foraging – The Woke Yogi

Ten Things I’ve Learned from Mycelium

Happy National Mushroom Month, everyone!!!

I am a massive mycophile—that is, I’m obsessed with mushrooms! My passion started from a young age; a lot of kids despise the taste or texture of mushrooms, but I would happily devour them. As I got older, I learned that there are so many more options than the bland button varieties that you can find in mainstream grocery stores, and I began to experiment with gourmet mushrooms in my cooking. To date, my favorite recipes include oyster mushroom shawarma, lion’s mane “crab” cakes, trumpet mushroom “scallops,” ramen noodles in shiitake broth, and cremini risotto.

Oyster Mushroom Fried Rice

Lion’s Mane “Crab” Cakes

I developed a craving for gourmet mushrooms that could not be satisfied by my local Kroger, so visits to Asian grocery stores and Saturday morning farmer’s markets became a weekly pastime of mine. I loved arriving at the mushroom vendor’s stand early in the morning so I could have first pick from their discount bin!

Yet, I also love to hike, and every time I wandered into the woods, I noticed little mushrooms cropping up along the trails. For years, I wondered if it might be worthwhile to venture into the alluring, unknown world of mushroom foraging. Every time I brought it up, though, I always got the same cryptic, bemused warning: “every mushroom is edible once!”

For too long, I waited for an experienced forager to come along and show me the ropes of their dangerous hobby. I thought that I couldn’t possibly teach myself; I needed an expert to show me how to distinguish between the yummy varieties, the deadly varieties, and the mind-melty varieties. After all, there are thousands of mushroom-producing fungi out there—I would have no idea where to start!

Enter Skyler, my partner and self-proclaimed mycologist. Skyler doesn’t believe that silly things like “scientific qualifications” should dictate what a person can and cannot do. Early in our relationship, we bonded over our shared interest in fungi, and he encouraged me to get out there and start foraging. So, we did. Armed with our brand-spanking-new copy of Peterson’s Field Guide to Mushrooms of North America, we headed up into the foothills of Boulder, Colorado and commenced our search.

Our first major victory was a gorgeous family of oyster mushrooms piled together on a stump beside a creek. At the time, we still lacked confidence in our identification, so we left the bunch there for the next round of hikers to enjoy its beauty.

Several months later, we were visiting Sky’s family in Pennsylvania when we drove past a tree with a mysterious white blob growing on it. Personally, I didn’t give it a second thought, but Skyler’s mycelial senses were tingling. He insisted that we return to the tree the next day, and sure enough, it was a massive growth of the alien-like Hericium Coralloides, or Coral’s Tooth Fungus! We still weren’t positive about our ID, but our meager few months of foraging had taught us that there are no poisonous Hericium varieties; even if we were wrong about the species, it was still edible. I cleaned the mass thoroughly, sliced it into thick steaks, and fried them up with some butter. It was on that day that Sky and I tasted our first wild find. I lifted a forkful of the mystery mushroom to my mouth and took a cautious nibble. It tasted like…chicken? I waited a moment to see what would happen. When I didn’t immediately pass out, I took another bite, and then another. It had a crisp, woodsy flavor that I had never experienced before—similar to the button mushrooms I had grown up with, but stronger, more intoxicating. I offered a plate to Sky’s parents, who graciously declined; they were obviously not as confident in our foraging abilities as we were. Fair enough.

Well, I am pleased to report that I did not die from eating the fruits of that forage. Ever since that day, I have been honing my foraging skills and growing more confident in my ability to identify edible species. The mycelium have taught me many things over the past few years, and I am happy to share some of their wisdom with you, here:

1. Looks Can Be Deceiving

One of the trickiest things for new foragers to navigate is the many mushroom lookalikes. Sky and I often refer to this meme when trying to identify a new species:

Take, for example, the loveable oyster mushroom. This fungus is prevalent throughout North America and considered a “choice” edible—that is, it’s delicious and versatile! But it closely resembles the Angel’s Wing mushroom, which is deadly poisonous, and the two are not easily distinguished by visual markers.

Can you guess which one is the Angel’s Wing?

Similarly, there’s the sought-after chanterelle, identified by its vivid orange color and concave cap. Yet, it is easily mistaken with the toxic Jack-O-Lantern mushroom, which shares those very same characteristics and can also induce severe gastrointestinal distress.

This is a trick question; neither of these are chanterelles or jack-o-lanterns 🙂

Take heed, amateur foragers: even if you feel quite confident that you’ve discovered a well-known, safe species, you should always cross-reference between at least two sources. I prefer to compare my Peterson’s Field Guide, which has illustrated images, with my regional guide, All That the Rain Promises and More, which includes color photographs. If I’m still unsure, I take a spore print and turn to my trusted mycological Facebook groups.

Besides, looking at a mushroom is rarely enough to positively identify it. If you ever flip through a fungal field guide, you’ll notice that identification often employs many senses. For example:

The Gap-Tooth Webcap smells faintly of radishes, and the Ivory Cavalier has an odor of cracked wheat. The Beach Brittlegill smells like maraschino cherries!
The Orange Stump Mushroom, despite its name and corresponding color, drops purple-brown spores. The Lilac Bonnet has spores which are white or cream in color, even though its cap and stem are a light purple.

The Fragile Brittlegill will crumble easily in your hand, as its name suggests; the Scarlet Brittlegill has a thin layer of pink skin that can easily be pulled off its cap.
The Greenspot Milkcap has a tacky texture while young, which dries as it matures; the Almond Waxycap is sticky and smooth, but only when wet!

Too often, my friends send me blurry photos of mushrooms with their ID requests. Regretfully, I can rarely identify a fungus without investigating its texture and durability, the color of its cap, stalk, and bruises, the way its gills connect to its cap, the earth or wood which it grows from, or its spore print. Just as you should never judge a book by its cover, you should never try to identify a mushroom by a first glance.

Here, I must make a disclaimer: DO NOT EAT ANYTHING THAT YOU ARE NOT 100% SURE ABOUT! And please do not hold me liable for your foraging fumbles 😊 This article is purely for entertainment purposes: I encourage all aspiring foragers to first venture out with a more experienced hobbyist.

2. Water Gives Life; So Too Does Fire

The best time to go foraging for mushrooms is after a good rain. Mushrooms are merely the fruiting body of a much larger organism, the mycelium, which grows underground. Moisture seeping into the soil creates perfect conditions for mycelium to reproduce, indicating that NOW is the right time to push mushrooms out of the ground and spread spores, with the hopes of spreading or strengthening the mycelial colony.

Yet, mycelium is a complex organism that responds to many ecological factors, not just water. And of course, with hundreds of thousands of species of fungus out there, they each respond to a different set of factors during different seasons. Some need light, while some prefer to be shrouded in darkness. Some are particularly picky about soil pH, while others will literally grow out of concrete. An excellent example of this complexity is the coveted morel. Morels are notoriously hard to cultivate, hence their high selling price, but we mycophiles get quite a laugh every spring, when unsuspecting gardeners find massive patches of morels in their landscaping beds. They’re unpredictable, as mushrooms are wont to be.

NOT a morel! This is a stalked puffball.

Perhaps one of the most beautiful facets of the fungal kingdom is the Burn Morel. As its name suggests, this morel variety appears in burn sites in the years following a wildfire. The morchella fungus maintains a mycorrhizal relationship with conifer trees at any given time, just as other mycelium live in harmony with other types of forests. However, morchella (morel) mushrooms only fruit after a wildfire! Professional mycologists remain baffled by this phenomenon. However, it is safe to assume that wildfires return certain nutrients to the earth, such as carbon, which create the necessary conditions for burn morels to flourish. Unlike “natural” morels, burn morels are remarkably reliable and incredibly prolific in fresh burn scars.

Burn morels draw a striking parallel to one of my favorite aspects of Hindu/ Yogic mythology: The Destroyer. Unlike many Western philosophies, the Hindu tradition acknowledges death and destruction as an integral part of the cycle of life. There are two main destroyer gods: Shiva (male) and Kali (female). In their respective myths, both gods are responsible for burning the cosmos at the end of each age to make way for new creation. Much like the burn morels that surface after a period of great ruin, Kali and Shiva destroy the world so that life can begin anew.

3. Manage Your Expectations

Early in my foraging journey, I had such high hopes for every expedition. I thought that the choice edibles must be out there, if only I looked hard enough. I turned over every log, peered under every leaf, spent half of my searches clearing brush in the hopes that I would find just one morel.

Sometimes, it doesn’t matter how hard you seek—there’s simply nothing to be found.

As I mentioned before, mushrooms need precise conditions to fruit. Usually, it’s too dry; sometimes it’s too wet, or too hot, or too shady, or the mushrooms just aren’t feeling it that day. It pays to know where and when to look, but it also pays to manage your expectations. There will be days when you don’t see a single fruiting body, and there will be others where you can’t take three steps without seeing one. It all balances out.

Moreover, I have come to learn that a successful foraging journey isn’t always one that ends with a basket full of edibles. Yes, it’s nice to have something to show for my hard work (and to save some money on groceries!), but the fungal kingdom is a wild, whimsical world, full of plenty of fantastical species that are not meant to be eaten. Consider, for a moment:

A freshly emerged Amanita, the remnants of its veil stretching and tearing as it reaches towards the sky?
A velvety bolete, its stem bruised blue from close encounters with its forest kin?
An aged inky cap, its gills auto-digesting into pitch black sap that drips down in slow motion?

A razor-thin row of mazegills, curling themselves into a pristine Fibonacci rosette?
A series of fluted bird’s nest fungi, their tiny cups filled with impossibly small spore eggs?
A blood-red russula, its cap melting and disintegrating into grey ooze as it is reclaimed by the earth?

When you stop searching the forest for only the things that benefit you, you can start to recognize the magic inherent to the natural world. In this way, you are sure to be amazed by every romp in the woods, whether or not you come home with dinner.

Come roll in all the riches all around you, and for once, never wonder what they’re worth!

4. Strive to Be Misunderstood

Mycelium is the primary decomposer of nature; its role is to break down decaying matter and return its energy to the ecosystem. As such, mushrooms tend to get a bad reputation as being associated with death and decay. While that may be true, we could not survive without mycelium—toxins would build up, poisoning our planet with stagnant compounds and odors of rot. Energy cannot be created nor destroyed, only transferred. Mycelium is the OG recycling facility—it undergirds all biological transformation and enables all life to continue.

Besides that, mushrooms are neither plants nor animals—they’re a secret third thing: fungus, of course!

We humans have more in common with fungus, genetically speaking, than we do with plants. That is because animals and fungi evolved from a common ancestor about 1.1 billion years ago. We also have fungus to thank for plants; when plants were first migrating out of the oceans, they lacked the root systems necessary to survive on land. They enlisted mycelium to act as their roots, transporting nutrients from soil to foliage, until the plants evolved to do so on their own. Mycelium is truly magical!

I am totally and utterly enchanted by fungus, but not everyone feels the same way. Many people turn their nose up when I mention mushroom pizza; still others’ eyes bug out of their heads when they hear that I’m serving up my fresh wild finds. If I’m honest, I like it that way—more mushrooms for me!

5. The Devil is in the Details

Mushrooms are sneaky! You’d be hard pressed to walk through the forest and not spot a tree or a bird or a rock. On the other hand, you could easily hike for several miles without ever spotting a fungus.

Mushrooms thrive in the moist, shadowy undergrowth: some live lonely lives underneath the leaf litter, while others crowd together in cramped clusters on the dark side of fallen logs.

Sure, some mushrooms are divas, like these scarlet bonnets that appeared in the middle of the trail near my house in urban Seattle:

But most mushrooms are shy things, hidden away behind brush and brambles. If you’re looking for the good stuff, you better be willing to wander off the beaten path and get your hands a little dirty. Sometimes it’s all about the angles—you may not spot a ground-level mushroom from your usual standing height, but if you crouch down, peer through the vegetation, tilt your head, close one eye…okay, close the other eye, visualize it in your mind’s eye…and then, poof! You may just spot something that you never could have caught on your casual forest stroll.

6. Every Day is Precious

Beyond the gamble inherent to eating mushrooms, I know many foragers who avoid mushrooms because they prefer the longer harvest seasons of other edibles: 2-3 months for blackberries, 4 months for rosehips, and 6-9 months for dandelions, to name a few Washington natives. By contrast, mushrooms are ripe and ready to harvest for a much shorter period: typically 1-3 days. This, of course, depends on the mushroom species—some amanitas, for example, take 24-48 hours to fully unfold.

Two photos of the same mushrooms, taken 24 hours apart.

Polypores, on the other hand, may live many months to many years, but their tough, leathery form makes them unsuitable for eating. It’s best to leave these fungus friends to their important ecological roles: parasitizing and breaking down dead trees.

Regardless, after the first flush, foragers have a very quick turnaround to get to fungal fruits before the other critters do. Day 1 is prime time to harvest your finds, which is why you should always head out on that first day after a rainstorm. Day 2 is when various forest factors begin to take over: bugs, mold, and dirt, among others. By day 3, most mushrooms begin to decompose, their fragile parts overtaken by the elements. Spores scatter; stems splinter; caps crack; the fruiting body liquefies itself, all too ready to rejoin the pine needles and crisp leaves marinating in the morning dew. By this point, it simply isn’t worth your effort to harvest, and you’d be better off waiting for the next flush.

7. Never Mind a Hitchhiker

If you can’t handle a few bugs, mushroom foraging probably isn’t for you…

…’nuff said.

8. Not Every Mushroom is Magical

8. Every Mushroom is Magical!

I think I speak for every mushroom forager alive when I say…

Stop assuming that we’re searching for psychedelic mushrooms! Psychoactive mushrooms constitute an inconceivably small fraction of the entire fungal kingdom. While psilocybes are native to every continent, so too are thousands of other fungi, many of which have amazing edible and medicinal properties that oft go overlooked. Fungus is the future: from cleaning up oil spills to curing terminal illnesses to protecting honeybees to solving mazes to crafting sustainable materials, the benefits of fungus far surpass the mental/ emotional/ spiritual benefits that may be gleaned from psilocybin therapy—although I do not at all mean to downplay the incredible healing potential for psilocybin medicines!

What I mean to say is that all mushrooms are magical, not just the ones that make you see God. Besides, if I always went out searching for magic mushrooms, I would be disappointed nearly every time.

9. Trust Yourself!

You don’t have to go foraging with the intention of eating whatever you find. Why not just venture into the woods and see what you encounter? Trust that you’ll see something incredible, and you will!

If Skyler had never convinced me to call myself an amateur mycologist, I might never have gone out in search of mushrooms. If I hadn’t worked up the nerve to try that Coral’s Tooth Fungus from a random tree in Quakertown, Pennsylvania, I might never have developed the self-confidence to make my favorite meal, oyster mushroom shawarma, every time it rains near my house. If you never try, you’ll never know. Trust that you’ll learn as you go—and if you don’t, at least you’ll have gotten out of the house.

10. We Are All Connected

Mycelium is the largest organism in the world. It weaves neural networks in the ground, stretching and winding for miles underneath every step we take. We may only see it when it fruits, but trust and believe that there is fungus among us—literally everywhere we go, from the untouched old growth forest to the most densely populated metropolitan hubs.

Even more incredible is the wood-wide-web, a network of mycorrhizal fungi that maintain a symbiotic relationship with tree roots. Trees and mycelium live together harmoniously; the fungi feed on decaying plant material, while the plants use the mycelium to communicate, warning one another of pests, drought, disease, and even allowing mother plants to share nutrients with their offspring, thus ensuring the longevity of the ecosystem. Mycelium connects the forest just as it connects us; by learning from, using, and loving fungi, we enter into symbiosis; we partake in the massive mycorrhizal network that links forest to forest, region to region, continent to continent. Indeed, we are all connected, and my short stints in the woods are mere reminders of our implicit interconnectedness.

Just a few days ago, I visited Mount Rainier National Park in my home state, Washington. As I wandered along a low elevation trail in the dewy morning air, I encountered a small bolete. I was fascinated by the way its yellow stem bruised deep blue under my touch; I crouched to snap a picture of its brilliant polychromatism.

Just as I did so, a family of three walked up behind me: a mother, a father, and a young girl of about 10 years. The girl bravely asked,

“Do you know what kind of mushroom that is?”

I admitted that sadly, I had forgotten my field guide at home; I couldn’t be sure of its edibility without a positive identification. After asking her what she knew about mushrooms, I showed her the bruising on the stalk and explained the process of fungal auto-digestion. She listened carefully, wide-eyed, nodding along occasionally. Then, she turned to her parents and said, with an air of self-assuredness impressive for a girl of her age,

“I told you she was a mushroom person.”

I will carry this title like a badge of honor: mycelium has taught me so much, and I am very proud to be a mushroom person!

11 Quirks of Seattle

Hello friends! As I am sure many of you know, I recently moved to Seattle, and it has taken every single one of my feeble brain cells to figure out this city. I traveled a bit before my move, but I’ll write about those adventures later—for now, I am completely enamored with the Pacific Northwest, and I thought it would be fun to share the first eleven quirks I noticed about this city.

Ever-Greenery (+ Pesky Ivy)

I was immediately struck by it on the drive up from Colorado. My Northwest-bound route was mainly monotonous: desert and dry shrub throughout Western Colorado, Northern Utah, Western Wyoming, and Southern Idaho. But as I wound down dark roads through Eastern Washington with a Uhaul trailer in tow, I found myself suddenly enveloped in lush forest. A light rain greeted me, alluding to the countless warnings I had received about Washington state’s climate. The towering hemlocks, firs, and cedars welcomed me in a way that Colorado’s flora never had.

After being here for a few months, the greenery continues to be the most comforting aspect of West Coast city life. I am incredibly fortunate to live half a block away from a forested park with over five miles of trails—my urban oasis with a surprising amount of foraging potential. I won’t even get into the insane greenery I saw on my recent trip to the Olympic Peninsula, which shall be a whole article of its own.

A good chunk of Seattle’s greenery comes from English ivy, which is quaint & cute cottage-core vibes….until you realize that it’s a rampantly invasive plant to this region. It takes over everything. I guess it’s good for the wildlife, though, because the ivy patch in front of my apartment is home to a family of large rats. Super fun for my cats, not so much for me.

Go Huskies!

Besides my unsatiable thirst for exploration, I was drawn to Seattle by a very exciting development: my acceptance to graduate school! Starting in the fall, I will study comparative religion and women & gender studies in South Asia. I am looking forward to building on my undergraduate research in Hindu women’s rituals and incorporating my new studies into my Yoga practice. The best part is that I’ve been offered a Foreign Language and Area Studies fellowship to complete this degree in exchange for studying Hindi (which I was going to do anyway).

I am also unbelievably lucky to have found an apartment near the university district in Seattle, so I live within walking distance of campus, and I am constantly surrounded by college culture. Though I don’t start classes until the end of September, I can tell that University of Washington (colloquially known as U Dub) students are full of pride in their school, and I am extremely optimistic about the faculty I will be working with during my two-year program.

Land Acknowledgements

Seattle occupies the traditional land of almost thirty indigenous American tribes, and the people here seem more aware of our continued colonization than most other places I’ve lived. I encounter land acknowledgments to the Coast Salish people and the Duwamish tribe almost everywhere I go, from natural landmarks to touristy urban destinations. I especially appreciate the ones at Snoqualmie Falls, which emphasize that sacred sites and resources were stolen from Indigenous Americans and commodified by colonial settlers. The Snoqualmie (meaning “moon” in Salish) region encompasses vast fertile valleys and a 268-foot waterfall, which was once coveted by indigenous Americans as a source of natural abundance and the birthplace of many formative myths. These myths speak of the Moon Transformer, Snoqualm, who birthed fire and trees from the sky unto the earth. The Moon Transformer receives offering from the falls’ water, so the land surrounding the falls served as ceremonial grounds and burial sites for the Snoqualmie people.

Unfortunately, the Snoqualmie land was settled by pioneers in the 1850’s, whereupon it was pillaged by loggers and later channeled into an underground power plant. Those hydroelectric generators still exist and operate today, appropriating the sacred energy of the Falls to provide electricity for surrounding areas. The natural marvel of Snoqualmie Falls, along with the power plant, continue to draw hordes of tourists that impact the remaining members of these indigenous tribes, as well as land back efforts.

While hiking at the falls, I was grateful to see plaques that were truthful about the power plant’s ugly history. Yet, written statements seem a feeble consolation for the native peoples’ loss of land, resources, and rituals. I wonder whether these acknowledgements are backed by tangible social action, and I must ask myself how I can make reparations to these indigenous Americans as I reside in their territory.

Water Water Everywhere

The wonder—and sometimes the terror—of living in Seattle is being surrounded by formidable bodies of water. Flanked by the Puget Sound to the West, Lake Washington to the East, and Lake Union in the North, there is never a shortage of water activities. I haven’t spent much time on the water since my summer in Tennessee, so I am soaking up my proximity to the ocean. Each morning, the tide recedes, making way for my newest hobby, the sister science to foraging in the woods: tidepooling!!! So far I have spotted anemones, starfish, hermit crabs, harbor seals, and sea otters all within thirty minutes of my apartment. I have never been an ocean girl, but I have a feeling I’m about to become one.

Lake Washington and Lake Union teem with wildlife, as well. Kaleidoscopes of swallowtail butterflies perch on the sandy beaches (fun fact: a group of butterflies is called a kaleidoscope!) while beavers build dams and Great Blue Herons dive for fish in the clear waters. I’ve been channeling my inner duck when I paddleboard through swampy enclaves.

Seattle Freeze

Okay, ouch. People warned me about this phenomenon before I made the big leap, but I wasn’t prepared for the honesty of the expression. “Seattle Freeze” refers to the tendency of Seattle residents to be cold, distant, and unwilling to make new friends. This disconnect has obviously been challenging for me as I attempt to find my people in this city. Seattleites aren’t downright mean—no, the freeze manifests in subtle ways, like the total rarity of smiles shared between passersby. The grocery clerk never asks me how my day is going, which isn’t an earth-shattering tragedy in and of itself, but my inability to connect with strangers has certainly hindered my transition. I’m used to the welcoming warmth of Coloradoans and the sickly-sweet hospitality of Midwesterners, so I’m curious to know why Seattle hardens everyone here. I fear I’ll succumb to the freeze if I stay here too long!

Native Fruit

My mom grew up in Tacoma, Washington and I fondly remember picking cherries from a tree in the backyard of her childhood home. Growing up in sub-desert Colorado, though, I always imagined that a backyard cherry tree was an unusual luxury, even in Washington. I could not have been more wrong. In hunting for mushrooms, I accidentally stumbled into the cherished PNW tradition of native berry picking. It was impossible to ignore—as I reached through thick brush to harvest an oyster mushroom, my hand met with a bushel of orange berries. I soon came to identify these enticing morsels as salmonberries, edible native fruits that have long been enjoyed by indigenous tribes. The Salish people ate the young plant shoots and the berries (which resemble salmon roe) with dried salmon, hence the name.

Once I worked up the courage to put my fruit identification to the test (by eating them and not dying), I discovered that the PNW is rife with streetside pickins. I have since found native thimbleberries, huckleberries, salal berries, raspberries, grapes, cherry plums, and blackberries—OH, the BLACKBERRIES. They are everywhere. The native species, rubus ursinus, is harder to spot as it grows close to the ground, but the invasive and incredibly noxious Himalayan blackberry has taken over every street corner and city park. While most edible berries have now gone out of season, the Himalayan blackberries are just now starting to ripen. I plan to take this opportunity to perfect my jam recipe. I have also honed my ability to spot poisonous berries, including snow berries and deadly nightshade. A tip for foragers across the world: 99% of aggregate cluster berries (like blackberries and raspberries) are edible, so munch away!

Cultivated Fruit

Finding free fruit on the streets is a novel thrill for me, but I have also noticed that people in Washington are crazy about their fruit in general, even the non-native cultivars. I moved to Seattle in time for peak fruit season, July through September, during which grocery stores and farmer’s markets boast fresh, locally grown peaches, apples, cherries, and numerous other stone fruits. If you’re lucky, you can catch the fruit vendor just after his daily delivery and enjoy divinely juicy nectarines that were picked and shipped from Yakima that same morning! Rainier cherries are the main summer craze, hailing from Washington state and named for the region’s beloved glaciated peak, Mount Rainier. I never would have guessed that two species of red cherry could combine to produce a new fruit that makes every other fruit’s taste and aesthetic value pale in comparison. Nonetheless, I have hopped on the Washington fruit bandwagon, and I now indulge in melt-in-your-mouth white peaches every morning for breakfast.

Daily Commute

I knew Seattle traffic was dreadful, but nothing could have prepared me for the haphazard road infrastructure, which necessarily accommodates odd land shapes formed by surrounding bodies of water. The specifics of the driving terrors I have encountered are not important, but I have finally drawn a conclusion as to why driving is so frightening here. I have driven through more than half of the states in the U.S.., and I find the middle states to be the easiest to navigate. Driving in East coast states like New York and New Jersey can be intimidating due to urgency and aggression on the road, while driving through the American South can be mind-numbingly slow and boring.

Somehow, driving through Seattle encompasses the worst aspects of both extremes. For some downfalls, I question the urban developers—why do they hate turn lanes? Why don’t they understand what signage is relevant? Why is the speed limit 25 MPH on every road? Most of the time, however, I ask myself about the people that commute in this city. Drivers, pedestrians, and cyclists alike seem to have very little regard for their own fragile lives. Suffice to say that my Yoga practice has become even more integral to my daily commute.

Ethnic Cuisine

Seattle boasts diasporas from many nationalities (namely from Asia and Pacific islands), so it comes as no surprise that the cuisine of the city is likewise diverse. Yes, there are espresso shops on every corner, but no one talks about the boba tea shops, of which there are twice as many. Indian food, Ethiopian, Thai, Vietnamese, Mexican, Italian…I could go on. If you want it, you’ll find it in Seattle. I haven’t done too much foodie exploration yet, but I do enjoy living near Din Tai Fung, a tantalizing dim sum restaurant in University Village.

The Rain (or lack thereof)

Ah, yes, the dreaded Seattle gloom. Before my move, I met so many people who lived in the PNW and moved away because they couldn’t stand the climate. Some emphatically advised me to get a “Happy Lamp,” while others just shook their heads and said sadly, “you’ll never see the sun.” I heeded their forecasts and bought a light therapy lamp off Facebook Marketplace as soon as I got into the city. The previous owner told me she was moving out-of-state: “somewhere sunnier,” she bragged, referring to Colorado. Indeed, Colorado boasts 300 days of sunshine, which makes even the coldest, snowy winter mornings feel bright and beautiful. In the meantime, Seattle was prophesied to be dreary all winter without even a good powder day to ease the pain.

I worried that constant overcast skies would affect my mood and my spiritual practice, but I came at a good time. The daily rains subsided in early June, and since then we’ve had an *uncomfortably* dry and hot summer. Historically, Seattle summers haven’t even been hot enough to warrant air conditioning in private residences. It’s temperate here year-round, traditionally with highs in the 80’s and lows in the 30’s (Fahrenheit). Sadly, climate change has brought heat waves over the city for the past few years, and this summer was no different. For two weeks in mid-July, temperatures passed 100 degrees every day, and Sky and I scrambled to keep our cats and reptiles cool with only a couple of fans.

I know I’ll regret saying this come January, but I’m looking forward to the Seattle rain that I was promised. We’ve had the occasional morning shower, but the lack of moisture is seriously impeding my current favorite hobby, which is of course…

MUSHROOMS!!!

My love for mycology was undoubtedly the #1 driving factor behind my West coast relocation. Sky and I have been getting more confident in our identification abilities recently, so we were itching to test out our skills in new territory. The timing of our move was perfect because we had an excellent month of spring mushrooms before the forest dried out. The park near our apartment has proved fruitful for smooth puffballs (edible), scarlet bonnets (inedible, but stunningly beautiful), and fly agarics (poisonous and psychoactive). My favorite spot so far is an adorable mossy clearing that flushes with oysters (edible and choice!) almost every week. Though we haven’t found much during the dry season, September is sure to bring enough moisture for the mycelium to fruit. I’m hoping for chanterelles this autumn!

Have you noticed the trend in my observations? I’m not sure that I’m cut out for city living…driving is unpredictable, a dark winter is coming, and let’s be real—shit’s expensive up here. Unsurprisingly, nature has been my saving grace. Whenever I need to escape this urban enigma, I can venture into the woods or hop on my paddleboard.

My Yoga practice has also been integral for my sanity throughout this wild transition, and I am proud to announce that I began teaching at a new studio called Shefa Yoga Roosevelt! I am so grateful to have this studio and community as I get oriented in my new life. I also adore having students who are receptive when I share traditional aspects of Yoga such as mythology, philosophy, and subtle body attunement. If you happen to be in the Seattle area and would like to practice with me, I teach on:

Tuesdays @ 6:00 AM

Saturdays @ 4:30 PM

Sundays @ 9:30 AM

I get one buddy pass for each class, so please reach out if the drop-in cost ($25) hinders your ability to practice. I would love to move and breathe with you, as well as hear your thoughts about Seattle. What did you notice first? Do you like the rain? What’s your least favorite thing, and why is it the driving?

Thanks for reading, and stay tuned for more on yoga & adventures in Seattle!

Historical States of America

A lot of people were surprised to hear that I embarked upon my cross-country road trip alone. As tempting as it was to recruit a friend to come along, traveling solo is just so liberating—and so much easier, frankly! All I had to worry about was me- my belongings, my schedule, my bucket list. I made time for the things I wanted to do and rested when I was tired. Plus, I had plenty of friends to meet up with along the journey, so I never had to worry about getting lonely.

Now that I’m home safe and sound, I am very proud to announce that only two things went wrong on the entire trip. I did lose my debit card in Virginia, but I had several other cards, so I was able to cancel it immediately and move on with no further thought. However, the biggest catastrophe was a story that I started in my previous article. Not only did I become frighteningly ill in a muddy festival campground, but I also inadvertently passed my illness (at the time, I thought it was food poisoning!) to my friends Georgia and Aron in Columbus. We all made it out alive, but the saga continues…

Apparently, some stomach viruses (like norovirus) can be transmitted both through improper food handling and through interpersonal contact. I blame an order of unsettling tater tots at Lost Lands for my breakthrough as Patient Zero. That’s why I thought nothing of it when Skyler reported feeling ill on the morning of the Eberhart wedding, almost two whole weeks after I had recovered from my infirmity. However, Norovirus is highly transmissible and apparently, quite rampant around this time of year. My best guess is that Skyler was in the wrong place with the wrong person at the Cleveland Airport.

Being the great sport that he is, Sky made it through an entire day of wedding festivities—church rituals, greeting strangers, meals, photographs—before excusing himself. It wasn’t until later that I recognized his symptoms as my own from a few weeks prior: vomiting, weakness, inability to regulate body temperature, and above all else, an intolerable, wrenching gut pain that feels like your organs are trying to destroy themselves. Never have I experienced empathy on such a direct level than when I was watching Sky suffer from the worst virus I have ever had.

That said, Sky was feeling better as fast as he had begun feeling sick—for both of us, the dreaded norovirus lasted no longer than 24 hours. Rather than boot and rally for a dubstep festival, though, Sky simply had to make it through the drive to Pennsylvania the following morning. We bid adieu to the bridal party and set off for Quakertown: Skyler’s hometown and the current residence of his father’s family.

Q-Mart: Quakertown, Pennsylvania

As the name may suggest, this part of Pennsylvania is historically known as the home of the Quakers, a religious group with roots in Protestant Christianity. When they gained popularity during the 17^th century, the Quakers were considered radical for their beliefs in pacifism, spiritual equality between genders, and religious freedom. Their settlements in the American colonies were hugely formative for the religious ethic in the United States, though the Quakers have long since moved on from the city that adopted their name.

Sky and I’s journey to Quakertown was much less a quest for religious freedom than it was one for family amendments. Though he has some not-so-great memories there from his childhood, I found it quite charming. Quakertown’s biggest appeal is the regionally famous Quakertown Market, a combination flea market/ farmer’s market/ bizarre liminal space that is open every week from Friday through Sunday. I heard plenty of stories about the affectionately named “Q-Mart,” ranging from whole boar heads being carted around to illicit drug deals in the corner stalls to alligators freely roaming the aisles. That said, nothing could really prepare me for the oddity that is Q-Mart. Each stall offers something unique, with some being fairly run-of-the-mill (like Sky’s stepmom’s all-natural body shop) and others being ridiculously specific (such as the vendor exclusively offering remotes). I greatly enjoyed the few hours I spent browsing the labyrinth of the Q-Mart.

Our other highlight from Quakertown was Sky and I’s FIRST EDIBLE FUNGUS FIND! Our eyes had been peeled since our bountiful harvest in Ohio (read about it in Magical Midwest), so when Sky told me he spotted a unique growth on a tree in his neighbor’s backyard, my interest was piqued! We ventured back to the yard one afternoon and sure enough, visible from the street, there was a massive formation of coral tooth fungus dripping off the side of the tree.

Don’t try this at home, folks! We grabbed some aluminum foil and pried a big chunk of the growth off the tree, leaving plenty behind for the inhabitants of the nearby woods and for the purpose of future sporulation. When we got home, we double and triple checked our initial identification across several sources. When we broke the growth into pieces, tiny teeth-like gills on every surface confirmed our suspicion. We had found an edible AND choice species! With a little butter, the coral’s tooth fungus grills up in a shockingly similar way and taste to chicken. It tasted SO FRESH, too! My veggie heart was very happy. Of course, we didn’t die, so we know the specimen wasn’t poisonous.

Underwhelming Bell: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Sky’s hometown is a mere forty minutes outside of Philadelphia, our country’s first capital city after the American Revolution. Naturally, I was intrigued by Philly’s rich history, so we made a day trip out to see some of the sights!

That…was a mistake. I know that Philadelphia has an appeal for some people, but I am not one of them. First, as I was driving into the city and trying to park near the Liberty Bell (first mistake!), I took ONE wrong turn and ended up across the river in Jersey. I did not want to be in Jersey on purpose, let alone on accident! I had to pay a $5 toll just to get back into Philly!

Then, I nearly had to square up with a meter maid. No sooner than I had stepped out of my car and walked to the parking kiosk did she come over and scan my license plate. I waved at her and told her I was paying- she insisted that I should have stayed with the car (???).

Our first stop was the Liberty Bell, and I was pleased that the entrance fee was free because the bell was quite underwhelming. I’m not even going to make a joke about how it’s cracked. It’s just surprisingly small, standing all on its own in a big room. Then, Independence Hall was shrouded in construction. I did enjoy seeing Benjamin Franklin’s grave, though, and then sitting in the park across the street to watch the squirrels.

Sky and I walked a few blocks away from city center to South Street, another hallmark of Philadelphia culture. We explored Repo Records, a used bookstore called “Mostly Books,” and enjoyed the extensive mosaic street art by Isaiah Zagar. His mosaic murals were once confined to one wall of a small building near his studio—an effort to revitalize the downtown area. As his unconventional public art grew in popularity, his murals began to stretch across other buildings and infect other parts of Philadelphia. In 2002, Philadelphia Magic Gardens purchased the property on which his mosaics resided to preserve his work for future public enjoyment. And here we are, publicly enjoying it! I found this story quite interesting, as Zagar’s mosaics were one of the few things in Philly that I did not find unsightly and disgusting.

Sky and I decided rather quickly to ditch our downtown parking spot and head up towards Manayunk, the neighborhood where my friend Madison lives! Madison and I met when we were roomies in Hyderabad in 2019. Since then, I’ve seen her in a lot of different places, from New York to Tennessee to Colorado, but I hadn’t seen her new apartment in Philly. When we arrived, one of my other friends from Hyderabad and Madison’s partner, Eli, was waiting for us, as well. I got to meet their turtle, Edmund, and we all enjoyed a delicious dinner of Thai takeout. I spent just one night with them before seeing Sky off (he sadly had to go back to work in CO). I journeyed to my next destination the following day, but not before completing my quest for the holy grail: a plant-based Philly cheesesteak. Silly, I know, but I found one made from tofu that tasted nothing like cheesesteak. It still hit the spot!

Taylor Swift's Infuriatingly Massive Beach House: Westerly, Rhode Island

Madison, Eli, and I formed a caravan as we headed north to Allison’s place of residence in Westerly, Rhode Island. Allison is another of my good friends from Hyderabad, and it is rare that we all get together, so Madison, Eli, and I were happy to make the arduous drive through Connecticut for a chance to reconnect. Did you know that there is only one highway that goes through CT—I-95—and it is apparently plagued by bumper-to-bumper traffic at all times of the day? The drive was infuriating.

However, it was all worth it when we made it to Allison’s family’s gorgeous house, located just five minutes from the beach. A little shack with a sign boasting “Fresh Lobster” welcomed me to New England, and I could already feel a shift from the volatile atmosphere of Philadelphia and New York. As I pulled into her neighborhood, I spotted an impressive patch of fungus, featuring suede boletes (edible!) and Coker’s amanitas (highly toxic!), though it took me the better part of my stay to accurately identify these species.

Allison, who has been bragging to us about her New England upbringing for years, was more than happy to take us around Westerly. The first iconic stop was East Beach, which hosts a lighthouse that is especially quaint at sunrise and sunset. We stopped in the first night and witnessed a brilliant display of oranges and reds as the sun rose behind low clouds. East Beach is also where Taylor Swift has her beach house, which is—you guessed it—infuriatingly massive. I mean, no one even lives there most of the year! We did spot someone moving around in the living room, though…maybe her parents?

On the second day, we visited the Newport Island cliff walk to take a scenic stroll above the beach and ogle at the other coastal mansions. We also went to the Umbrella Factory, a cute little village of local shops and restaurants that offer a variety of adorable Rhode Island souvenirs. The Umbrella Factory was also home to a full pond of ducks, a coop of rowdy chickens, a bamboo forest, some goats, and a very angry looking alpaca. As tempted as I was by all the handmade shell windchimes, I was plenty satisfied befriending the animals and discovering little families of grey bonnet mushrooms among the towering bamboo.

On my final day in the smallest state in the country, Allison and I returned to East Beach for the sunset, and what a lovely way to bookend this section of the trip! As the sun sank below the watery horizon, creating an ombre of fiery tones on one side, the full moon rose on the other side, creating a breathtaking fade of pinks and purples. It was the most stunning sunset I have seen in a long time.

Cannoli Feud: Boston, Massachusetts

When my time in Rhode Island was up, I took the commuter rail from Providence into Boston, where I was met by Cecelia, yet another of my friends from Hyderabad. Cecelia is the coolest and wisest art history nerd you’ll ever meet, so you can imagine my delight at being able to go on a walking tour of this historical city with her.

We bustled twelve miles across the city that day as we hit all the sights: Boston Harbor, the Freedom Trail, Faneuil Hall, Boston Common & Gardens, Trinity Church, Boston Public Library, Capitol building, and the Hatch Memorial Shell outdoor amphitheater. We even got to witness a [pretty pathetic] reenactment of the Boston Tea Party!

Cecelia brought me to Flour, her favorite sandwich shop in the city. For dessert, she enamored me with a thrilling tale of two feuding Italian American families who have long competed for best cannoli in Boston. Ultimately, she brought me to her personal favorite, Modern Pastry, and I have nothing to compare it to, but it was a pretty damn good cannoli! We each built our own, with Cecelia opting for crumbled pistachios on the ends while I went with the more traditional chocolate chip-dipped ricotta filling.

Olde Mystick Village: Mystic, Connecticut

After Boston, I had officially reached the northernmost point of my route. I stopped in Connecticut briefly on the way back South and decided to take a gander through the famous Olde Mystick Village. Much like the Umbrella Factory in Rhode Island, Mystick Village boasted an assortment of hippy dippy and other novelty stores. Allison and I had a blast sampling exotic honey flavors at Sticky Situations and fancy spreads at Extra Virgin Oil Store. I was completely enthralled by several other niche stores, such as Alice in the Village, an Alice in Wonderland themed tea shop, and Cloak & Wand, a Harry Potter inspired metaphysical supply store. While wandering through Dharma Jewel, a “Tibetan” store (I say ironically because the owner was white), Allison and I got a kick out of the exorbitant prices of henna cones, as we both remembered learning to do henna with cones that cost 10 rs. (about $0.13 USD) in India. Of course, the white shop owner had something to say about the cost of importation.

Don't Tread On Me: New York City, New York

Sadly, my time in New England had come to an end. Luckily, the drive southbound through Connecticut was far more pleasant than it had been northbound, and I rolled into Mount Vernon, New York City right on time to check into my AirBnB and meet up with my friend Jen. Jen and I met when we studied abroad in Yucatan, Mexico, and we bonded over our mutual fondness of the moon! Funnily enough, Jen was the last friend who I visited, in New York City, just as the COVID restrictions hit the first time. We said goodbye to one another in a panic as the Big Apple shut down on a frightening scale. Thus, seeing Jen in NYC again was a fabulous way to bookend the pandemic (if I can be so bold as to assume the worst of it is over).

Jen moved upstate because of the pandemic, so we were both equally excited to get back into the city and check out some its exciting exhibitions. Our first stop was “Treasures,” a free public exhibition hosted by the New York Public Library. “Treasures” displayed just that: treasures of all origins and values from throughout American history. Some highlights include the original written draft of the Bill of Rights, original illustrations from Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, set models of famous Broadway musicals In the Heights and Sunday in the Park with George (rest in power Stephen Sondheim!!!), and the original written draft of George Washington’s farewell address. Seeing the latter document in our first president’s own handwriting made me more emotional than I was expecting. Much of his advice is more relevant than ever now, especially his pleas to avoid political polarization.

We stopped at Jajaja, a vegan taco restaurant in the West Village, for some scrumptious plant-based eats since Jen and I are both vegetarian.

Then, we booked it over to “Happy Go Lucky,” an immersive art experience that I found in an internet search. Unfortunately, I cannot be pressed to recommend this exhibit to anyone. The design was poorly thought out and even more poorly executed. Very little about this exhibit could honestly be considered “immersive.” However, there were some fun moments, and the employees served us chocolate popcorn as a treat at the end!

After the art exhibit, we were on to Fraunces Tavern, where George Washington delivered his celebratory speech just after the British troops withdrew from the American colonies. This building now doubles as a museum, with a replica of the original tavern upstairs, and a functional, old-timey tavern on the first floor. This museum was also surprisingly moving, with several thoughtful exhibitions that critically examined the modernization of old flags and patriotic phrases such as “Don’t Tread on Me.” Of course, Jen and I stopped for a drink on the way out. You know, to get the full American experience! Then we made our way over to Clinton Street for a dinner at Ivan Ramen. We both enjoyed veggie noodle bowls before trudging back to the train that would take us North to our AirBnB.

National Mall: Washington D.C.

The next day was another long day, as I had never been to Washington D.C. and I had only allotted myself a single day to explore it all. In hindsight, I would have planned several more days in D.C. Admittedly, I was expecting my tour of the national mall to be extremely dull and dry (i.e. “this is where President Carter stood when he spoke on October 11. This is where President Reagan stood when he spoke on May 14. Etc.). I could not have been more wrong! Our nation’s capital, even the downtown area, is full of art, nature, and knowledge. The best part of all: it’s 100% FREE!

I had no one to meet in D.C., so let me tell you, I speed ran the National Mall like no other. I started in the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History and invested the most time there, it being my most anticipated destination. I enjoyed every exhibit, and especially loved how every path through the museum seemed to paint a narrative of life, death, and rebirth. The exhibit of taxidermy animal specimens was striking—until I wandered into the next room and saw each of the specimens’ intricate skeletons! The exhibit on Egyptian history also resonated greatly with me.

Next, I meandered down the National Mall and visited each of the public gardens: the National Gallery sculpture garden, the Hirshorn sculpture garden, the Smithsonian pollinator garden, the national botanical garden, and the Enid A. Haupt Smithsonian garden.

At Cecelia’s suggestion, I went inside the Hirshorn (Smithsonian Museum of Modern Art) to peruse the new Laurie Anderson exhibit. Thank goodness I did, because it was one of the most powerful collections of art that I have experienced since before the pandemic.

Laurie Andersen, a multi-media artist, built each of the rooms in this exhibit. Many featured small projections mapped onto innovative backgrounds, with people and animals repeating phrases in monotone. Others showed videos of Andersen’s performances, excerpts of her writing, and parts of her photo projects. The one that stood out the most was an experiment she performed where she would fall asleep in public and then document the dreams she had while sleeping. Her writing on the topic has certainly stuck with me for many months. My absolute favorite part of this exhibit, though, was the room that was painted floor to ceiling with nonsense phrases. Just a few unrelated sculptures filled the room, with the main attraction being the hand-painted words scribbled across every surface. Some of my favorite Andersen gibberish includes:

“Books are the way the dead talk to the living”

“Who owns the moon?”

“The many kinds of silence: The silence after you’ve said something really stupid. The silence in the middle of a deserted street at midnight. The silence after you’ve prayed.”

I took my sweet time marveling at Laurie Andersen’s meticulous paint job. Then, realizing that I had only a few hours before everything on the National Mall closed, I practically ran to the Library of Congress. I did not get to go inside due to construction, but I did get to view the exterior of the building, as well as the US Supreme Court Building, the US Capitol Building, and the Washington Monument. I finished up my afternoon in the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, which was also mostly closed for construction, and then took a sunset walk to see the White House and some of the other stunning architecture in Washington D.C.

There’s no way I could have accomplished that much if I had anyone else with me, and I still feel like I need another week in D.C. to check out the hordes of museums I missed. There you have it- that’s why you should travel alone. Because you can see three museums, five gardens, and five national monuments in a single day if you resist the urge to stop for ice cream. After visiting so many cities that were integral to the history and creation of America, I absolutely had newfound awe for my country, and I still had plenty of awe-inspiring destinations to hit. Make sure to subscribe so you can get notified of my next article documenting my travels through the American South and its stunning natural scenery!

Tag: foraging