Stone Soup is no longer a secret

Today, Stone Soup left my head and became visible.

I drove up the mountain this morning because my head felt too crowded for our living room.

It was getting windy as I approached Qingtiangang. I never get tired of this drive. At one bend the clear green grass opens out over the Taipei mountains, a vastness that makes it hard to believe home is only fifteen minutes away.

Today was the day Stone Soup began to take a shape I could actually see.

I had a call with the designer I’ve been working with since summer. For months, this project has lived in a space of references, voice notes, and abstract ideas. Today, I saw the first visual direction. The designer asked how it felt, and I realized I didn’t have a language for it yet. I nodded, watching the lag in the video where my face arrived after my voice, as if there was a small distance between me and the project.

Up until now, it was a shape without edges. Seeing it for the first time felt strange. It was like finally meeting someone in person after only knowing them through messages. There was the name, Stone Soup, spelled out on paper in a font I hadn’t chosen, but that suddenly felt like it belonged to me.

For the first time, I could actually picture it existing outside of my head. On a shelf. In someone’s hands. Being passed around. Me showing up for it, day after day.

I expected to feel a rush of excitement. Instead, I felt something heavier than excitement. It’s a strange tension, being both energized and unsettled at the same time.

It’s the weight of realizing that this is no longer just a private thought. If I keep going, I’ll eventually have to stand behind it. People will see it. By extension, they’ll see me, and the gap between what I hope for and what I can actually build. I can’t hide behind potential anymore.

Lately, the work has been less about tea and more about structures. Making decisions before I feel ready. Explaining a vision to people who can’t see it yet, sometimes to people who care about me and secretly wonder if I can really pull this off.

I don’t blame them. I wonder too.

My arms are tired from typing and my eyes need a break from the screen. That’s why I drove up here. I don’t need Stone Soup to be a grand thing, but I want to make sure it’s something made with care.

I’m sharing some small fragments at @stonesouptea.