Cultivating Seeds in the Storm
The rain is unrelenting.
I arrived in Hanoi with a typhoon in tow. I spent my first few days in relative luxury at the Hotel de l'Opera by Hoan Kiem Lake. The hotel is a faded idea of five-star, but I love it. The staff is attentive, and the food excellent. The bed is giant, and the shower is hot. It was a nice recharge after two days of semi-uncomfortable travel, trying to outrun a typhoon named Yagi, which translates to goat in Japanese and Devil Aries in Chinese.
The devilish goat arrived in Hanoi the same day I did, but that didn’t stop me from squeezing in meetings with two important tea associates here in Vietnam. And a massage and a facial. One of the associates dropped off a plethora of samples so I could start cupping them on Saturday when the storm was at its worst, with the government recommending everyone stay indoors. Which is exactly what I did. I cupped several of the Vietnamese teas but realized my setup in the hotel wasn’t ideal. I need to get some other tools to make this a bit more standardized.
My attempt to TimeShift didn’t work (because my flight schedules changed due to the storm), so I’m still battling a bit of jet lag, but it’s ok. It’s practice. All challenges are opportunities to practice. But the tiredness and energy come in waves.. not usually at the right times. For example, I started cupping tea very early on Saturday, and by the afternoon, binge-watching Netflix seemed like an excellent idea.
Sunday, after the majority of the storm had passed, I took an early morning walk around the lake to assess the damage. So many trees were uprooted. That wind was quite devilish. But the cleanup teams were furiously working to get the streets cleared and life back to normal. I can’t imagine this in Miami, a cleanup so organized and effective.
I made moves to check into my apartment in Ba Dinh. The apartment is ideal for my purposes. It’s modern in decor, but the building is down one of the quintessential Hanoian alleys, above markets and coffee shops; I expect lots of street noise when the storm clears. I will love it.
The sound of the rain and the soft notes of my host Hung’s saxophone float through the air. The air conditioner isn’t working, so there’s a bit of stickiness, where the notes of both the rain and the sax just hang.
As long as I can maintain focus, I’ll be able to fulfill my missions here in Vietnam. For me, I always want to do, do, do on the journey. But I must remember to be, be, be. Do be do be do. I think that’s what the saxophone is trying to remind me.
Tonight, I took myself out for a nice meal of catfish, sweet potato, mango salad, and trà đá (classic Hanoian iced tea). It’s pretty incredible how these past few days of “normal living” - having a coffee on the street, shopping for new pants and a shirt, taking time for self-care, binge watching Netflix, sitting down for a nice meal - feel so foreign to me. In Miami, I work. I have responsibilities. But it’s quite clear I’ve been shirking the responsibilities to myself.
Before I left, a good magical friend stopped by the studio on the new moon, and we were discussing the seeds we were planting. It’s not just about planting the seeds, my friends. It’s about tending to them, nurturing them, making sure they have what they need to actually grow. You can’t just plant something and walk away. You need to care for it—give it time, attention, and space to grow into what it’s meant to be. Just like with tea. A garden doesn’t thrive on its own. It needs the right balance of care, patience, and, honestly, some love.
I’ve planted a lot of seeds, projects, ideas, relationships - but what I’ve realized is that I’ve been so focused on the planting, I’ve forgotten about the cultivation. I’ve been rushing from one thing to the next, caught up in doing, doing, doing, and not enough being. It’s a delicate balance, just like tending a tea garden, where growth doesn’t happen overnight. You have to trust the process, knowing that storms and difficult times are part of what makes everything stronger.
This trip feels like a shift for me -a time to stop, to tend, and to cultivate all those seeds I’ve planted. The work I’ve done, the connections I’ve made, and the growth I’ve been searching for in myself. It’s all ready to be nurtured now. And even though I’ve arrived in the middle of a storm, I think that’s part of the lesson too. Growth doesn’t always happen in perfect conditions. It happens during the rain, during the discomfort, and in the moments you least expect.
Just like the tea plants that grow in unpredictable environments and still manage to produce something beautiful and unique. I have to remind myself that I need to tend to my own garden too. To give myself the space and time to grow into something new. This journey isn’t just about finding the perfect tea, writing the best book, or making business deals—I think it’s about taking care of the seeds inside me, so they can grow. And when that happens, all the other things fall into place.
As I lay here writing in bed at the very early hour of 8pm, I can hear the kids yelling in the street and the old men on the corner bantering over beer. Living their lives, cultivating their seeds. I smile and can’t wait for what tomorrow will bring.
