When we talk about children and their future, we often speak in big, hopeful language, education, opportunity, potential. But the foundation for all of that is surprisingly simple. A child who is nourished can learn. A child who is hungry is carrying a weight no child should have to bear.

I know this personally, not as an abstract policy conversation, but as lived experience.

As a child, free school meals were not an extra convenience, they were essential. At times, they were often the most reliable meal of my day. Yet back then, access came wrapped in stigma. A different colored ticket, a heavy weight in a small hand. A quiet awareness that others were watching, and your simple need, made you different.

Those meals gave me something extraordinary, a sense of freedom and dignity that opened the door to learning. They helped me arrive in the classroom ready to focus, explore, and enjoy the simple wonder of being a child. That nourishment did more than sustain me, it nurtured confidence and curiosity, and quietly reminded me that I was worthy of care and possibility.

Today, millions of children across this country rely on school meals in much the same way. For many families, these meals are not supplemental, they are foundational. They are the difference between a child arriving at school preoccupied with hunger and the ability for them to readily engage with the opportunities to grow and flourish at school.

In the February episode of The Giving Garden® Podcast, I spoke with Erin Hysom, a child nutrition policy expert for Food Research and Action Center. Her work centers on ending hunger through thoughtful, compassionate policy. She described schools as environments where we are actively shaping a child’s future. Her message was clear; “children cannot reach their full potential if they are hungry.” Nutrition is not separate from education. It is education’s partner.

What struck me most in our conversation was how often we misunderstand school meals as an expense rather than what they truly are, an investment. An investment in public health, in academic success, and in the arc of a child’s life. Research consistently shows that children who have access to nutritious school meals demonstrate better attendance, improved concentration, and stronger academic outcomes. Teachers see calmer classrooms. Communities see healthier children.

Just as important is the role dignity plays in access. Programs that allow all students to eat together, without visible markers of income, remove stigma and create equity. They send a message that nourishment is a shared value, not a privilege reserved for a few.

Food has always been at the center of community. It is how we gather, how we care, how we signal belonging. When a school ensures every child can eat, it is doing more than filling plates. It is reinforcing the idea that each child matters, fully and without condition.

When I reflect on my own journey, I can trace a straight line from those cafeteria meals to the opportunities I was able to pursue. Hunger did not define my school day because someone chose to build a system that prioritized children’s well-being. That decision echoed forward in my life.

Ensuring access to healthy school meals is one of the most direct ways we care for our collective future. It is a practical act of compassion. It is policy shaped by humanity. And at its heart, it is a promise to children that their dignity, their health, and their ability to learn are worth protecting.

To learn more about how The Giving Garden works to create access to healthy meals for communities across the country, visit https://www.drhauschka.com/loyalty-program/

Listen to the episode of The Giving Garden Podcast on YouTube at https://youtu.be/L0gflPK1Z4U

The post There is Dignity in Nourishment appeared first on Karjaka Magazine.

Joy is not always loud. Sometimes it arrives like sunlight, quiet, ordinary, and somehow enough to soften the sharp edges of a hard day. I used to think joy was something you found after you earned it, after the checklist, after the milestone, after the next accomplishment. Over time, I have learned something simpler and far more freeing, joy is something we can practice, and we can build spaces that help it find us.

When life has felt heaviest for me, I have returned to what is still available. Not the grand plan, not the perfect timing, just what is true in the moment. There was a season when I stopped asking, “What am I missing?” and started asking, “What do I have?” And my answer was the same every morning, I had the sun. The sun made me smile every single day. It reminded me that even in the darkest moments, light returns. That is not poetry to me, it is a pathway back to myself.

Staying rooted, for me, has always meant staying close to nature. Not as a luxury, but as a practice. A few minutes outside, a hand on the bark of a tree, the pause you take when wind moves through branches, these are small acts, but they recalibrate something in the body. They return you to your senses, they widen your breath, they invite your shoulders to drop. They make space.

That same intention guided a decision we made at Dr. Hauschka Skincare USA when we created our home office. In 2018, we bought an old church and reimagined it as a workplace built for openness, collaboration, and care. As the space transformed, I kept thinking about what it feels like to move through a day without a window, without a glance of the outdoors, without that simple reminder that the world is bigger than your inbox.

So, we designed the office so every person could see outside. Every seat has a window. Every person has access to nature with a single lift of the eyes. It is a small structural choice with a human impact. It says, “You belong here, and you deserve light.”

We also reclaimed and repurposed the old wooden pews from the church, honoring their history instead of discarding it. We used the wood to adorn our walls, a reminder that beauty can be carried forward, that what once held people in community can still hold us, even differently. That is part of what joy looks like to me, respect for what has been, care for what is, and attention to what might still become. It took a village to realize this type of vision, and I have to thank my dear friend and architect, Everardo Garcia. His guidance and intuitive skills reinforced the idea that we can imagine and create beautiful spaces for community and gathering.

This understanding deepened during a conversation I had on The Giving Garden Podcast with Dr. Emiliana Simon-Thomas, the Science Director of the Greater Good Science Center at UC Berkeley, and one of the leading researchers on compassion, gratitude, and prosocial happiness. She said something that stayed with me, joy is not something we simply stumble into, it is something we cultivate through connection, kindness, and meaningful relationships.

We talked about The Big Joy Project, a global citizen science initiative that invites people to complete simple “micro acts” of joy each day for seven days. I loved that they made it small on purpose. As Emiliana explained, many approaches to happiness ask for a dramatic overhaul, but most people are already carrying full lives. The invitation is not to become someone else; it is to make a tiny swap. Seven minutes that might otherwise go to scrolling can become seven minutes of awe, gratitude, or connection.

She also shared research that challenged the culture of achievement so many of us are trained to follow. Happiness is not only about circumstances. A meaningful portion of well-being is shaped by what we do, how we behave, how we walk through the world each day. That framing felt like relief. It means we are not powerless. We have choices, even when life is complicated.

One of my favorite practices she offered was a “gratitude one, two, three,” say thank you, name what the person did, acknowledge the effort, then name the goodness it created. It can be a text, an email, a reflection while looking out a window. It is quick, but it changes the temperature of your inner world.

If I have learned anything as a leader, a mother, and a person still practicing her way towards joy, it is this, joy needs room. It needs the spaces between meetings, the light through a window, the walk that is short but honest, the moment you choose kindness when stress is begging you to rush.

Start where you are. Open a window. Step outside for three minutes. Send the gratitude text. Look for sunlight. Build one small corner of your day that welcomes joy in, then return to it again tomorrow.

To learn more about The Big Joy Project, listen to our podcast The Giving Garden Podcast on YouTube.

To learn more about Dr. Hauschka Skincare, visit drhauschka.com

The post Making Room For Joy appeared first on Karjaka Magazine.

The Art of Getting Through The Sadness

Luckily I can usually stretch this version of myself through the holidays by swapping The Cranberries out for Wrapped in Red, and my lumberjack flannels for my Christmas Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing sweater and a steady rotation of holiday brooches. But then there’s Deep-Winter Me, the one who is irritated by the sound of people simply existing indoors, feels personally attacked by a delayed train, and is one sad song away from calling it a day at 4:48 p.m. Enter: Seasonal Affective Disorder.

Seasonal Affective Disorder is unfortunately abbreviated as SAD, which feels so unnecessary. It’s what happens every winter when the sun disappears. Your motivation follows it, and suddenly even small tasks like changing your bed sheets feel aspirational. The important thing to know is that SAD isn’t just a personality flaw, a weakness, or a failure of gratitude. It’s science. Real, peer-reviewed, lab-coat science. When daylight decreases, your circadian rhythm—the internal clock that tells your brain when to wake up, sleep, and feel joy—gets thrown off. Less sunlight means less serotonin (the “everything is fine” chemical) and more melatonin (the “cancel plans, lower expectations, and go horizontal” chemical). In short: your brain is doing winter exactly as designed, unfortunately without checking your schedule or emotional availability first. But before you resign yourself to accepting low-grade despair and feeling like a half-deflated balloon for three months, I’m going to lay out some helpful tools that are equal parts research and non-peer-reviewed entertainment masquerading as solutions.

Since all of us here believe in science (Right? Just checking), let’s talk Vitamin D. It’s one of the few things your body makes because of the sun. When sunlight hits your skin, it triggers a process that helps produce Vitamin D, which plays a role in everything from bone health to immune function to, crucially, mood regulation. The problem is that in winter, the sun clocks out early, shows up late, and spends most of its shift hiding behind clouds and tall buildings. Fewer daylight hours mean less sun exposure, which means many of us are walking around quietly deficient without realizing it. This explains why you mouthed “Unbelievable” when the Trader Joe’s line wrapped through frozen foods, despite knowing this is always the price of entry. Low Vitamin D levels have been linked to depression, fatigue, and the vague but persistent feeling that life is happening to you instead of with you. In short, Vitamin D is essentially bottled daylight, which we can all take every morning as a small nod to the version of ourselves who used to wake up happy for no reason. Is it a cure-all? No. Does it help? Yes. Is it humbling to realize your seasonal despair might partially be solved by a $12 bottle from CVS? Deeply.

Then there’s the Happy Lamp. I’m fully aware the Happy Lamp sounds stupid and fake. It sounds like something Gwyneth Paltrow would sell you for $400 and imply your sadness is a mindset issue, and yet, against all odds, it actually works. Light therapy lamps are designed to mimic natural sunlight, specifically the bright early-day light that helps regulate your circadian rhythm. When your brain gets that signal first thing in the morning, it knows what time it is, what chemicals it should release, and most importantly that it does not need to spiral before noon. Used consistently, a Happy Lamp can help reduce melatonin production during the day while encouraging serotonin, helping to enhance mood, focus, and the fragile sense that maybe, just maybe, today isn’t a total wash. I sit in front of mine every morning like a houseplant that’s been rotated toward the window: upright, compliant, and hoping for the best. I won’t lie, sometimes it makes me feel like I’m in an episode of Black Mirror—but if winter insists on depriving us of real sunlight, I see no shame in tricking my brain with a well-lit lie.

Now, these biological approaches are very helpful, but on their own, they’re not always enough to undo the season’s subtle character assassination. Winter isn’t just a biological event; it’s a psychological endurance sport. Which is why we have to give ourselves things to look forward to, and aggressively. Planning a trip, a dinner, a concert, or even a really good soup-night can actually change your brain chemistry. Anticipation boosts dopamine and serotonin, meaning your brain starts feeling better before the thing even happens. This is where my corny-ass personality comes in. If you know me, you know I love finding reasons to celebrate. This past summer, a group of Gen Z gays told me that the way I earnestly and fully commit to every holiday gives off “major camp counselor vibes.” While it briefly made me want to hurt their feelings, they’re not wrong. Do I construct an annual advent-style calendar for October with daily tasks like “Whisper a secret to the wind,” and forward it to 200 friends to get everyone in the Halloween spirit? Yes, I do. Did I spend $100 on leg warmers, a body suit, and a dance belt to dress up as Jane Fonda for seven Pride-themed fitness classes that no one asked for? Duh. If you’re wondering why I’m like this, I have two answers. One: I’m a Midwesterner with a Pisces Sun and Leo Rising. Two: It works. If the world is going to be dark and cold, I’m going to be festive out of spite. Put that on my headstone. My candles are lit, my seasonal playlists are queued, and I will absolutely be making monkey bread for International Women’s Day “just because.” Joy does not need permission.

If all of that fails, you can always pull out the big guns: make out with someone. I won’t cite a study for this one, but kissing releases dopamine, oxytocin, and endorphins, all chemicals that tell your nervous system you are safe, desired, and alive. In a perfect world, this would be someone you burn bright for, someone you’d like to take to the Monet exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum and then rip all of their clothes off. If that person is still hiding from you, the good news is this doesn’t need to be someone you’re going to marry. Maybe you’re on the dance floor and you don’t even know their last name, or which diva they’d defend in an argument. Sometimes you just need a reminder that you exist in a body, and you’re not just exclusively living inside your thoughts. Winter is long. Touch helps. If a lip collaboration feels too far away or too vulnerable, I like to move furniture. Changing your physical environment gives your brain novelty, which is another serotonin cheat code. Suddenly, you’re not depressed, you’re interior designing. You’re not spiraling, you’re Marie Kondo refreshing energy and sparking joy. Is it possible that I’ve just pushed my sadness six feet to the left? Sure. But honestly, it looks a little better over there. 

The post Seasonal Affective Disorder: A Survival Guide  appeared first on Karjaka Magazine.

Cue the bells, dim the lights, and dust off the ‘emergency’ credit card. Because once again, holiday season is upon us. 

The final six weeks of the year tend to conjure up equal parts excitement and dread. Parties? Yes. Presents? Hell yes. That extra layer of fat on your stomach? Nooooooo.

On top of the tinsel, cookies, and questionable sweater choices this season brings, there seems to be one other constant: alcohol. You’re almost certainly going to drink more than you would any other time of the year. More booze, more often, earlier in the evening. Plus all the junk food and snack binges that come with it.

Despite all the potential disastrous fun that’s lurking, you actually can have a great time this holiday season – see your friends, eat and drink, stay out too late – without being hung over all month. And without getting fat by Christmas. But you need a strategy.

At the risk of sounding like a Debbie Downer, if you want to party, you’ve got to follow a few rules. Structure and guidelines will give you freedom.

Limit yourself to three drinks max 

An old drinking buddy of mine once said, “the third drink is the gateway to bad decisions.” I slurringly replied, “Yah that’s the truth,” and ordered another. The night didn’t end well.

Moderating yourself on a big night is easier than it sounds. Alternate mocktails with real drinks. Have a club soda or diet coke nearby so you’re not sucking down tequila all night. Or drink light beer (which is mostly water anyway). It will feel like you’re in it for the long haul, but you’ll be drinking a lot less.

So three “real” drinks is your limit. And two is even better.

Avoid fatty, carb-rich foods

Drinks and treats are equally to blame for your post-holiday waistline. And since it isn’t realistic for you to avoid both, you have to learn how to balance them.

On days where you have a holiday party, avoid starchy carbs like bread, pasta, rice, etc. And especially stay away from holiday sweets as much as you can. Eat as much protein and fruit/veggies as you can throughout the day so your body is nourished without the excess calories. 

Don’t drink alcohol when you’re hungry

This one may require some planning. Especially for after-work, early evening events.

As tempting as it is to have two glasses of champagne before the hors d’oeuvre tray heads your way, try to avoid this scenario as much as possible. Have a big lunch or some protein-rich afternoon snacks. And have a solid dinner plan for after the party.

Having some food in your stomach (and a plan for later) will keep you buzzing all evening instead of slurring and stumbling by 9PM.

Stay hydrated

This shouldn’t be too hard if you’re truly alternating mocktails and weak drinks for boozy ones. But regardless of what that looks like, drink water! Alcohol is dehydrating and you’ll thank yourself later for mitigating that.

And not just while you’re out. If you have a big holiday party coming up tonight, get ahead of your water intake early in the day. Sure you may have to pee all night, but it’s better than feeling like crap the entire next day.

Have a next-day plan 

Planning activities for tomorrow can help keep you honest tonight. Schedule a workout that you’re not going to miss. If it’s a class, trainer session, or workout with a friend, even better.

Even a holiday shopping trip can help you burn some calories and sweat a little. And while you can’t literally “sweat out the booze,” some post drinking activity helps get you back on track quickly.

How to take it further

The holiday season is full of health pitfalls, and they’re not all booze-related. 

I put together a quick and easy guide to help you navigate the holidays with ease so you can stay in control of your health and fitness straight into January. You can download it here:

Eat, Drink, and Be Healthy, Your Holiday Fitness Survival Guide.
https://drive.google.com/file/d/12eoqftbSf71WYdEROxGCzDzvuNMqRG7_/view?usp=sharing

The post How to Get Your Drink on This Holiday Season and Forgo the Fat appeared first on Karjaka Magazine.

Hi. My name is Jenny Joungblood-Kerekes and I’m an ex-event planner and ex-grant writer writing a story about planning my own wedding. The pictures are perfect, but the wedding was far from what I thought my “picture perfect wedding” would be.

I was never the girl that planned their wedding since they were little. A few friends and cousins hoarded wedding magazines, but my young eyes were more drawn to the National Enquirer headlines about Jon Benet Ramsey and Doris Day at the grocery checkout aisle. So, when I realized my grandparents’ anniversary fell on a Saturday in April 2025, I started planning the wedding of my adult dreams: our closest friends and family split up into two Rolls Royce limos for a luxury, leisurely drive to City Hall. And the first person I called was my photographer: editor-in-chief, Aleks Karjaka.

Picture this (as I said to Aleks): a small caravan of limos strolling through the city with well-dressed “wedding guests” inside.

Who? VIPs to me, the bride. First on the list would be the groom, Paul Kerekes. Next, my parents, Paul’s parents, my siblings, his brother and sister-in law. Paul’s niece and nephew – a built in flower girl and ring bearer. The aunt and uncle of Paul’s who were the closest to me and the aunt and uncle of mine closest to Paul. In addition, the two closest members of our urban tribe. That, plus Aleks, made a cozy selection of special guests spread across two limos.

Where? Photo destinations where fashion photographer Karjaka would follow us around taking pictures. Our New York City rooftop would serve as the first photo op. Next, the nearby New York Conservatory Garden that feels like Central Park’s own secret garden. Other destinations like Grand Central station, because that’s where I’d drag my “mobile library” of books to and from New Haven to visit Paul at Yale. We wouldn’t be the first to stage a small fashion flash mob in Grand Central. The final stop would be the courthouse for a small ceremony followed by a decadent celebratory meal.

Why? I was an older bride with a very small family. This reinvented wedding felt like the perfect solution.

How? Somehow convince our parents that this little ritual could pass for a proper wedding. I thought it did. Especially since Aleks would be there to create a proper wedding album.

“Paparazzi!” Aleks described it. He got the whole concept in one word.

Aleks was in. I got a real photographer to shoot my “wedding”. I almost couldn’t blame him since if Alek’s photography were a wedding, it just might be my deconstructed wedding on wheels. Little did he know that just over a month before 4/12/25 I’d call him to let him know it was an accidental bait and switch.

What happened? Well, we told my grand plan to our families. They didn’t get it. That’s always a risk with my grand ideas. They thought of it as more of a “glorified courthouse wedding”. They weren’t wrong, I suppose. Also, they were particularly concerned about the disappointment of the extended family that had been waiting 15 years for us to get married. Maybe selecting two limos worth of our family and friends was risky.

So instead, the wedding was now for a little over 100 people and would be held at the groom’s family Country Club. Although I could’ve given Aleks more notice, I couldn’t bear to. The same way I couldn’t bear to send out invites, pick out the menu, hire a DJ and florists and order a wedding cake. I had already designed a pared down dress with talented designer Bessie Besana (@bessiebesana) who quickly whipped up a dramatic overskirt to camouflage my courthouse chic wedding dress.

I cried. For once, I thought this day and this event was mine. Isn’t that what all bridezillas say? THIS IS MY SPECIAL DAY. I prepared to fight for my cause until my fiancé chimed in that he too would miss seeing his family all together. Now I was in a bind because, of course, I had to consider his opinion. If I were to share “my” day with anyone, surely it would be my future husband. It’s his day too. So as always, I accepted that my creative ideas might not be best for everyone. Maybe we needed to invite his family.

Family was never a big part of my life. Mine is small, fractured, and my favorite aunt didn’t even come to the wedding because of political reasons. But I figured Paul’s family would at least come and dance themselves silly. There was something to say for that, no matter how embarrassingly small I feared my side of the aisle would be.

Now that the plans had changed, my momentum was dead in the water. We were engaged in October with intentions to marry April 12, 2025. Since the event felt like it was no longer mine, it took me until January of 2025 to find the exact printer who could do the invites as I had envisioned them: copper foil stamped kraft paper. They were sent mid-February and not before plenty of questions about whether the wedding would even be taking place.

The venue manager at the Old Field Club was asking the same thing. My parents and the groom’s were asking too. In a panic, I hired a wedding planner (@labellefete.nyc) and she had two months to make it happen.

I was kicking myself for not sticking to my vision and allowing them to hijack “my day”. Sure, the wedding had touches of me at every turn like all events I plan. It was a smashing success. But it wasn’t mine. As it turns out, it was ours.

Something happened when I looked back at the photos. When I saw how much fun everyone had, it was all worth doing it for them. Imagine a world in which these photos and memories didn’t exist! Imagine a world where Paul’s father’s and mother’s side couldn’t celebrate a wedding and dance together one last time. And who knew I had a few dancing fools of my own on my side of the family.

And that’s when it dawned on me: a wedding is for your family. It’s for showing them your love and personality and giving them a place to visit and to eat, drink, and be merry wild animals together. Moreover, the parts of my family that did show up are the parts that I will now carry forward with me. I also gained one hell of a family and the reception was quite the induction. When I looked at these photos, they made me a believer in weddings and I would now go through all of it again for them.

Looking at the photos had such an impact on me that my thank you note to Aleks best captures the sentiment:

“We’re not looking at photos of our wedding – we’re looking through your lens at what feels more like a photographic study in the many small beautiful moments that a truly beautiful wedding make. But I’m realizing just how important what you did was because I’m gagging at all that went on while I was suffocating from corset-itis in the bridal suite. They all had so much fun and made so many memories as a family and you captured those memories for years to come. To know that you documented it for me to see leaves me that much more certain that the whole process was worth it from start to finish. After all, it did start with you. You were the only constant in the evolution of this wedding.”

The whole thing was ironic. It even rained. So, it’s only fitting that there was a story written about planning the event I didn’t want to plan. Because while the wedding was for them, this story will always be mine to tell. And it was picture perfect.

The post Accidental Bait and Switch: A Picture Perfect Wedding appeared first on Karjaka Magazine.

We live in an era where the world is curated, filtered, and increasingly generated by artificial intelligence. From the perfect Instagram photo to AI-generated influencers with flawless faces and “ideal” proportions, it’s becoming harder to distinguish what’s real — and even harder to love what is.

But here’s the truth: You are real. And that alone is revolutionary.

In a digital culture that pushes perfection, being unapologetically, authentically yourself — body, mind, and soul — is a radical act. Your stretch marks, your quirks, your emotions, your laugh that’s just a little too loud — those aren’t flaws. They’re fingerprints of your humanity. And no AI, no algorithm, can replicate that.

The AI Illusion: Perfection Without Personality

Artificial intelligence can now create everything from artwork to poetry to eerily lifelike photos of people who don’t exist. And while the tech is impressive, it’s also dangerous when it becomes the lens through which we view beauty and worth. The issue isn’t AI itself — it’s the illusion of perfection it projects.

Social media feeds are now filled with AI-enhanced selfies, virtual models, and “glow-ups” that erase pores, wrinkles, and any hint of aging or imperfection. And when we scroll through this digital perfection daily, it starts to chip away at how we see ourselves in the mirror.

But here’s a reminder: perfection is boring. It’s predictable. It lacks soul.

You weren’t made to look like a filter. You weren’t made to be symmetrical or sculpted by an algorithm. You were made to be you — vibrant, evolving, messy, magical.

Reclaiming Your Body: A Home, Not a Hashtag

Your body isn’t a brand. It’s not a trend. It’s not a “before and after” photo waiting to happen.

Your body is a home — the only one you’ll ever truly live in. And it deserves to be loved not because it looks like someone else’s ideal, but because it carries you through life, every single day. That doesn’t mean you always have to feel amazing about how you look. Body love isn’t a constant state — it’s a practice. Some days it’s bold and fierce. Other days it’s quiet and patient. But every day, it’s about choosing kindness over criticism.

We’ve been taught to believe that we have to earn self-love. That we need to change, shrink, tone, or tweak before we’re worthy of love or pride.

But the truth? You don’t need to change to be lovable. You need to unlearn the lie that you ever weren’t.

Authenticity in the Age of Algorithms

In a world where even personality is becoming programmable, authenticity is your superpower.

When AI can mimic human expression, creativity, and even emotion, what makes you you is more valuable than ever. Your lived experiences, your unique perspective, your voice, your flaws — they’re irreplaceable.

AI can simulate connection, but it can’t feel. It can imitate empathy, but it can’t truly understand. It can generate content, but it can’t create meaning like a human soul can.

Your presence — raw, real, unedited — is a breath of fresh air in a digital landscape obsessed with the artificial.
So how do you stay grounded in your realness when everything around you is designed to distract or distort?

6 Ways to Stay Authentically You in an AI-Generated World

1.  Unfollow Perfection: Curate your social feed like you curate your space. Follow creators and voices who inspire you with truth, not just polished aesthetics.

2.  Celebrate Your Body’s Story: Every scar, stretch mark, and freckle tells a story. Start seeing your body not as a project, but as a journal of your life.

3.  Make Time for the Tangible: In a world of screens and simulations, prioritize real-world experiences — walks, art, music, laughter, connection.

4.  Use Tech, Don’t Let It Use You: AI can be a tool, but it should never be your measuring stick. Create with it. Learn from it. But don’t let it define your value.

5.  Speak Your Truth, Even If It’s Messy: Perfection is silent. Authenticity speaks — sometimes awkwardly, sometimes loudly, but always truthfully.

6.  Practice Radical Self-Kindness: In moments when you feel less-than, meet yourself with compassion, not judgment. You’re not broken. You’re becoming.

You Are Not a Copy. You Are an Original.

Think about it: the world already has perfect avatars, filtered faces, curated feeds. What it doesn’t have is another you. Your essence. Your energy. Your unique way of seeing the world.

That’s what makes you beautiful.

When you walk into a room with your shoulders back and your spirit intact — not because you look “perfect,” but because you feel whole — people notice. That’s the kind of confidence that no AI can fake. It’s the kind of love that grows from within.

Final Thoughts: You Are the Revolution

Being authentically yourself — body, mind, and soul — in a world that profits off your insecurity? That’s revolutionary. Loving yourself in a culture that constantly tells you to edit, alter, and apologize? That’s powerful.

So take up space. Be loud. Be soft. Be proud of your curves, your skin, your smile lines, your story. You’re not falling short. You’re coming home to yourself.

In a world that’s trying to make everyone the same, your realness is your rebellion.

And it’s beautiful.

The post Loving Your Real Self in an AI-Generated World appeared first on Karjaka Magazine.

Once upon a time, many moons ago, I met her. I met Her.

We were attending an erotic poetry reading event. She was a black cat type of woman, her style quiet chic—only truly curious eyes would notice the custom-made dress, the shoes, that enormous red scarf dragging on the floor like a queen’s mantle. One peculiar detail that caught my attention was the red lollipop she was licking throughout the entire time.

I knew by the way she moved—or rather danced through the crowd—by the way she’d look with her half-opened eyes at those who dared talk to her, that she wouldn’t stand a casual approach. She would listen with patience, yet there was an absence in her seemingly enthusiastic replies.

She was flowing towards the exit when I picked up the end of her red mantle. She turned her swan-like neck and looked me up and down with her watery blue eyes. The silent question hung in the air. I waited three seconds and fired: “The queen needs an entourage.”

Her eyebrows formed a half-pity, half-surprised arch, and then we both burst into laughter. Time froze, and then the dam broke and swallowed everything in its way.

We became lovers that very night.

She loved extravagance: I wasn’t allowed to touch her or kiss her until I’d done something ridiculous—recite a poem and drink wine from her shoe in front of crowds.

She loved good meals and wine but never expressed anything beyond polite approval. And after any dessert, she would always fish out her red lollipop.

She was tireless with life’s pleasures—show after show, new restaurant, new book, new film. She would move from one thing to another without pause, always up for something more, more, more. She’d never stop, never slow down, as if some wicked force was driving her forth.

We made love for hours, like two professionals, until we couldn’t move anymore. 

But with all her love to immerse herself fully, she would never stay with me. She would leave, or tell me to leave after we were done. Every time. My mornings were always lonely, empty. As if there was something to hide in the morning, or she refused to be in something more than this fanciful insanity.

One day I came over to pick her up and found her in distress.

“I think I’m out of lollipops! We’ll stop by the kiosk on our way.”

“What is this with you and your lollipops?” I asked. Strangely, for the first time, as if I knew somewhere deep that it was more than just candy.

She looked at me with the eye of an experienced detective. After a pause, I, proved worthy, was granted a story.

“It was my mother and I, and an expired train pass she kept forging to save money. I was happy with my dress made from our only curtain, like Scarlett O’Hara. She didn’t let me eat sweets because the dentist was expensive—only once a week, I was granted a treat.

We would make colorful lollipops from my grand-grand-grandmother’s recipe. Cinnamon, coriander, ginger root, Turkish blend, sugar—she whispered the rest of the ingredients as if it was a big secret. It was the tastiest thing!

One day my mom sent me to the market to sell the lollipops because she felt ill. With my basket of lollipops, I went off. Halfway to the market, the Earth shook. When I returned, I found our house in ruins, with everyone who was in it. 

I wandered the streets for three days, sucking on my lollipops. They were the only thing I had left.

I was sitting by the ruins of my house, when a silver car approached me. There was a woman, very well dressed woman, who asked me what happened and who I was. After I told her all about it, she thought for a moment and said, that God sent her a sign she was waiting for, and she wants to take care of me. I became her only child, never in need of anything again. I could finally buy lollipops, as many as I wanted…”

She paused, looking somewhere far, trying to find words to convince herself of something.

Often, I’d see her eyes locking as if she’d gone to another world. Her features would soften, deep sadness would cross her marble face. Then she’d return, except for that part given only a brief moment to emerge.

She traveled the world, had many talents, but nothing deeply interested her. I feared the day she’d decide to move somewhere else—alone.

“My darling,” she said one day, swallowing her R’s in a British way, “I must go soon. I’m bored of this city.”

My heart sank.

“I do love you, but I must go alone. We had a magical journey.”

Again, I sensed something: she sounded confident yet desperate.

I hadn’t slept all night. There was something off about her narrative—this chic hunger for life, elegance, and childish lollipops.

Early morning I rushed to the Turkish market. She came at noon as agreed. I walked to the kitchen where ingredients lay on the counter.

She burst into loud laughter. “Did you go broke, and now we have to cook?”

“Show me your lollipop recipe.”

She looked angry, scared, as if I were pointing a gun at her.

“That’s how I’ll remember you.”, I said.

“This is ridiculous,” said she, and began pacing the room.

I waited. 

She pulled up her hair, removed her jewelry, and then her clothes… Standing in underwear, she demanded: “Give me your least expensive shirt. It’s gonna get dirty.”

She started giving orders, playful and engaged, telling stories about each ingredient’s spirit. The more we cooked, the less recognizable she became.

I was participating in some sacred ritual that men weren’t allowed to witness in the past.

The last touch—the coloring finished bright red, like blood in sunlight.

She took a lollipop, closed her eyes and put it in her mouth. Suddenly, a tear ran down her cheek. She whispered, “I missed it. Oh, I missed it.”

The dam broke again. She squeezed me like a wolf mother who’d lost her cub and found it again. She cried like a baby, with all the swallowed for so many years tears. 

I woke to yellow sunlight crawling across my bed. Feeling usual morning sorrow, I was about to rise when a tiny warm arm grabbed my waist and her voice said: “mmm nooo.”

I turned and, a baby deer’s face, messy hair, and red like a rose lips.

“I think you missed your train,” I said in disbelief.

“Thank God,” said she.

________________

Note from the author: This modern fairytale was inspired by the old fairytale “Red Shoes”.  

Inspired by many stories and books on reconnecting to one’s creative self, I founded Cretivity club: DClub, the space where people reconnect with their authentic creative selves through diverse events and experiences, because sometimes we all need to remember the taste of our own homemade lollipops. 

The post Story Time: Red Lollipop appeared first on Karjaka Magazine.

“April showers bring May Flowers”. That is what we are reminded of when we think of the month of April. However, more importantly (yet less discussed), April is the awareness month for Autism and Limb Differences. Some people are born with limb differences while others live with the loss of a limb later in life. The awareness and knowledge that has been brought to light surrounding people that aren’t typical has changed the society in which we live and will only continue to improve the lives that we’re shaping for our children and others.

Having a child is one of the most beautiful, joyous, yet terrifying experiences in anyone’s life and to find out that your child will have a limb difference only adds to the overwhelming feeling of uncertainty. Your mind floods with concern, grief and anger and you worry about the impact that it will have on your unborn child. The biggest question that plays on repeat in your head is, “How will the world treat my baby?” You worry about the looks and the reactions that people will give you, the questions people will ask and the responses that you will have to give.

I will never forget the first moment my son was laid on my chest. He was absolutely perfect. The most beautiful representation of strength I had ever seen. A baby who was fortunately brought into the world at a time when inclusivity was at the forefront of everyday life; sharing knowledge and information is helping to break stigmas surrounding people who aren’t typical. There would always be challenges, but I knew in that moment, I would do everything possible to make anything possible for him.

I got the confirmation that my son had Amniotic Band Syndrome, which is a rare condition caused by strands of the amniotic sac that separate and entangle digits, limbs, or other parts of the fetus, causing them to not fully develop. After receiving that news the first question out of my doctor’s mouth was, “Have you done recreational drugs since you’ve been pregnant?”. As I choked back tears I quietly said “no”. All the while in my head I was screaming “If you only knew how hard it was for me to get pregnant and how much I’ve wanted to me a mom, you wouldn’t be asking this!”

I tried to move past the initial feeling of shame, however I only went into a darker head space asking; “What did I do to make my son deserve this? How could I have prevented this? How can I fix it? What is wrong with me?”

The simple answer to every question was “nothing”. But, I couldn’t accept that. I needed answers; answers that I never got until my son started growing and showing me how truly ignorant I was. I was so consumed by my thoughts and wondering what other people would say or think I never stopped to think about who he was as a person. I didn’t give myself time to get to know him before I pitied him and that is my greatest regret; a regret I will live with forever.

I now know that he is curious and so funny. He is smart and happy. He is unafraid and unhindered. He is full of wonder and creativity and he will always eat avocado over banana and he will choose Taylor Swift over anything else. He is the perfect combination of love and grit and I couldn’t be prouder to call him mine.

I will never stop advocating for my son and for anyone who may not be typical. Anyone can be an ally by educating themselves and their families on ways to be curious and engage in conversations that normalize differences. In the United States 1 out of 1,900 babies are born with a limb difference each year, and 1 in 190 are living with the loss of a limb due to amputation. There are resources that are widely available to educate and inspire and authors who celebrate all kids by writing inclusive books. Please utilize and engage with these resources and consider purchasing books to share with your family, friends or your local school to keep the conversation going and continue bringing awareness!

The post Limb Difference, Love & Grit appeared first on Karjaka Magazine.

Hi! I’m Fallon Fitzpatrick, master celebrity hairstylist and CEO & Founder of The New You School, a 12 week inner and outer transformational coaching and makeover program. I am committed to empowering women and helping them achieve a new look, a new mind, and a new life. 

I’d love to share my professional hairstylist tips with you on how to keep your hair healthy while you’re stuck at home, plus an easy guide to care for curly hair!

If you’re struggling to keep your hair healthy between salon trips, try one of these hair masks to keep your hair luscious and healthy. 

For Oily Hair:

Having naturally oily hair is something that so many people struggle with. I totally get how frustrating it can be. 

First, I recommend trying to wash your hair less. I know, it sounds like the total opposite of what you want to do! But reducing the amount of times you wash your hair per week will help bring balance to your scalp and will likely reduce oil production over time.

For the mask, mix one egg white and lemon juice (about half a lemons worth). Egg white are awesome for combating excess oil production, and lemon juice will also help remove build up.

Leave the mask on for at least an hour if you can. Rinse with warm water and wash as normal! 

For Dry/Damaged Hair:

Trying to manage dry, damaged, or frizzy hair can be super annoying. This mask will help bring moisture into your hair to make it a little more manageable!

Mix one whole egg, a teaspoon of honey, a teaspoon of olive or coconut oil, and a teaspoon of apple cider vinegar. The egg, honey, and oil will help bring in moisture, while the apple cider vinegar helps smooth the hair shafts!

Leave this mask on for at least an hour if you can. Rinse with warm water and wash as normal!

For Stimulating Hair Growth:

If you’re looking to promote hair growth while bringing in moisture and shine, try this hair mask!

Mix equal parts coconut oil and cinnamon! Coconut oil is great for moisturizing your hair and keeping your scalp healthy for hair growth. Cinnamon is anti-microbial and will also stimulate your scalp for hair growth (plus it smells great!)

Leave this mask on for at least an hour if you can. Rinse with warm water and wash as normal! All of these masks can be adjusted to suit your hair length! 

I love using hair masks to keep my hair nourished and healthy!

Here’s how I like to maintain my curls.

Redken’s Curvaceous Curl Refiner and Curvaceous Ringlet are my absolute fave products to keep my curls looking bouncy and shiny!

Use Redken Curvaceous Curl Refiner first, then Redken Curvaceous Ringlet. Squeeze the product in your hair while it’s very wet, and let it air dry.

Once it’s 80-90% dry flip your head upside down, massage the roots without pulling your hands through your curls! Then scrunch the ends. Total effort = 30 seconds

Here’s a quick curly updo: Super fast and easy to make it look fancy. Just pin it up when it’s 100% dry. You can backcomb a section if you’re worried about it falling out. This works for straight hair too!

Take a round 1 inch by 1 inch section wherever you want you bun to be. Place the comb at the ends of the hair and push all the way towards the scalp. Really pack it in. Don’t be afraid.  

You shouldn’t be able to stick your fingers or even a comb between your scalp and the back combing. Now you have an anchor for your bobby pins so there is no need to open or bend them and it will last all day!

I hope these tips help you stay chic while you’re staying at home.

Stay safe and good luck!

The post Hair Stimulus appeared first on Karjaka Magazine.

As a Master celebrity hairstylist, and Founder of The New You School, a 12 week inner and outer transformational coaching and makeover program empowering women by helping them develop a new mind, a new look, and a new life, I’d like to share two techniques with you right now on how to keep yourself looking sharp while you’re stuck inside!

How to trim your bangs like a pro:

Take a small one inch by inch in triangle section from the front middle section of your hair. Pull the section straight down and gather at your nose.

Use your scissors to cut in an upwards motion. Close the scissors as you come back down instead of cutting up so you don’t cut your fingers! Cut a little at a time so you don’t cut beyond your desired length.

As you move to the sides of your bangs, grab a small one inch section of hair from each side and bring it to the middle. Remember, since you’re pulling these pieces to the middle, the sides are getting longer! Trim again using an upward motion until you reach your desired length. Continue adding sections and trimming from each side, but be careful not to take sections past the edge of your eyebrows. The final section should look like a long rectangle, about a one inch lining across your forehead shown in the photo. The key is to take your time & do a little at a time!

How to succeed at clipper cuts & beard trims:

When trimming your own hair or beard, start with the longest attachment first and slowly work your way down until it’s the perfect length. As a rule, hair that is thinner looks shorter! For example, if the hair on your cheeks is thinner than the goatee, you might want to use a longer clipper attachment for the thinner sections and a slightly shorter attachment for the thicker parts so the hair appears like it is the same length!

It’s so frustrating when you really want to upgrade your look but can’t make it to the salon. I’m sure many of you are feeling that now more than ever.  To help you navigate this hairscape I am offering online hair appointments for old clients and new to help them get through the quarantine blues! Guiding my clients through Zoom, in case they want to trim their bangs or color their hair, I walk them through a variety of touch up needs such as brow shaping, root touch ups, bead trims, clipper cuts, or even trimming split ends, while making sure that they have all the right tools to succeed. Find me at fallonafitzpatrick@gmail.com & Fallonfitzpatrick.com for more information!

Stay safe and good luck!

The post Cutting it Close with Fallon Fitzpatrick. appeared first on Karjaka Magazine.