Asking the Question Again: Why Tea?
I’ve been sitting with a simple but uncomfortable question: Why tea?
When I first started this journey, I didn’t have a rigid business plan or a five-year strategy. I simply followed an intuition that felt both distant and incredibly magnetic. I just felt pulled toward it.
Recently, as I’ve gone deeper into the process, that question came back. Not as a crisis - just a little nudge. Am I chasing something unrealistic? Or is this actually where I’m meant to be?
I don’t always have neat answers. I tend to find my insights in meditation, when I settle enough to let thoughts rise to the surface - thoughts that seem to arrive from somewhere far beyond my own limited understanding.
This week, one thought in particular stayed with me.
For a while, I’ve been worried that my tea isn’t “loud” enough. In a world of high-impact flavors and engineered intensity, wild tea can feel understated. I used to worry that people might mistake its transparency for a lack of character, and I felt a need to defend its subtlety.
But I’ve started to look at it differently.
The reality is, wild tea doesn’t perform for you. It hasn’t been genetically modified to hit a specific “flavor profile” or mimic a floral perfume. It is a direct snapshot of a specific mountain, a specific rainfall, and a specific year. It is honest. To appreciate it, you don’t need to be an expert; you just need to tune your senses to a different frequency. Feeling the energy of that connection requires a willingness to drop the noise and actually listen.
I’m realizing I’m not building this for a specific demographic or an aesthetic trend. I’m looking for someone I’m calling “Human 2.0” in my head.
I don’t mean the sci-fi version of this term - I’m not talking about microchips or bio-hacking. To me, Human 2.0 is an internal evolution. It’s for the people who embrace the speed of the modern world but refuse to let their sensory hardware be dulled by the noise. They are upgrading their ability to perceive nuance. They recognize that in an era of over-stimulation, the most radical thing you can do is maintain a taste for the subtle.
Perhaps my role isn't just "selling tea." Perhaps this tea is a medium for this evolution. It is a tool for honing our discernment - for the land, for the shifts in our own bodies, and for the nuance we usually overlook when we’re moving too fast. It’s about meeting the world halfway
I’m becoming more at peace with the fact that this won’t resonate with everyone. That doesn’t mean the tea is lacking - it means the connection is specific. I’m building a space, currently in my corner of Taipei and eventually (hopefully) in NY, for people who are curious about that specific frequency.
I’m still figuring out what that really means, and I don’t have a deadline for the answer. But this is where my thoughts have been this week.
If any of this resonates, I’d love to hear your take on it.
