When does guidance become dependence? A reflection on astrology, Qi Men Dun Jia, our desire to optimise every decision, and whether constantly searching for the “right” choice slowly erodes our ability to trust ourselves.
What happens when the inspirational person everyone else sees is very different from the person you once knew? A reflection on public personas, private experiences, and why we shouldn’t mistake visibility for character or an inspiring story for the whole truth.
The deeper I study BaZi, the more I realise it’s not about finding a Husband Star, Wealth Star or Nobleman Star.
Just like Western astrology, no single placement or star tells the whole story. Context is everything.
In my latest blog post, I share why I believe we should stop reading charts one symbol at a time, and what these systems have really taught me about life.
In 2020, I underwent surgery to remove 20% of my right lung after being diagnosed with carcinoma in situ. Looking back, I found myself exploring my experience through Western medicine, Traditional Chinese Medicine and BaZi; not to search for one explanation, but to understand what each perspective could genuinely teach me about health, healing and the limits of certainty.
Starting Crysto.light forced me to ask myself a simple question: if someone chooses not to buy from me today, how do I hope they feel when they leave? This philosophy has shaped every decision I’ve made since.
Many people have encouraged me to do regular TikTok live selling because it works. They may very well be right. But over time, I realised I wasn’t simply choosing between different platforms. I was choosing between different ways of building a business, and ultimately, the kind of work I still wanted to enjoy doing ten years from now.
For a long time, I believed wisdom was mostly about knowing when to establish boundaries. My wedding reminded me that wisdom also requires us to recognise when new evidence deserves a new conclusion, while remaining faithful to the values and boundaries that protected us in the first place.
Sometimes the hardest part of creating something isn’t the execution. It’s having the courage to hold onto a vision that nobody else can see yet. My wedding reminded me that people can only evaluate what’s in front of them, while you’re making decisions based on a finished picture that still exists only in your mind.
I thought my wedding would teach me something about marriage. Instead, it taught me something about friendship, community, and how easily we inherit other people’s fears without realising it.
Weddings are often framed as the beginning of a life. At 38, mine feels more like a milestone within a life that is already well underway. This is a reflection on wedding planning, mental bandwidth, and the surprising realisation that what I’m most looking forward to is having my time and attention back.
