What Kind of Person Are You?

On Saturday evening,  I took the long, neighborly stroll from my apartment in Mission Hills to Old Town. We set out with the intention of dinning at Sushi Tadokoro — upon arrival we were told they were booked through the evening. Teetering on the verge of hanger,  we went straight to Indian Grill.

If you're a San Diegan, I know what you are thinking: who goes to Old Town for sushi or Indian food? We do! 

Having finished the Autobiography of a Yogi on Saturday afternoon, the thought of Indian food saturated my thoughts all day. After reading Paramahansa Yogananda’s description of their feasts, I craved Punjabi Tandoor — my absolute favorite place to eat Indian food in San Diego. Since I was unfamiliar with Indian Grill’s menu, I asked my server to select me the “best vegetarian entree”. When it arrived, it could not have been further from what I envisioned myself eating — she brought me the biryani.

I often ask my servers to surprise me and nine times out of ten, it works in my favor — I typically receive something incredible, a dish I may not have personally selected.

On Saturday, it backfired.

In my head, I saw myself eating a creamy curry concoction, full of spice, rice or lentils, and steamed vegetables. I imagined myself dipping our garlicky naan into the overflow of sauce on my plate. Instead, before me was a large heaping of Indian fried rice, no sauce for the naan in sight. The dish was spicy and dry; far from the decadent, juicy meal I had fantasized.

I nonetheless take full responsibility for my dissatisfaction, the waitress adhered to my guidance — it was vegetarian and to her, the biryani may have been the best vegetarian item. 

At dinner, I knew what I didn’t want — I did not want a dish with meat. However, I did not take the time to specifically address and/or seek out my desire and I left feeling discontented.  

While writing in my journal later that evening, I reflected on the experience and it brought me back to a question that had plagued my week… “What kind of person are you?”

The question was initially asked spitefully a week ago on Wednesday — after I made a decision that misaligned with someone else’s life views.

Then, Jacki Carr more delicately re-presented the same question with different verbiage on a short phone call on Thursday afternoon. Jacki asked me to consider what my values are and what my legacy will be… Questions that required me to not only be cognizant of what I didn’t want but intimately familiar with what I do. 

With great clarity, I am now able to answer the question, What kind of person are you?:

I am passionate. Passionate about love, life, and inspired, hard work. I am thinker, a learner — constantly on a quest for new knowledge and insights. I am emotionally, physically, and mentally open and strong. I am a whole person — I refuse to compromise any part of myself for anything or anyone. I am reader, a writer, an adventurer, a yogi, a runner, a teacher, a student, a volunteer, a sister, a daughter, a girlfriend, a friend, a best-friend, a consultant, a coach, a strategist, an artist, a dreamer, a traveler, an eater — I am a believer.  I believe the good for me and you is better than the good for just me in each and every single situation and I choose to only surround myself and have relationships with people who believe that, too.

I am Julia Jane Sparkman and I am sure that the person I am today will continue to grow, evolve, and change, so I’m certain you’ll meet a newly developed version of me soon.


Missteps Happen, So Do Miracles

As I waited outside the agency’s parking lot, I knew something was off when Ken did not answer my text right away. Ken was a mentor at my first collegiate internship — we bonded over walks through the West Loop, before it was hip.

As an intern, I was new to and struggling with the prolonged durations of sitting indoors that are inherent to office life. Through my short experience at the agency, I learned that Ken is very dutiful. Therefore, I knew something was wrong and it was my fault; he would have let me know if something changed. 

My life is dictated by my Moleskin planner. In my planner, I wrote his visit to San Diego on 10/30. I checked my phone, message from Ken, lunch on 11/6.  Throughout history, I have only made this mistake once before — thankfully, both times have caused zero negative repercussions. I was still perturbed by my mistake — my week was jammed pack and I could have used the extra space. Extremely hangry, I debated heading home to use the free-time to catch up and pack for the weekend. Instead, I went to Trilogy Cafe.  

At Trilogy, I immediately ran into one of my best-friends, on her birthday! She had been on my mind all day, as I was disappointed to be missing her party due to my trip to the desert. As I ate my favorite tacos and coconut ice cream and brownie, I literally beamed with gratitude over my scheduling mistake — it led me to CiCi!!! Then, on my way out, I had a meaningful conversation with a friend — a conversation that set some positive things in motion. 

That evening, I drove to Borrego Springs, California. As told in A Trip to the Stars, I chickened out on my first nighttime trip to the desert a couple of weeks back— a creepy encounter with a car on the side of the road kept me in the car versus under the star light, where I wanted to be. Had I stayed outside of the car on that first excursion, I probably would have not scheduled another trip back out. 

After a stop for sushi dinner in the small town of Alpine, California,  I arrived to La Casa del Zorro shortly after 10PM on Friday. Even after viewing the photos online, I was so surprised by the expansiveness and luxury of our room— truly first class glamping. We set our alarm for 2AM, I wanted to lay in the middle of the desert under the stars late at night (then crawl back into a comfortable king size bed). 

By the time the alarm went off, I was dead asleep on my plush pillow. We groggily layered up and headed to what appeared to be a makeshift gauntlet for star-viewing. The resort constructed a large, walled, roofless structure for stargazing on the border of the premise. While Borrego Springs is in the absolute middle of no-where, the few homes and businesses within the 10 mile radius do give off some light — the archaically designed structure helped provide maximum darkness. With nothing but our hoodies on, we laid right in the middle and watched as three shooting stars streamed by. 

As we crawled back into bed shortly after 3AM, I set the next alarm for 6:30AM. 6:30AM was a little harder to get out of bed for and thankfully, it was more fulfilling. 

Moments before sunrise, the sky transformed to a deep, light blue. I felt as if I was walking to the place were the sun started. I swear, if we walked a mile closer , we could have practically touched it as it creeped onto the horizon.

Blazing over the edge, the mountains glowed with a purplish-pink-red hue; the sky, a greenish blue. It was surreal — astral.  As the sun smoldered into the sky, round with a, gaseous haze, we sat down and meditated. 

The energy I experienced in those moments is indescribable. Kind of like a, “yup, you’re on to something” feeling. Later that morning, after breakfast, I journaled over my gratitude over wimping out on the first trip — initially, I viewed my behavior during my first stargazing journey to Anza Borrego as “bad”. 

Had I had a “good” trip, I probably wouldn’t have come back to the desert for awhile. 

Had I not come back, I would have missed out on an incredible sunrise, followed by an overpriced hotel breakfast, a dip in the hot tub, journaling by the pool, a major defeat during a game of ping-pong, lunch at a restaurant straight out of the 1970s, a visit to their local Art Gallery, a trip to the metal sculptures, a hike through Palm Canyon Trail, apple pie, ice cream, and cider in Julian, Whole Foods macaroni and cheese, AND an 8:30PM bedtime, followed by 10 hours of sleep. 

Missteps happen, so do miracles.  


A Trip to the Stars

(Photo from 2014 trip to Palm Canyon in Anza Borrego Desert State Park)

(Photo from 2014 trip to Palm Canyon in Anza Borrego Desert State Park)

Shortly after I began reading Nicholas Christopher’s, A Trip to the Stars, I moved to Encinitas, California — a sleepy beach town known for its surf and abundance of yoga. Having moved from Chicago, I was mesmerized by the countless bright spots in the Encinitas’ night sky.

Encinitas is the perfect backdrop for reading Christopher’s intricate tale of Enzo and Mala’s connection to the stars. Completely engrossed in the novel, I found myself constantly talking about the hours right after twilight. On one occasion, my friend CiCi told me Encinitas seemed dim in comparison to the desert and a trip to the desert stars immediately made my bucket list.

A year later, the thought of desert stars continued to float into my stream of consciousness and at the beginning of October, I put a Trip to the Stars on my calendar. The moment I wrote it down, I knew I would drive to Borrego Springs, California. I had hiked the Palm Desert Trail in the Anza Borrego Desert State Park several times and I feel a connection to that area. 

On the evening of October 17, small butterflies floated into my tummy an hour or so before we were set to leave. My thoughts have not been the same since I marathon-watched Criminal Minds on Netflix a few months ago. Visions of a roadside attack flooded my mind — images of myself running breathlessly through the dark night. Mark Twain was so right when he said, “some of the worst things in my life never even happened.” 

The drive East of San Diego was more challenging than I had expected. Having previously struggled with the drive during the daylight, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. I did not anticipate the struggle I experienced though— the psychedelic, tunnel-vision effect of the lane markers streaming alongside my peripheral vision. The prominence of the lane makers became staggeringly apparent when I attempted to turn my fog lights on and accidentally turned off my headlights —the depth of the darkness literally made my stomach drop.

With my bare-toes on the gas pedal, the thoughts in my head sounded like The Little Engine That Could… “it will be worth it”… they said. At the perfect moment, a turn in the road slowed me down enough to catch a glimpse of the stars. A rush of fulfillment and excitement flooded my body and it gave me energy to make it to the pull-off overlooking the Anza Borrego State Park from above. 

Slowly rolling into the valley, my ears crackled and the temperature steadily rose. Reaching the pull-off was exhilarating,  partially because I was so proud of myself for finding it. I turned off my car headlights and the night sky popped — my eyes widened in an attempt to take it all in. Viewing the Milky Way for the first time was breathtaking; a gaseous-swirl encompassed in darkness with millions of tiny lights shining.

It’s moments like those that keep me searching for more. 

The etherial vibes I experienced quickly diminished as a car approached and pulled-off. My heart raced as I watched the two men in the back seat duck down and cover their heads. Then, just as quickly as they pulled-in, they immediately circled around and continued in the direction they came from, I was bewildered and terrified. 

I raced to get back in the car. I’m brave, but the darkness was suffocating and I felt vulnerable. Flooded with feelings of defeat, I was eager to drive down into Borrego Springs — the tiny town situated at the foothills of the valley. It was shortly after 9PM and we found an open restaurant, Big Horn Bar and Grill, that served Julian apple pie, a major win — the warm apple pie and ice cream slowly made up for what I thought to be the start of my life manifesting into a Criminal Minds episode.

After pie, we walked down the small main street until it ended at the modernly misplaced Borrego Springs Library. It almost felt as if we were invisible as we watched several people walk into the only two places open — a lively bar and taco shop — I wondered if they were locals or visitors, like us. 

As planned, we walked back to our car to return to San Diego. Once we made it out of the valley,  we pulled over again. This time, since we could see the stars from inside the car, we did not have the courage to get out.

The darkness was indescribably frightening, it probably had something to do with the mountains lurking over us on both sides of the road. And, while I know the adage “better safe than sorry” easily applies to pulling over on a dark, abandoned highway in the desert mountains in the middle of the night, I regret not getting out of the car. 

The view from the car was incredible, but it was nothing like the experience of being outdoors. I swear, you can feel the light from the stars, just like the sun. Fear robbed me from experiencing that sensation again and that’s something I’ve journaled about throughout the week.

How often do I let fear hold me back from fully experiencing life?

What other cars am I metaphorically sitting in right now? I was there and I worked hard to get there, but I stayed in the car... Why? 

I’m obviously going back to the desert and next time, I will frolic — if anything, 10/17/15 reiterated the importance of the Japanese proverb: fall seven times, stand up eight. 

What's Worth Doing Even if I Fail?

Before jetting off to Chicago on Friday afternoon, I downloaded a few Podcasts for the flight. The first show I added to my archive was Episode #12 from Elizabeth Gilbert’s Magic Lesson— her guest was Brene Brown, I was eager to listen to two of my greatest inspirations converse about “Big Strong Magic.” 

The dialogue did not disappoint. The two demystified the notion of collective creativity and they advocated for a painless, joy-filled creative process. Brene shared her experience being a “creative martyr” and Elizabeth soothingly said, “As long as we stay locked in this idea that creativity can only be born through suffering, sacrifice, pain, and torment, it will always be born through suffering, sacrifice, pain, and torment.”

History is wrought with stories of artists’ suffering; it was comforting to consider creativity evolving from joy and love — instead of the agony that has propelled artistic works for centuries. 

My biggest take away from the thirty-five minute segment was a question proposed by Brene — “What’s worth doing even if I fail?”  I paused the podcast as they began to unpack the paradigm shift from the mindset of “What would I do if I knew I wouldn’t fail?” to deciding what’s worth doing in spite of success or failure.

Shortly after I finished the podcast, I was off the plane and reuniting with my sister, Tara — I was in Chicago to support her at the Chicago Marathon.

On Sunday, I woke up with Tara and walked her as close as I was allowed to the starting line. After we parted ways, I returned to her apartment and headed to Mile 3 with my older sister, Shelley, and Tara’s boyfriend, Curtis. Cowbell and rainbow flag in hand, we enthusiastically cheered for everybody until she passed. Once Tara breezed through Mile 3, Curtis and Shelley went to Mile 13.1 and I went the Mile 14.5, in front of the United Center.

The night before, Tara and I had planned for me to run from the United Center to Chinatown with her on the course, Miles 14.5 to 21. Tara saw me before I saw her (my strategy was to look right in front of me to avoid missing her in the crowd). It was hard for me to contain my excitement as we ran; she was doing amazing and I was SO proud. Shelley and Curtis waited for us at the Chinatown Red Line stop. At that point, Tara set off solo for her final push and Shelley, Curtis, and I raced downtown to be there for her finish.

That was Tara’s first marathon and her attitude towards the event was moving.

She inspired me with her focus and lack of egotism — Tara had never ran 26.2 miles before, she did not know if she could, but she did it anyways. 

On our way to the Jackson Red Line stop after Tara’s successful race, I was reminded of one of my failures, as we walked passed DePaul University. I went straight from undergrad to graduate school at DePaul. At the end of my senior year, I applied for a tuition-free, monetarily-stipend teaching assistantship.

I did not receive the position; initially, the failure crushed me. 

When I applied to graduate school, I envisioned myself as a full-time TA, completely immersed in academia. It took me a few months to let go of the sting, but by the start of the school year, I was excited to take on my hourly-paid research assistantships, investigating urban agriculture and community gardens.

The experience led me to Chicago’s notorious Fuller Park neighborhood, where I dug in the dirt and supported a community nutrition fair. After the research assistantship wrapped up, I received a teaching assistantship grading papers and I substitute taught various 100-level lectures. 

Since my academic obligations did not take up the space I had anticipated, I diligently focused on my yoga practice and enrolled in and completed my 200 HR RYT. Shortly after I completed my teacher training, I worked closely with a professor to develop an ethnographic field study in Kenya, for my thesis research.

Reflecting on that specific “failure” makes me think of a quote from Ghandi, “remember that sometimes not getting what you want is a wonderful stroke of luck.”

Tara’s uninhibited approach to her race and my positive experience with a past failure reignited a spark within me — I need to put more effort and energy into a project I am balking at. I’ve never done what I want to do before — launch an organizational communication and holistic wellness consulting business.

Thankfully, Tara inspired me to try anyways. And, I know it’s worth doing even if I DO fail — because as experience shows, failing isn’t the worst thing that can happen, anyways. 

Discipline Creates Freedom

In the yoga community, it’s not uncommon to gift a rock with an adjective describing the recipient written on it. In my collection, I have “lighthearted” and “alive”. I am known for my carefree, energetic disposition. Even my name, Julia, means “the youthful one”. 

Having the energy and the curiosity of a five year old has many advantages; however, it can often lead to a lack of productivity. In my experience, being everywhere, doing everything at one time is not productive. When I am overcommitted, I am disconnected from my work and my experiences and I feel guilty for not showing up 100% for myself and others. 

Learning to say “no” and focus my energy and attention on fewer projects has been my biggest asset recently. If it’s not fuck yes, it’s no. Over the weekend, I purged my apartment again and I outlined clear list of actionable tasks for October that align with the Q4 goals I set for myself at Goal Play (an incredible event my beautiful friend Sheri Matthews hosted with the wonderful women and men of Wildfire at Trilogy Sanctuary). Goal setting alongside my inspirational peers is something I hope to do again soon! Thank you, Sheri!!!

As an independent contractor, my schedule is sporadic and significantly different week to week. Approximately 24 hours of my week are accounted for, I teach 14 regular classes and volunteer on Wednesday afternoon. Weekly, my teacher training coaching dates and other private commitments change. I thrive with the dynamics of an evolving schedule, but it makes working towards larger goals challenging. 

In my opinion, clear goals and discipline are equally if not more important to highly-motivated people than they are to under-motivated individuals. I find my energy, fear, and curiosity often lead me down paths that may be interesting but not supportive of my vision and goals.

When I am clear about how I want to feel and where I want my life to go, I make better decisions that support whatever it is I’m working towards.

When I am unsure of where I am going and without a plan, I am simply spinning in space with no direction. Don’t get me wrong, spinning in space has landed me in some incredible spots. Yet, I know how good it feels to have a vision and create it (<—- I want more of that). 

At first, goal setting felt unnatural to me, I love adventure and spontaneity. Overtime, it’s grown on me and I’m hungry for it now. My goals are firm, yet flexible.

For instance, I have set a date to drive to the desert to see the stars at night time. Obviously, Julian apple pie will somehow be involved, but knowing me, no real plans will be made until moments before we leave. Goal setting is all about taking those things “you’ve always wanted to do” and actually doing them.

Listening to podcasts like, The Tim Ferriss Show, and participating on Zen Girl Mandy’s, Zen Girl Power Hour, call motivates me and provides me tools to stay on track. Last week, both the podcast episode and Mandy’s monthly call had the theme of “discipline”: discipline creates freedom. Upon reflection, I realized I had my most creative,  “best work days” when I stayed on task, when I was disciplined.

As a freelancer, it’s easy to get distracted by competing requests, so I am learning to schedule my “working” chunks of the day to ensure I am maximizing my priorities and not getting lost down the bunny hole known as gmail.com. 

Last week, per my goal, I scheduled myself to take Sarah Clark’s 12PM class on Friday. It is my goal to take at least one class a week with an inspiring, knowledgable instructor. It was my first time at Hale Holistic and I was not surprised to see “discipline creates freedom” etched within their manifesto on the wall. 

Lately, my freedom has come from shifting my morning routine to seven days a week; I've adjusted my schedule to allow enough time for the three mornings I wake up early. Everyday, I meditate, give thanks, and nourish myself before I leave the house. 

That brings me to sharing five solid disciplines that have worked well for me: 

 1) Establish a reasonable morning routine. Start simple, make your bed, hot water with lemon, sit with your eyes closed for 5 minutes, and/or move through a few rounds of Sun A. Starting small is better than doing nothing. Once it feels normal, add something new. 

 2) If I have 3-5 hours to get work done, I prioritize my time. I take a post-it note and write a list that resembles this:


-Clean Up Lunch

-Write Blog Post

-Post Blog Post

-Post on Social Media


-Sequence/ Playlist


-Clean Up

Seeing the big picture of what I need to accomplish and physically writing it down prevents me from checking my emails while I eat and posting on social media while I make my playlist. Prioritizing what needs to be done first and giving everything a clear order helps me to stay on track and inspired and it typically leaves me with extra time. Discipline creates freedom :) 

 3) Seek guidance and inspiration. Whether it’s in the form of a mentor, life coach, or self-study, keep being the beginner and seek wisdom from those who know more. When you know the most, teach others. 

 4) Journal. Even if it’s five sentences, get your thoughts outside of yourself. Make a gratitude list. Write your dream average day. Write your dream above average day. At the end of the day, describe your day: give yourself credit for something you did well and something you’d like to do better next time. 

5) Go offline more often. Leave your phone at home, turn your phone/computer on airplane mode as often as possible. Give your brain the freedom to think about what it wants to think about instead of being influenced by the thoughts of others. 


Finding Comfort in Discomfort

As a mindful hedonist, I understand the value of presence and purpose, but I naturally default to passionately pursuing life’s greatest pleasures. Documented in many of the stories I’ve shared on JuliaSparkman.com, even as a hedonist, I have grown to appreciate the challenges and adversities I’ve faced, as they have led me to many of my best moments — spiritually, personally, and professionally. While teaching, I frequently say, “find comfort in your discomfort”, as students practice deep hip-openers and other challenging postures, like savasana

What Great Thing Am I Working Towards?

What Great Thing Am I Working Towards?

I love traveling abroad. From the rush of the unknown to the exhilaration of new sights and sounds, I come alive in foreign places. Over the years, I’ve learned the best part about traveling abroad is the lack of connection. Wifi is generously available, but you still spend a lot of time offline, in-transit and walking around. I love the experience of being present without technological distractions. 

What's Stopping You?

What's Stopping You?

For years, shame and embarrassment have been my obstacles.

I have wanted to share my story, but the fear of judgement would hold me back. Keep in mind, the above passage is only about 10% of what has happened. Nevertheless, I know the experiences that I’ve had are happening to people RIGHT NOW. I want to show those who are silently suffering that it will be okay and it can work out (even better than imagined). 

Do What Makes You Feel Good

Do What Makes You Feel Good

I typically sit down with a clear idea and effortlessly write. Today, I had no idea where to start. I woke up tired and irritable. I did not feel well and my thoughts were foggy.  For once, I was not ready to share. Instead of forcing it or allowing myself to feel discouraged, I decided to practice what I preach: I let go of what I thought I “should” do and I took care of myself. I napped, I ate healthy, filling foods, I swam in the ocean, and I relaxed. 

Messages from Lizards and Giraffes

Messages from Lizards and Giraffes

Like many young Americans, I am persistently passionate about a handful vaguely related pursuits. For the last few years, yoga has always been my mainstay; but, I’ve weaved quite a few things in along the way. Up until now, I have not wholeheartedly ran after my destiny. I always keep one-foot in the safe-zone. I have gotten good at warping jobs into kind of looking like I was pursuing my destiny, but in my heart-of-hearts, I knew it was not my dharma; therefore, something I should not pursue. This week is my first week of doing entirely what I want to do (and it’s incredibly gratifying and equally terrifying).  

I Must Let Go To Receive

On Friday, I popped out of bed and went straight to work purging my apartment. I’m not sure what came over me; I neglected my typical morning routine and feverishly began sorting. When I moved from Chicago to San Diego last January, I reduced my belongings by 75%. Initially, it was hard to get rid of all the PDF articles and books I had held on to since academia and those “favorite” clothes I hadn’t worn in a year, but once it was all said and done, I felt liberated and free. 

It took approximately three hours to complete my project on Friday; and again, I felt like I had more with less. I found my favorite earrings I thought were long gone, I discovered $9 dollars, and most importantly, I made space for the things I really cared about and wanted to see. Over my sink, there is now room for the small painting of the township I volunteered in outside of Cape Town, the wooden giraffe I bartered for in Nairobi, the globe I bought at the Louvre, two small mosaic plates from Parc Guell, and the gemstones my cousin Margaux gave to me for my 27th birthday. All of those trinkets are more than memories; they are source of inspiration for future travel and global thinking. 

As always, at first, it was challenging to let go, but now that the clothes are on their way to charity and I can easily find the things I need, I feel so much more at home and at peace. 

That night, I went to Cafe Gratitude with friends. After dinner, we walked Christina to her car and in the trunk there so happened to be the exact size side table I wanted for my apartment and she gifted it to me! It was such a powerful manifestation of the practice of aparigraha. As I release the things that no longer serve me, I make space for new things that I need; I must let go to receive. 


Modern Mindfulness

Stick With It

Stick With It

Last December, my sister Madeleine and I traveled to Costa Rica. On the night of the 25th, I was inspired to write my goals for the 2015 year. It’s impossible not to be inspired in Costa Rica. Everyone is happy, everywhere is beautiful, and the land is vibrant and free. Tired from our adventurous day at Manuel Antonio, Madeleine went to bed early and I ventured down to the community patio at our resort. With sounds of jungle creatures and celebratory groups as my soundtrack, the words flowed. I did not have to think about it, it just came to me. 



Yoga is one of those things that kind of sneaks up on you, I am not sure what shifted, but at some point in time I let my resent go. Today, I appreciate and admire those accounts without letting them hurt my ego. I am proud of my practice and my mind is constantly blown by the way it unfolds. It’s not how it looks, it how it feels and as long as I am stretching and getting my head below my heart, I am receiving the same benefits as the yogis pictured in the gorgeous instagram accounts. 

Show Up and Suck

 Show Up and Suck

It’s impossible to show up and suck alone; to be a beginner, perfectly imperfect. Through my experience, I’ve needed that small push of encouragement from my mentors and ‘omies’ to keep going and to step out in ways that make me uncomfortable*. As I sit here, uncertain as to what’s next, I am no longer frightened by the unknown. I know the best is yet to come because I am not afraid to put myself out there and “show up and suck” a few times before I find my flow. 

The Allegory of the Kindle Charging Cord

The Allegory of the Kindle Charging Cord

Gradually, the lesson I learned in that moment really took hold. I had had what I needed all along. It seems so simple but it hit me so hard… The solution was there, I had the “power”. I had simply not consider it as an option because it was not obvious.

365 Days in Southern Cali

 365 Days in Southern Cali

To summarize, the last 365 of my life were similar to a modern painting. It was confusing and messy and unconventional, but super beautiful and inspiring. It lit my soul on fire and I now have more strength and determination to live my mantra and fulfill my destiny! I am eager to share the experiences that emerge in the next 365 days and the wonderful things that come from my grit and tenacity.