刺し子

Some people have clear dreams and goals from a young age—and some are able to make them come true.

That wasn’t the case for me.

 

When I was in elementary school, I dreamed of opening a flower shop or a nursery, growing and selling my own plants. We didn’t have a garden at home, so I grew flowers in wooden boxes I collected from a fruit shop. Eventually, that dream faded.

 

Later, I loved swimming and briefly imagined becoming an Olympic athlete. I enjoyed reading novels and writing, and for a time I wanted to become a writer. At 17, when I traveled to Hawaii, I thought becoming a flight attendant might be a good path. After getting my driver’s license, I fell in love with driving and even dreamed of becoming an F1 racer.

 

At 19, I moved to the United States and studied photojournalism in college. I thought I might pursue that path, but I eventually left my job as a media coordinator when I realized it would leave me with little time for what mattered most to me—my garden and my animal family.

 

Before receiving my green card, I worked many different jobs: at a duty-free store and souvenir shop, detailing cars, gardening, and even growing South American plants in a greenhouse. After I became a permanent resident and got married, I worked for a Japanese company, a subsidiary of Mitsubishi, without thinking deeply about what I truly wanted to do.

 

Then, in 1993, my life changed.

 

I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer.

 

My father had passed away from liver cancer less than a year after his diagnosis, so I chose to focus on healing through a holistic approach centered on a macrobiotic diet. During this turning point, I studied macrobiotic cooking and Yin-Yang philosophy at the East West Macrobiotic Center in Los Angeles.

 

I was deeply committed to healing, and I devoted myself to studying and practicing natural remedies and macrobiotics.

 

At that time, I never imagined I would one day teach or share my knowledge with others.

 

But as I recovered, people around me began asking me to share my experience. In 1995, after starting a new role as a macrobiotic consultant at Erewhon Natural Foods Market, I taught my first macrobiotic cooking class.

 

I later became a certified macrobiotic nutrition counselor through the Kushi Institute and graduated from massage school. My husband, Eric, is a chef, and together we started a macrobiotic meal delivery and private cooking service, along with offering healing practices such as Shiatsu and Reiki.

 

Eventually, we opened a macrobiotic vegan restaurant, Seed Kitchen. Running a restaurant was both challenging and stressful, and after eight years, we made the difficult decision to close it.

 

Six months later, I became seriously ill again.

 

I was diagnosed with stage IV non-Hodgkin lymphoma and was given only weeks to live. Because the cancer progressed rapidly, I chose to undergo chemotherapy to save my life, while continuing my macrobiotic and holistic practices. These helped reduce the side effects of treatment and once again reminded me of the importance of living in balance and caring for my health.

 

I can hardly believe that nearly 30 years have passed since then.

 

In 2020, the pandemic brought another turning point. I stopped teaching cooking classes and returned to long-held passions: sashiko, natural dyeing, and growing organic plants.

 

Macrobiotic philosophy teaches that everything is always changing, and I felt it was time to embrace a new direction.

 

Then, an opportunity came—to teach a botanical workshop alongside sashiko.

 

I was happy to teach again.

For me, teaching is sharing my practice and lived experience.

 

I usually enjoy solitude. Much of my time is spent at home with my animal family—working on textile projects, tending the garden, and occasionally offering counseling and healing work. Teaching workshops allows me to connect with others while maintaining that balance.

I was surprised and grateful that the sashiko workshops were more popular than I expected.

 

 

In my workshops, I begin by sharing the history and fundamentals of sashiko. I teach how to hold the fabric and needle, how to prepare the thread, and the relationship between fabric and thread through itokoki (糸こき)—a process of smoothing the thread by running it through the fabric.

Thread length is also personal. I explain it as the distance from one’s fingertips to one’s heart—a connection between heaven (the heart) and earth. Each person finds their own length.

 

Drawing from my background in macrobiotics, I weave in the essence of balance and Yin-Yang philosophy. For beginners, I often introduce kome-zashi (rice stitch 米刺し), a type of hitomezashi pattern created from hand-drawn grid lines. I chose vertical lines as rising stitches—a symbol of beginning.

 

When participants begin stitching and see the patterns emerge, they often say, “Wow, it’s so beautiful.”

 

It is a simple yet profound pattern—one that reflects balance, mindfulness, and quiet beauty in daily life.

 

I teach sashiko regularly at the Japanese American Cultural & Community Center (JACCC), Tortoise (TGS) in Venice,  and Wildfiber Studio in Santa Monica. 

 

I’ve also received invitations from the Visions Museum of Textile Art in San Diego, among others.

Sashiko is not only about visual beauty—it reflects wabi-sabi, the beauty of imperfection and authenticity. Stitching slowly, one stitch at a time, calms the mind and nurtures presence.

 

It encourages us not to ignore stress, but to acknowledge and move through it.

It also supports a sustainable way of living—extending the life of clothing made from natural fibers through mending and reinforcement.

Being able to share sashiko in this way brings me deep joy—truly, a “wow” feeling.

 

I don’t know where this path will lead, but for now, I am simply enjoying the journey.