My Story

Hi, I'm just your average Homo sapiens, raised in nature. I haven't seen a doctor or taken medicine for nearly 25 years—except for a car accident. Here in Silicon Valley, I often feel like a stranger among the modern, domesticated Homo sapiens.

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I grew up in the picturesque town of Nabari, Japan, surrounded by the beauty of the four seasons, each bringing a unique feeling. These changing seasons enriched my childhood with the diversity, vibrancy, and flavor that nature brings. I spent my days playing outside until I was covered in mud, always greeted by my mother's familiar words: 'Take a shower right now!' This daily routine became a cherished part of my life.

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As a young child, I observed the complex relationships between all living things and their surroundings. Everything affected each other in ways that were both evident and beyond comprehension. This coexistence involved fierce competition and beautiful harmony, revealing a profound balance in the design of life. Up close, it could seem cruel, but it also pointed to a deeper order in nature. I truly enjoyed living in harmony with nature.

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I began to sense something I hadn't noticed before: a gap between what I learned from nature and what was expected in modern society. I questioned why modern people had so many routines, such as brushing their teeth after every meal, disinfecting and bandaging small cuts, sleeping in beds, or turning on lights when it got dark. No other living creatures engage in such practices.

These questions turned into a conflict with the complex rules and norms of modern life. At the same time, I was becoming an expert in a natural lifestyle. I was taught that material success and social conformity were essential, yet a part of me was too clumsy to fully commit to this path.

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During this time, I realized I had two sides. One side believed in a natural way of life; the other yearned for social success but struggled to follow that path. This inner split made me feel inadequate and worried about the outcomes in my future. Despite understanding that this was not an ideal way of living, I remained curious about how this internal conflict would unfold. Over time, I learned to accept this duality. My unwavering faith kept me calm even when I struggled to fit into society. It felt like a wild Homo sapiens sneaking into modern society for a trial period. Somehow, this experience allowed me to navigate life on my own terms. This marks the beginning of my true journey—one filled with...

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I now see a path where I can remain true to myself while pursuing success. I realize that success, in a way, mirrors the American Dream—it’s about the power of vision and how well it resonates with others. My connection to nature has allowed me to remain true to myself even amid this internal struggle.

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Over time, I have come to accept that nature is a vessel for the infinite and that modern social structures are merely one form of it. I’ve come to realize that I care little about being labeled. Anyone who deviates from assertive social norms is often misunderstood in a society that is, in a way, insular from the perspective of nature. Interestingly, our ancestors struggled to free themselves from boxes, such as hierarchical societies, slavery, and tyranny, yet now we are moving toward a domesticated existence of our own accord. Understanding this has made my choice clear. I know what truly nourishes the body, mind, and soul—timeless truths that transcend modern conventions.

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Now, I feel a sense of purpose. To put it bluntly, I aim to move forward with this intuition that I can feel, to live as if an ambassador for nature, and to share the simple truths of nature—especially those related to food—with the modern world. I appreciate your support as I embark on this journey.

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From an outsider's perspective:

Over the past few decades, I’ve worked in more than 30 restaurants across California, from upscale establishments to neighborhood spots. My passion has always been simple: to serve good food, focusing on flavor and the joy of dining. But as I gained more experience and watched the industry evolve, I began questioning the broader impact of the food I was serving.

As I recognized the influence of the food sector, I felt compelled to explore the health side of food more deeply. What I discovered was alarming. From agriculture to production to regulation, our entire food system has been compromised by a stakeholder-driven approach, where powerful entities like BlackRock, Vanguard, and State Street, and influential individuals like Warren Buffett—who has invested heavily in Coca-Cola, promoting its diabetic soda products globally—make decisions that prioritize profit over well-being. To these investment firms, food is just another commodity for generating profits.

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"Chronic diseases, such as heart disease, stroke, cancer, chronic respiratory diseases, and diabetes, are leading causes of death globally. According to the World Health Organization (WHO), around 74% of deaths worldwide are due to chronic diseases. This amounts to approximately 41 million people dying from chronic non-communicable diseases (NCDs) each year."

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In every kitchen I worked in, whether high-end or low-end, the same ingredients were ever-present: vegetable seed oils, refined sugars, ultra-processed grains, and a host of additive products.

As I continued my journey, I became increasingly aware of the food industry's motives. Instead of developing systems that align with the natural nutrition cycle—growing healthier products, harvesting without damage, delivering fresh, and cooking food that nourishes Homo sapiens—industries push for faster and larger yields. This practice depletes the soil, the original source of nutrients. To compensate, they add unmetabolized chemical compounds to the soil, which in turn makes people sicker. What are we really striving for?

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Extended shelf life might seem like a convenience, but it is akin to plastic. It doesn’t spoil or decompose, and similarly, our bodies cannot break down and extract nutrients from these artificially stable compounds. Is that what we call food?

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Our evolutionary journey has unfolded over millennia, adapting us to natural foods. However, the rapid influx of artificial chemicals into our diets outpaces our biological capacity to adjust. These substances are alien to our evolutionary biology and cannot be metabolized effectively by our bodies.

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Take, for example, Northern Europeans, who took thousands of years to develop lactose tolerance.

 

For me, food should nourish, not harm. The same principle applies to the role of a chef. Yet, while we strive to create nutritious meals, billions of pounds of chemicals are sprayed onto farmland each year, eroding the soil—the very bedrock of healthy food.

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Many people work hard to support their families, following the paths they know, often unaware of the damage their industries inflict on the health of others—including their own loved ones.

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I reached a point where I could no longer serve food I wouldn’t eat myself. It became clear that, to live with integrity, I needed to step away from the mainstream and forge my own path.

While I’m still figuring out some aspects of life, I am confident I’m heading in the right direction.

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This decision isn’t about criticizing others or trying to outperform competitors; it’s about seeking better for myself and Homies. I see this as much a spiritual journey as a professional one. I’ve found a path I can commit to for the rest of my life. My business model is based on the belief that when people see how I thrive and become healthier by eating what I serve, they might question their food choices. Only then can I proudly accept success. For me, success must be achieved in a way that makes me proud—because that’s what brings true happiness. I see no other reason to live.​