the ending, but it must have had enough truth for my grandma was always silent and riveted as she watched.

It is heart wrenching to see the loss of life and the horrific violence and hatred that spread between the two newly minted nations of India and Pakistan. 

My grandmother lived through that brutal division. 

After centuries of British rule, the monarchy beat a quick and clumsy retreat from its most prized jewel of a colony. They left broke and disorganized, ruined by two world wars. They rushed the division and drew the maps all wrong without taking into account the cultural and tribal and geographical relations between the people they were tearing apart.

The communal tensions that had been stoked by the British proved to be at a boiling point and an unstoppable tide of violence swept the country. Trains full of corpses began to be exchanged across Pakistan and India along the now split Punjab region. Women were subjected to sexual violence. Many villagers committed ritual suicide before the opposing groups could strip them of their dignity. Millions were displaced and without home or shelter.

It is a bleak time when a mother cannot wish her child a long life. 

But considering what happened to many women, including pregnant women having their bellies split open and having their babies roasted on spits, I can understand the assisted suicides that took place. 

Sikhs were caught in the crossfire between Hindus and Muslims. Not really belonging anywhere. 

This is a deep homesickness that Sikhs often carry with them to this day. 

I remember watching my grandma tearing up at the imagery.

I remember that she would ask me to play the movie almost every afternoon after I returned home from school for many weeks. I would complain back then because I wanted to watch cartoons. I didn’t quite realize then that the film was allowing her to express some latent trauma, to see a part of herself that she was never allowed to openly grieve until now. 

Because I grew up with this knowledge that human nature can be devastatingly fickle and that chaos and order are always balanced on the edge of a knife blade, every time global politics became tense, I waited to see if it would come to us here. Here in America. This little burg of denial.

We always seem to escape the brunt of what goes on in the world. But for how long?

The war in Ukraine has me deeply concerned. It reminds me of the intrinsic tensions between India and Pakistan. Two Brothers who still have nukes pointed at each other over Kashmir to this very day. A bitter rivalry that has raged since 1947. It’s a conflict that has taken much from both nations, but the greatest victim is Kashmir itself and all the potential that was quashed.

I get so tired just thinking about how long Ukraine might be fighting this fight. 

But I get frightened even more thinking about it ending quickly, either with Ukraine beaten into submission or with this whole ordeal reaching a tipping point where we would all be swept up in the pyroclastic flow of this nuclear Vesuvius. A mass scale Pompeii of our own making.

Because I do not see Putin turning to reason. Not now. Not ever. Not with his other cronies sprinkled all across Europe. Italy, Hungary, Belarus, and even parts of Germany and France seem in line with Putin’s agenda. Even US Republicans have entertained authoritarian notions and love for Putin and his ilk. 

And the scariest ally of Russia seems to have become Saudi Arabia. America’s unwieldy mistake. The Middle East in so many ways, is a monster of our own making. The United States and its weapons manufacturers have pumped comically dangerous weapons into the region for decades. 

The House of Saud, the royal family of Saudi Arabia has gotten more powerful and hostile since the rise of the younger charismatic and single minded leader, Mohammed bin Salman became the Crown Prince. He has arrested, detained and killed some of his own family to prevent any contest for the throne. He had journalist Jamal Khashoggi tortured, murdered and dismembered in the Saudi Consulate in Turkey and never batted an eyelash about it. 

He used Trump as a puppet to stock pile even more weapons than the Obama administration had already supplied him. (Because when it comes to foriegn policy, even Democrats suck.) 

He promised equality and social reform for women then had female activists like Loujain, jailed, tortured and sexually assaulted for years to silence them.

And just a few days ago, MBS fist bumped Biden looked America dead in the eye sockets and then cut oil production, sentencing the world to another price hike at the pump. 

This act hardly seems sinister compared to some of his other actions, but when you consider that oil prices are being artificially bolstered to increase the profits of OPEC (including Russia/Putin) so they can continue to fund their many unjust proxy wars and butcher countless innocent lives, it’s the worst thing in the long term. 

I was hoping with fewer allies, Putin’s arms supplies would run low before America’s did. However, with the Saudi’s now involved and Turkey and Iran already having supplied Putin, it’s a different story. America is in no way running short on weapons, but after over 14 billion in support to Ukraine, we are running out of weapons we can send to them without tapping into our own reserves. We are burning through ammunition faster than it can be manufactured.

I still don’t think Putin has the support or morale needed to quickly beat Ukraine. But this alliance with the Saudis is troubling indeed. 

Since Iran and Turkey seem to hate the Saudis, I’m interested to see how this pans out. Especially with the current state of Iran and its citizenry on the brink of revolution. 

And what of China?

These shifting alliances and rise of nationalistic rhetoric all around the world are definitely reminiscent of the previous world wars. With one big difference. 

America is looking more and more impotent in comparison to the dick wagging that’s happening around the world. The other nations have caught up, if not surpassed us in technological capabilities and imperialistic ambition. 

Our skilled workforce is significantly lacking and the country is divided against itself. Hell, half of Republicans were into Putin and Putin style governing during and after the Trump presidency. 

The word Nazi has lost all meaning as it’s just used by both sides to refer to each other with little regard to it’s fascist ties. 

And with the level of misinformation and online trolling, it’s hard to unite behind a single cause like we once did.

That’s why history rhymes. It's not exactly a repeat. It’s different. There’s no way to predict what will happen next. But it’s familiar enough to be exhausting. If you know enough history. You know this will get worse before it gets better. And that it will be horrific all the way through. 

It is always the poor and powerless that suffer the most. The Kashmirs, the Yemens, the Ukraines. But at least Ukraine has western support. Many of the other little nations are left to defend themselves and slowly watch as their hopes and potentials are blown to hell with bombs manufactured by Lockheed Martin.

The resolution to these conflicts won’t be easy, and perhaps is not even possible. Perhaps we are past the tipping point and what comes next is inevitable. A domino effect worthy of the film V for Vendetta. But if we could do things differently, not sell weapons to countries with undemocratic values, invest in our own infrastructure and health, and stop putting profit before people and planet, we may actually slow or reverse our demise. 

I’m just less certain we are capable of it every day. 

As frustrated as I get, I still remember that most people are good. So good. 

And we find a way to live our truths, speak our truths and stand up to evil in our own way every day. Just like Loujain. Just like Jamal Khashoggi.

Just like my grandma. 

I’m scared to go back to India. Not because of the political turmoil, although that is troubling. Not just because the air travel is exhausting and the time change makes me sick.

But because it would break my heart to have to leave my grandma again, knowing I will most likely never see her after that. 

Perhaps that’s cowardice. I haven’t been back to India since 2007. I was 15 the last time I saw my grandma. She cried when I left. I cried too. Feeling like I would never be happy again. 

That’s why I can’t go back. To have her call me by my name again and see all the years that had passed in my absence. This tie to a place that was once my home but is now so changed. It would kill me. 

It was violence towards the Sikhs and lack of opportunity that drove my dad out of India. Away from his mother and home. Maybe, I got a better life, but a half life. It’s the blessing and the curse of the immigrant, to always be homeless yet home everywhere. Like a snail or a tortoise.

The last thought I will leave you with on part 1 is an old Sikh fable I grew up with.

Nanak traveled much to spread his message of peace. Along the way he encountered a very violent and corrupt village. He offered them a blessing. He said “I hope you will always dwell here and never leave.”

He then passed a very peaceful village full of love and kindness. He cursed them saying I hope you will be scattered like seeds to all corners of the world. 

His traveling companion, Bhai Mardana asked, why did you curse the good and bless the evil? 

Nanak replied, because I know where the good scatter, they will take their message of good and kindness with them. They will sow good wherever they go. The world needs that.

The evil should stay here, lest they infect the others. 

It’s a bittersweet story. I would like it more if evil didn’t seem to spread anyway since the internet allows all ideas to carry the same weight and into the minds of so many. 

Also, it’s a rather cruel universe that would expect good to come from trauma. 

But I suppose it’s up to us to be the antidote to the indifference of the universe. What other choice do we have? 

The lesson I always pull from this is, do good wherever you are because it takes root and then spreads. That’s your true power. That’s often what keeps me going when the news is as bleak as it has been for too long. No matter the outcome, it is the doing that is important. 

But what is it that we can do to maximize our positive impact on the world? How can we take action right now in a meaningful way? I asked myself the same questions. In part ll of this blog post for October 2022, I’m going to share with you the research I’ve been doing on ways to change and help the world and you’d be surprised at the impact you can have. 

Please check out part ll: Changing the Rhyme: What We Owe the Future and how to give it. How to build a better world starting now.

(If you are interested in learning more about global politics, please check out the in-depth coverage on PBS’s Frontline program. It’s available on YouTube. And as always, find a good book like William Macaskill’s What We Owe the Future or Peter Singer’s Save the Life You Can.)

Looking for Ladybugs

August slipped away so warm and quiet. It was all blackberries and blue skies. I feel like when you really feel that summer has arrived, it’s almost over.

It’s hard to remember being cold right now, but I know a damp drizzly November is not too far off. I’m just not quite ready to let summer go just yet. I’m still hunting for ladybugs.

There’s still a shiver of delight that swells inside me every time I see one. They were a mark of summer for me. I would slip out into the woodsy backside of our property, back when parents let their kids wander off unsupervised, and wander through the grassy patches and blackberry bushes to see how many lady bugs I could find. 

It was particularly satisfying to find one with an unusual amount of spots or distinct coloration. My mom had taught me a little chant to sing to them. If a ladybug lands on you, it’s considered to be a good omen. And when they fly away, they take bad luck with them, cleansing you. At least that’s what I came to associate with them.  

If I didn’t find a satisfactory congregation in the yard, I’d hop on my bike, sometimes with my little sister in tow, sometimes alone, and ride off to different neighborhood nooks to hunt for ladybugs and to feel the crunch of the street beneath my tires and the wind whooshing against my ears. It felt like the days lasted forever. They rose up slow and cool and quiet with a gentle hum of lawn mowers in the distance.

I could watch cartoons in the morning, ride my bike and wander around all afternoon, come home for lunch and a nap or read a book and still have time to wander around barefoot in the evening with a popsicle dripping down my arm with the dog in tow and smell of barbeque in the air. There was always such an expanse of possibilities when you can spend all day dreaming and planning.

I know it doesn’t sound like a lot. Especially with how much busier my schedule is these days. But then why does it feel like I used to do more back then? Like I was pulling more out of less. 

Oddly, 2020 felt like a childhood summer to me. I know all the horrible things that happened. I wish they didn’t have to. But I don’t feel bad for enjoying how big and open the days felt.

I relished every morning I woke up without an alarm and no commute. I loved that I suddenly had time to stand still again, to look for ladybugs. Sadly, my backyard does not supply them like it used to any more. I think we had plants that attracted them that have since been removed. Or it’s a climate thing. I did find a few while on my many walks that year. And it was glorious. 

Since 2020, I have encountered more of them. Perhaps because that year taught me to look for them again. To look for the little delights that are hidden around me. The little bits of magic.

This year has felt like it was on fast forward. Like we all wanted to cram two Covid years into one. It’s been exhilarating to accomplish so much in such a short time. Though, I’m always floored that it still never feels like enough.

My summer has raced by and I have been panting to keep up, despite the joy I’ve found in creating and doing. 

Summer was always a time of rest in childhood. Now I work markets and other jobs so don’t get the down time I used to. 

Now fall has become, instead of the start of the academic, the start of my hibernation. I still like to do my shopping in the fall, a force of habit fueled by the desire for cozy new sweaters and socks, but now instead of adding more activities and work to my to-do list, I wind down and rest. 

Besides reading, baking and maybe some art, I don’t plan on doing much this fall. I started off September with planning my days off and giving myself a four day labor day weekend. 

Though I struggle with feeling like I deserve down time, most likely stemming from culture that conflates your worth with hard work and money. To stop working is to stop mattering. But I told myself to shut up and take a nap. 

I baked and binged watched Bridgerton and relished in the escape.

My birthday is September 15. I’ll be working from home that day and then I will be taking Saturday and Sunday off from market duty. I love the farmer’s markets, but I’ve decided I deserve a weekend to rest and celebrate the choice I get as an adult to make my own schedule. Sometimes I’m still likely to forget I have that glorious godlike power to choose how to spend my time. 

That I am not as bound by obligation to things as I think I am. That I can step away when needed. It’s a good reminder. An exercise in rebellion. A kindness to myself. 

I hope you’re kind to yourself too. Enjoy the last few days on the cusp of summer. Feel the fall roll in. Count your ladybugs while ye may. 

Love,

Gia

The Chameleon

"We continue to shape our personality all our life."

- Albert Camus.

"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed."

- Carl Jung.

 Last month I mentioned how our environment can help to shape us. Houses in particular. Our built and natural environments influence how we interact with each other and even how we feel about ourselves. But what is the self that these environments are shaping? 

I feel there is a constant tension between what’s possible and what’s not. I’ve always been obsessed with possibilities, with potential. What am I capable of? What are we capable of?

I had a (former) friend once call me a social chameleon. Personally I find this to be an asset but I don’t think she meant it as a compliment or counted it as a skill. I was, in her eyes, being disingenuous somehow. 

“I know you.” She kept saying. “And lately you’re just so different. And you hang out with such different groups of people.” Mind you, she did not say these were bad people nor did she think they were bad influences. Just that they were “different”. 

I found this proclamation so very reductive. 

You know me, huh? Well, lady, I’ll tell ya, I’m just learning to know myself. But I’m glad you have me pegged, categorized, and put away. As if you could sum up a human being in a sentence or two. I never responded to her. Not in words. In fact, I haven’t spoken or interacted with her in more than 5 years now. 

Needless to say that there were other reasons I stopped talking with this friend, not just that one statement. But this was definitely a breaking point for me. I mourned the loss. This woman meant a lot to me. We had been friends since the 4th grade.

I’ve spent years pondering why this statement ruffled so many of my feathers. 

Most likely because of how little compassion there was in her perception of me. So little understanding of how complex emotions and behaviors can be. So little accountability on her own end. 

After high school, I found myself distancing myself from certain friends and friend groups. Not because those people were bad people, but because as we grew and explored our world and ourselves, we found we were not as compatible as we once were. Maybe our values didn’t line up any more. Or were they always different and we just never realized it?

I think there’s this illusion of familiarity that made people want to control and police who they thought I was. And maybe I realized I couldn’t wholly be myself around certain people. My family included at times.

Change scares the hell out of people. “I know you.” They’ll say. Be who I think you are! Be who I want you to be.

Isn’t “Never Change” one of the most common yearbook taglines? 

How pedestrian. 

Another reason being called a chameleon by a white woman was so insulting is that she, being one of my closest childhood friends, knew my family. She knew I had a completely different culture at home to cater to. Different expectations. A different language. A whole other personae. 

But to call either one duplicitous is so…wrong. We contain multitudes. 

I am both Gurpreet and Gia. And everything that comes with both those identities. 

But what does that mean exactly? And why study the self anyway? I’m still figuring it out, but mostly what I find is that You are the instrument through which you filter reality. Learning more about yourself is learning more about everything else too. And vice versa. I have more access to myself than any other item of study. So that’s where I start. 

There’s no coincidence that I call my website giaology. The study of Gia. Gia or Jiya in Sanskrit means life force. 

It seems the study of the self has been a hot topic of discussion through the ages. It’s something notoriously difficult to pin down and honestly, mostly ineffable. Just like describing the sunrise. It’s something you can mostly just witness and feel.

The Chinese thought it came down to the elements of fire, air, water, and earth. The Greeks thought it was the four humors (blood, yellow bile, black bile, phlegm). I’m sure each culture has some sort of breakdown of how to read people and categorize them. 

This includes Freud’s id, ego, and superego theory. (Why it wasn’t uber ego, I’ll never understand.)

Anyway, I happened upon an encore episode of one of my favorite podcasts, Ologies with Allie Ward. She had a personality psychologist, Samine Vazire of the University of Melbourne, Australia break down the latest standard for gauging personality. It’s called the Big Five theory and can be remembered by the acronym OCEAN.

OCEAN stands for:

 1. Openness 2. Conscientiousness 3. Extroversion 4. Agreeableness 5. Neuroticism. 

(In later years they have added Honesty and Humility as a 6th trait but I couldn’t think of a good acronym that included them.)

All of these traits exist on a continuum/spectrum and you and most people are usually some fun combo of traits. The essentials can be broken down like this:

Most people are a mishmash of each of the spectrums, I suppose. 

A great deal of these traits are genetic. New parents often comment to me how their baby’s personality is present from the get go. I knew this was the case, though I was surprised to learn just how much genetics influence personality and how difficult it is to change. Vazire in particular seemed pretty convinced that personality is pretty stagnant and difficult to change regardless of environment.

I respect Vazire’s perspective - she’s studied this much more than I have. Yet, I will say that I had some questions when I listened to Vazire’s views. 

Like, if we don’t change that much, why do cognitive behavioral therapy? Do we believe ex-convicts can turn over a new leaf? Do people deserve second chances if we don’t really change?

What about epigenetics? Genes are responsible for our personality and genes can change in response to the environment. 

What about neural plasticity? Our brain can rewire itself. And change - it does all the time. In fact, in cases of multiple personality disorder, the personality change can even trigger physiological alterations in the individual - so much so that it can flip diabetes on and off. 

The mind is no joke. Our mindset is responsible for much of our reality. If not all of it. 

If we don’t really change that easily, why did some people consider me a chameleon? My personality seemed different to different people and depending on what situation I was in. Was I an outlier? Was I really changing my personality or was fluidity a part of my personality? 

Many of my friends are having children so I’m learning about babies and development by proxy. One of the more fascinating facts I encountered is that human babies have to be taught how to breastfeed. They don’t instinctively latch on correctly. It’s a process for both the mother and child. 

“She had no idea what to do and neither did I. Somehow my husband knew the proper latch posture and adjusted her head. He read about it somewhere and she caught on quickly.”

I thought this was rather odd considering that most infant mammals make a beeline for their mother’s nipples with unnerving enthusiasm and accuracy. Even infants born blind like puppies and kittens can smell their way. Human infants are shockingly pathetic in that regard. We don’t seem to have much of an instinct for anything! 

I also learned that a 9 month gestation period is technically premature for humans. Many larger mammals, like elephants, gestate for nearly 2 years before their babies are fully cooked. So why do our bodies eject babies out at 9 months? 

Our large heads are largely to blame for this premature birthing. 

The birth canal is simply not large enough to comfortably pass much of any kind of baby, but if we continued our gestation until we were functional, we would destroy our mothers’ bodies (even more) on the exit, or not be able to be birthed at all due to our large melonheads. 

So our big brains are both the reason we are so pathetic at birth, needing to be ejected early, and the reason we survive; even though human babies may not even be able to feed themselves on their own, the one thing they are wired to do immediately, is learn.

This capacity is what allowed us to do all that we have done. Every road paved, every structure built, every war waged, every symphony composed, every star mapped, everything. 

This slab of meat sitting in our skulls is still such a profound source of befuddlement across fields. Such a wonder and mystery and both a source of awe and terror considering all that our minds are capable of. I happen to think that our brain's capacity to re-wire itself and change is evidence that we have the capacity to alter our personalities, much more than we may be seeing in current psychological studies. 

Even Vazire agrees it’s possible for personalities to change. She doesn’t believe it happens often or quickly - the leading cause of personality changes are trauma or extremely positive events. Even the addition of responsibilities like marriage, parenthood,or even a new job can alter people’s personalities.

I can agree with most of that. But my question is why is it that personality seems so static? Why is our culture so insistent that it stay the same? I personally believe personality is more fluid. And then I realized, that was the key. I believed I could change. And I didn’t think change was a negative thing. I have a growth mindset about life. I also believe in embracing discomfort. Learning happens only when the mind is in “disequilibrium”, confused, maybe even frustrated and working hard. This is uncomfortable. But I think this discomfort is important. And not something to fear. 

Many of the people I surround myself with also have similar beliefs. They often support me when things get scary or uncomfortable. I think this is why I’m able to explore ideas and change behaviors and create/alter habits a bit more readily than the average person. I’m not attached to any one version or interpretation of myself. 

Alia Crum, an American psychologist who is the principal investigator of the Stanford Mind and Body Lab, is probably more aligned with my own view of mindset. She might even disagree with  Samine Vazire’s more static view of personality. 

Crum’s research supports how mindsets and beliefs affect human behavior and in turn physical and mental health outcomes. Her work is a deep dive into the placebo effect. An effect that is such a strong indicator of recovery in patients that all scientific studies conducted in the US have to have a control group for placebo! 

Crum has found startling changes in people’s behavior and physiology that stem from nothing more than a change in perception. Just a thought entering the mind and the mind believing it wholly can create physical changes in the mind and body. 

How absolutely remarkable!

I will link to her TedTalk and research here: https://youtu.be/0tqq66zwa7g

Essentially her research further solidified in my mind that our personality can be much more fluid, but we as a society and our mindsets often keep people in little boxes their whole lives. And if we change - we are accused of being chameleons, disingenuous.

Some of our personality is performance. A holding on to an identity. We don’t like changing our Brand. And this is such a complex and social function. Charles Horton Cooley, an American sociologist at the start of the 20th century, said: “I am not who you think I am; I am not who I think I am; I am who I think you think I am“. We are constantly engaging in an act of self creation and that involves such an intricate dance of internal and external variables.

And then there’s the physiology of it all. I learned about the default mode network a few years ago. The default mode network refers to several areas of the brain that work in conjunction to form what we would refer to as the ego. This is the brain’s “autopilot mode” - it carries out certain tasks quickly and with little thought/effort and activates whenever you aren’t focused on a specific task or idea. What monks call the monkey mind. This is the opposite of the flow state or state of focus. The DMN is also the part of us that ruminates constantly on social interactions, how we come across, and where we fit in. It’s the part of us that processes the past and the future and imbues them with emotional significance. It’s the part of us that feels we are separate from others. It is, scientifically, where the self lives. 

And this structure is what fears death. The death of the self. Or what it perceives to be the self. 

See, it all comes down to self perception and belief. So much of who we are comes down to stories we tell ourselves about ourselves. The inner chatter. “I think therefore I am.” These thoughts can be positive or negative. We need to understand that what we believe about ourselves or what we believe about our experiences influence how we respond to others and events in our lives and how we behave day to day. “We are what we repeatedly do,” according to Aristotle. 

One of the main functions of the default mode network is to help us avoid death as long as possible. If this structure, influenced by either nature or your cultural/social perceptions of identity, views a change of personality as a death of sorts, there’s reason to believe the default mode network will try to avoid large changes in personality. The brain has a strong filter for anything that doesn’t line up with its existing notion of reality. The left hemisphere in particular hates uncertainty. It likes predictable routines and measurables and control. However, it is the right hemisphere that really is responsible for emotion, compassion and whole picture thinking. If you remove the lens of the default mode network for a bit and realize the self is often illusory, and a construct, then you are free to reform it. To re-write your story. 

Some psychoactive drugs can temporarily dissolve the default mode network, or quiet it’s neural activity. This brings one firmly into the present and removes the feeling of separateness. An almost god-like state. This can cause lasting changes on individuals including increased feelings of compassion and generosity. This temporary disabling can allow people to forge healthier neural pathways and decrease negative ruminations. Decrease this and you effectively lower levels of neuroticism and even increase levels of openness. These are key factors of personality. So you can effectively change aspects of personality by re-setting the default mode network, in my opinion. Here's Michael Pollan explaining it some: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c71BY2RzZjY

Psychedelics and medication certainly influence our default mode network, but so does meditation. 

Much like Alia Crum demonstrated with the placebo effect studies at Stanford, Dan Harris, linked here (https://youtu.be/FAcTIrA2Qhk), can be found quoting studies coming out of Harvard documenting the benefits, both mental and physical, of meditation. The original psychedelic. 

Mediation is so powerful, it is not only documented as boosting the immune system but creating such profound changes as increasing gray matter in key areas of the brain associated with compassion and self awareness, and decreasing gray matter in areas of the brain associated with stress and anxiety. 

Meditators can actually alter and control their default mode network more readily than non-meditators. They can create happier healthier selves. And they are not born this way. Meditation is a learned behavior. It is a skill anyone can learn. 

I can guarantee you that the top performers across the world are gifted meditators. Athletes, actors, dancers, soldiers, teachers, musicians, none of them could do what they do so well without being able to quiet the default mode network and focus on the present. Without controlling fear. It’s something anyone can learn to do with the right help and practice. 

I myself was an anxious and sickly child. Some of those neural pathways still flare up for me. But I have gotten so much better at creating new paths for my mind to travel with meditation and chemical aid that I know I’m a different person now than I was when I was younger. Stronger and kinder, even. I still get scared, I still lose focus, I still fail. I’m just way better at reducing the damage these things do to me and way better at having more positives than negatives. I spend less and less time being a prisoner of my default settings. 

I also had a toxic competitive streak. With training, I’ve gotten better at viewing others as collaborators rather than competitors. And I’ve learned to let old notions of myself go so that I can better distill who I’m becoming.

I hope more and more people will view changing one’s personality not as disingenuous but as more fully embracing one’s own complexity and possibilities. Because where would the world be if caterpillars were too afraid to become butterflies?