The Nutrition Translator: Colleen Kuhn, RD

The Nutrition Translator: Colleen Kuhn, RD Helping people heal, connect, optimize and self-actualize through plant based nutrition.

We are almost full! Dm me to save your spot! 🫶✨️🐍
05/13/2026

We are almost full! Dm me to save your spot! 🫶✨️🐍

Last night I had a dream that felt more like a message than a dream.In it, I was living on Earth with my partner. We had...
05/12/2026

Last night I had a dream that felt more like a message than a dream.

In it, I was living on Earth with my partner. We had a house together on the ocean. Life felt familiar. Real. Safe enough. But somewhere in the distance, a massive storm was coming.

I was with my sister when we accidentally traveled to a nearby island, not realizing how serious the storm had become. Suddenly, the sky changed. The ocean shifted. Giant waves began rising around us,tsunami-sized waves.

We started running.

One direction: waves crashing toward us.

The other direction: more waves coming from the opposite side.

There was nowhere to go.

And then came the terrifying realization: this was it. We were going to die.

I remember my sister and I bracing for impact, standing there together, waiting to drown.

Then everything changed.

I woke up.

But not in real life,inside the dream.

I was with my partner again, except nothing made sense. There were no waves. No destruction. No storm.

I felt confused.

“Where are we?” I asked.

He said the name of a place I had never heard of.

“What planet are we on?” I asked.

He named a different planet.

“What city?”

Another unfamiliar answer.

And then it hit me:

I had died in one universe and somehow awakened in another.

A parallel reality.

A different planet.

And yet…there we were.

Still together.

Still us.

I collapsed to the floor crying,not from fear, but from something much deeper. Awe. Grief. Love. Recognition.

My partner looked confused.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

And through tears, I tried to explain:

“We found each other again.”

Across worlds. Across timelines. Across death, endings, or whatever separated us,we still somehow found one another.

The feeling was so profound that I woke up carrying it with me.

The dream left me wondering:

What if love isn’t about avoiding storms?

What if life changes us, destroys old versions of us, asks us to become entirely different people,and somehow, what’s real still finds its way back?

Maybe the deepest connections are the ones that survive transformation.

Maybe we meet each other again and again, in different forms, different seasons, different universes.

🧡Colleen

June 13, 2026!Grandmother Ceremony in the Texas Hill CountryJoin us, and I, for a deeply held evening of prayer, conne...
04/23/2026

June 13, 2026!
Grandmother Ceremony in the Texas Hill Country

Join us, and I, for a deeply held evening of prayer, connection, and remembrance.

This gathering will include a flower bath and a Sacred To***co clearing to support grounding and release the following day. As well as an integration call afterwards.

This is an intimate, intentional space for those feeling the call to reconnect, with themselves, the Earth, and Spirit.

DM for details!

Colleen

Boundaries set.Confidence claimed.Softness intact.This is my now.
03/25/2026

Boundaries set.
Confidence claimed.
Softness intact.
This is my now.

Learning something new as an adult is a different kind of humbling.Yesterday I spent part of the day downhill skiing and...
02/23/2026

Learning something new as an adult is a different kind of humbling.
Yesterday I spent part of the day downhill skiing and then backcountry touring for the other part of the day. Physically it was demanding, but mentally it was even more stretching.
Beginner’s mindset as an adult means letting go of competence. It means NOT being naturally good. It means awkward reps, falling, asking basic questions, and feeling exposed in front of people who’ve been doing it for years. It means your nervous system lighting up, fear, frustration, overwhelm, and choosing to stay anyway.
I felt scared. I felt clumsy. I felt like I didnt fit in. I felt like I wanted to quit at times. I also felt proud of myself.
There’s something powerful about holding all of that at once, discomfort and courage, doubt and determination. Growth at this stage of my life isn’t about proving anything as it once was. It’s about being willing to be a beginner again, and again and again.
That feels braver to me.
And it definitely helps to have the support of Zinc and Josh by my side.

I used to create constantly, images, movement, food, music, connection. The past year and a half, I had to pause. Not b...
01/30/2026

I used to create constantly, images, movement, food, music, connection.

The past year and a half, I had to pause. Not because the creativity left, but because life got realllllly heavy and hard.

I’m ready to move again.
To make again.
To be me again.

✨️Colleen

Dream report:A baby was placed by a waterfall as part of a ceremony. They said this was how miracles happen. This is how...
01/29/2026

Dream report:

A baby was placed by a waterfall as part of a ceremony. They said this was how miracles happen. This is how it has always been done. They pointed to old stories, old rules, old faith, as if time itself makes something right. No one said that no one had ever come back to life.

I felt split. Part of me understood that rituals & traditions matter, that they exist for a reason. But if at the cost of safety, it didnt feel right.

Another part of me knew something was wrong. What if she woke up alone? What if someone found her before love did? And even if she never woke, what happens to a body left exposed, for days before the next ceremony?

When everyone else left, I stayed. I took her because safety mattered more than ritual. I brought her home so that if she woke, she wouldn’t wake alone. And if she didn’t, she wouldn’t be taken, touched, or harmed even in death. I kept watch. I waited. I stayed.

She didn’t wake. And that didn’t undo what I knew was right.

I knew there would be a second ceremony.

People would return to see if a miracle had happened. If she was alive, they would celebrate. If she wasn’t, they would bury her. I planned to bring her back so she could be laid to rest properly, buried, protected.

When I told people what I had done and why, I thought they would understand. They didn’t. They were angry because I broke the pattern, the ritual. Because I stepped outside what was written. Because I chose safety over tradition. They didn’t hear that I was trying to keep a small one safe.

The dream left me with a familiar grief. The sadness of doing what feels right, protecting what’s vulnerable, questioning what no longer makes sense, and being misunderstood anyway.

I don’t regret taking the baby...for the sake of her safety.
I regret that doing the right thing so often costs my belonging & being misunderstood.
I will still choose to be misunderstood. For the sake of doing what is right and for the safety of those vulnerable.
❤️✨️

This year brought endings and transitions across nearly every part of my lifeRelationships, family, friendships, work, d...
01/01/2026

This year brought endings and transitions across nearly every part of my life

Relationships, family, friendships, work, direction, and spiritual path.

It held more loss than most years before it, and I’m still living with the effects and integrating what this is asking of me.

What I’m learning instead is to value endings for themselves, not only as space for what comes next, but more importantly, as something complete and meaningful in their own right.

Endings create the container, the arc, the story.

From here, I’m moving forward with a deeper respect for impermanence, and a quieter trust in myself.
❤️

I dreamed my dog was growing leaves outside of herBig, tropical green leaves were growing out of her body, lush & dramat...
12/27/2025

I dreamed my dog was growing leaves outside of her

Big, tropical green leaves were growing out of her body, lush & dramatic. They made her look striking, almost otherworldly. I planted them.

This is how I wanted her to be seen.

She stood there quietly while they grew, patient and trusting, carrying the weight without resistance. From the outside, it worked. The leaves were impressive. They created an image. Anyone looking would think it was beautiful.

She was tolerating them.

It wasn’t until I really paid attention that I noticed the cost. The subtle adjustments in her body. The way she compensated. The way discomfort had become normal because it had been there long enough to feel familiar.

I immediately started cutting the leaves off. At first, it felt like enough. But when I looked closer, I saw the truth. They were rooted deep inside her.

I knew then that if I stopped at the surface, the leaves would return. Because the reason they were there hadn’t been touched.

So I went deeper.

Pulling the roots out was slow and uncomfortable. They had been planted for protection. Presentation. Identity. A way of being in the world that once made sense.

When the root finally came free, her skin was exposed. No leaves. No image. No buffer between her and the world. Just vulnerability.

The loss of the cover. The realization that what looked beautiful had also been armor. And that going without it meant being seen more honestly, without guarantees.

When I woke up, I put my hands on her warm body. Needed to know she was safe without the leaves. Needed to trust that she didn’t need to be adorned to be okay.

What stayed with me was understanding that identities form for reasons. That we don’t remove them by force or bypass them by trimming the edges. That to really change, you have to go to the root, listen to it, understand it, soften it, knowing that depth work is exposing.

And that growth isn’t actually about tearing parts away.
It’s about turning their volume down by listening to them.
This allows to see what once protected, you when it no longer tells you the truth.
And choosing to be real, even when that means being less impressive.

Colleen

This past weekendI facilitated la Medicina alongside my sister CoryIt was the first time I poured Medicine without my te...
12/18/2025

This past weekend
I facilitated la Medicina alongside my sister Cory

It was the first time I poured Medicine without my teacher.
The room felt different.
Quieter.
Something opened

The Medicine was leading the night.
I could feel that clearly.
And still, my teacher was there,
present as something woven into me

The Icaros came
My body knew where to go
The structure held
Years of training showed up without effort

What I’ve been walking through to get here
has not been gentle.
I have been stripped down to my nerves.
It has asked everything of me.

And the past several months there were weeks I honestly believed
the last seven years had led nowhere.
That everything I had worked for, endured, devoted myself to
had somehow vanished.

I realized this weekend
I wasnt losing the lineage, the teachings
I was losing the identity built around earning,
around doing it right,
around carrying expectations that were never fully mine.

Who are you without the earning & the ambition? The Medicine asked of me this weekend

I realized I felt an emptiness & sadness without it

There is pressure in this work.
You feel it in your chest,
in your jaw,
in the way your body never fully rests
Some of it is necessary.
Some of it is inherited and heavy
I became that

What surprised me most Saturday night
was the lack of urgency.
It felt uncomfortable, unfamiliar

No rushing.
No trying to prove anything.

Just presence.
Just listening.
Just staying.

Before their screams
Before their cries
I was somehow there, in front of them, still as a tree, before it happened

Something quieter took the lead.
Steadier.
Less impressive.
More real.
I became something different

I felt like a true hollow bone for the Medicine to come through for the first time

This is not me doing this alone.
And it is not a rejection of lineage or guidance.
I am in a transition,
holding grief and gratitude at the same time,
Being stretched by it
still calling in new teachers, elders, peers,
and the guidance of the plants.

I don’t have a clear map forward.
Only my body,
my listening,
and a commitment to move with care.

Deep gratitude for my past teacher,
for Cory,
and for la Medicina

Pura Pura Medicina
❤️ Colleen

I was inside a giant cave, walking along a narrow rock pathway pressed against the cavern wall. On the right side there ...
12/03/2025

I was inside a giant cave, walking along a narrow rock pathway pressed against the cavern wall. On the right side there was only a thin metal chain and a massive drop-off into jagged rocks. We had enough light to see everything.

Then it began.

One person’s left nostril started bleeding, and immediately they went insane, like something took over their mind. They threw themselves over the chain and I watched their body bounce off the rocks. Then another. Then another. Their broken bodies lay at the bottom of the pit. I saw everything.

I ran out of the cave, terrified, only to see the hotel concierge’s nose begin to bleed too. That’s when I realized: Something was spreading.

In the dream, I didn’t understand. It wasn’t until I woke up, with anxiety tight in my chest, that I understood the meaning.

The “disease” didn’t kill people.
It made them want to kill themselves, and only once they were dead could it “eat” them and move on.

And the only way to stop it wasn’t to fight it…
but to stay with yourself long enough that it couldn’t take over your mind.

It reminded me of IFS, how we have inner parts that overwhelm us when we never turn toward them. Except this dream was like watching the shadow made literal: an externalized demon feeding on unconsciousness.

And the truth is, most of our shadows have already taken over.
Not because we’re weak, but because we’ve been hurt.

Maybe that’s why Ay@huasca speaks to me so deeply.
She asks us to look at the parts that have been steering the ship.
To acknowledge the shadows that protected us at one point, yet also harm us now.
To give them space instead of suppressing them.
To befriend them.
To redirect them.
To orchestrate them.
To choose a path that feels more aligned with who we actually are beneath the noise.

In the dream, the nosebleed was the moment of separation, mind detaching from body, self disconnecting from self. That’s what trauma does.

Maybe the real antidote isn’t defeating the demon.

Maybe it’s refusing to abandon ourselves.

Maybe it’s remembering that even our darkest parts belong to us, and when we turn toward them with awareness & love, they lose the power to push us over the edge.

Colleen

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78701–78705, 78708–78739, 78741–78742, 78744–78769

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