“Adoption or keep trying after 8 years?”

We’ve been trying to conceive for 8 years - IUI, IVF, the whole works - with no luck. We just became licensed to foster and we also signed with a private adoption agency two weeks ago. At the same time, I feel like we’re closer than ever to conceiving. Which path to parenthood is best for us?

— Clock is ticking

Dear Clock is ticking,

Thank you for trusting us with this one. It’s tender… and you handed it to us with so much honesty and heart.

We cast the coins. This is the hexagram that landed:

䷨ · 损 · Decrease.

Sit with us a moment before the word “decrease” makes your stomach drop.

Picture the hexagram as this:

A lake sits at the foot of a mountain. The lake gives its water up to the sky, and the mountain grows green.

That is Decrease.

What looks like loss from down at the waterline is — from the mountain’s side — the reason anything grows at all.

Eight years, you’ve been the lake.

You haven’t been losing.

(…though, many many times, it felt like deep, immeasurable loss.)

Hexagram 41 says:

You’ve been giving.

You’re not being asked to release the dream of parenthood.

You’re invited to surrender the shape you once believed it had to take.

After eight years of hope and waiting, tracking and trying, procedures and grief and maybe this time — the question subtly shifts…

It’s no longer only: How do we become parents?

It becomes: How much of ourselves are we still willing to expense trying to become parents in this one particular way?

This is the question Hexagram 41 surfaces.

Here’s the answer it offers:

Decrease the striving.
Decrease the pressure.
Decrease the quiet belief that biology is the highest proof that a child belongs to you.

This doesn’t mean stop.

You’re holding two roads to parenthood. One is the child your own body might carry. The other is the child already here, waiting.

Decrease won’t tell you which road to take. It doesn’t call one better than the other.

Both are whole. Both are worthy. You’ve already stepped onto both.

What Decrease asks is gentler than a choice between them.

It asks you to stop pouring yourselves out at the threshold.

Hope is holy.

The danger here is not hope.

The danger is hope with no container — hope that keeps asking the body, the marriage, the bank account, the nervous system, and the spirit to keep paying, with no edge to it.

So make the offering smaller, but truer.

If you keep trying to conceive, let it be held — bounded, defined, tender. No longer the whole future. No longer the thing each moment has to rise and fall around.

Your feeling of “closer than ever” — honor it. Hold it the same way: Real, but not the whole future.

Whichever road opens, a child does not arrive to heal eight years.

A child — carried by you or adopted — comes with their own story. Their own losses. Their own belonging.

They are not a consolation. They are not a Plan B. They are not the ending that fixes the beginning.

So whichever road you walk, walk it with reverence — as its own road, with its own love.

That’s the transmutation from Hexagram 41:

When you set down the urgency of we need to become parents, you make room for the child who may actually come.

Reduce the stories surrounding the ask, and something more honest can enter.

Hold a container of compassion.

That could look like…

One more consult.

One clearly named window of time.

Trying gently while the adoption path stays open.

An agreement between the two of you: If the next step will cost your peace, your partnership, or your inner resources to welcome a child fully — the answer is no.

Compassion doesn’t require luck.

But it holds the space required for intention to clarify, and the clarified intention to manifest.

The best path to parenthood is the one that leaves you most able to parent.

You didn’t ask, “What’s the best for us to get a child?”

You asked, “Which path to parenthood is best for us?”

To parent — with steadiness, with tenderness, with enough grief and expectations set down that a child never has to carry it for you.

Decrease says: Keep what is essential, and let the rest grow lighter.

Essential.

Love. Readiness. Home.

A body and a marriage that aren’t built entirely around waiting.

A child welcomed for who they are — not for the story they complete.

So instead of thinking, “Adoption or keep trying?”

Clarify: Which path decreases what depletes you, and increases love?

Then commit, together:

What would we set down — to become the kind of parents a child can arrive fully into?

That’s where the hexagram is pointing.

Not away from parenthood.

Away from exhaustion.

Toward the child.

Love,
Tay & Val 💗

p.s. New to Ask TV? Our first reading went to someone leading a team through the overwhelm of AI at work — Hexagram 28, the beam that bends before it breaks. Read: A faster brain just entered the cave →

p.p.s. This is Ask TV Reading 002. We hold this practice with care — the I Ching has been read at kitchen tables for three thousand years, and we’re learning to read it out loud at the speed of a newsletter. Bear with us as we find the rhythm.

p.p.p.s. If a question is ripening for you — a door you can’t choose, a hope you can’t put down, a wait that’s gone on too long — send it. The next reading is yours to ask. We cast a reading every last Sunday of the month.

Tap here to Ask TV

It’s an annual affair.

All the women would gather in one house. Grandma at the lead.

Depending on which province your grandma came from, different ingredients went into the dumpling. Different shapes too.

Both our Grandmas came from Chao Zhou 潮州. We share the same dialect and the same pyramid-shaped rice dumplings with the same ingredients.

Glutinous rice. Braised soy-sauce pork belly. Bamboo leaves and nylon strings. Shiitake mushroom. Dried shrimp. Chinese sausage. Peanuts. Roasted chestnut.

Two hundred dumplings. Every year.

Preparation Begins The Day Before

Earlier that week, Grandma would have gone to the butcher to buy the best pork belly he had — not too fatty, not too lean.

The pork is washed, scored, blanched, then marinated overnight in dark soy, five-spice, and shallot oil.

The glutinous rice gets soaked. The rice is the star of the show, so Grandma is in-charge. Soaking also makes it easier to digest.

At 5 AM, Grandma is up. The rice is drained and stir-fried with five-spice powder, dark soy sauce (the signature of Teochew bak zhang), shallot oil, and white pepper.

By 8 AM, the aunties start showing up.

The Whole Household Has A Job

One aunty washes the bamboo leaves, one by one. Dries them. Lays them one on top of the other.

Another aunty sets up the wrapping station. Two or three stools. Balls of nylon string tied to the grilled window. Red for the ones with meat filling. Green for the ones with no filling. (These are call alkaline dumplings you eat with white sugar or kaya. We have a whole other post on kaya.)

The eldest man in the house sets up the charcoal stove. A giant pot of water boiling, ready to go.

Then everyone sits down in an assembly line and starts wrapping.

The pyramid is the hardest part. You hold the leaves a certain way in your palm. Guesstimate the rice. Guesstimate the filling. Fold the leaves. Tie it taut with the string.

The aunties can wrap one a minute.

The Children Were Never Really Allowed

One year, Tay insisted.

“But it looks soooooo easy.”

Mum made space.

The dumplings split open in the pot. Rice and filling sank to the bottom. The whole pot nearly burned through.

Val never offered to wrap. Val placed an order.

“More chestnuts. More pork belly. The fattier ones please.”

Grandma would tie a double knot on the ones custom-made for her.

(Val still remembers the double knot. The way Grandma’s fingers moved without looking.)

At 8 PM, The Rice Dumplings Were Ready To Go Home

Each family took home a bundle. The next year, we did it again.

Until Tay’s Grandma passed away in 2021.

And Val’s Grandma can no longer.

The family no longer gathers around the matriarch — the culture keeper — to make bak zhang.

Some aunties still make them. They send a bundle to the rest of the fam.

It’s not the same.

The Smell Of Charcoal Still Lives In Us

The sound of women chattering rapidly in our ancestor’s language.

The men eating peanuts and watching TV in the next room.

The children running through too tiny a space, shouting at the top of their lungs.

The bamboo steam rising.

The smell of pork belly braising at 6 AM.

This is the spirit of Duān Wǔ.

Midsummer, When The Sun Is Blazing

The Chinese call this the Poison Month | 五毒.

The time of year when intense, rising heat brings out the insects, the pests, the illness.

The ancestors learned to meet it with practice. Hanging mugwort and calamus over the door. Drinking realgar wine. Wearing braided five-colored thread around your wrist. Making bak zhang.

Every one of these is a heart practice.

Yang Inside. Yin Outside.

In Traditional Chinese Medicine, bamboo leaves clear heat, eliminate irritability, and drain the body’s excess heat downward. The glutinous rice is warming, tonifying, and sweet. Glutinous rice wrapped in bamboo leaves — yang inside, yin outside. Both, at once.

The heart in TCM is the emperor. It governs the other organs. It also holds 神 — the spirit, the consciousness.

Summer is the heart’s season. The Fire element at peak yang. In intense heat, we exhaust the heart through sweat, through racing, through pushing past our own pace.

The dumpling — savory, slow-cooked, wrapped in a leaf — is the medicine in your hand. A return to the body.

But The Real Medicine Was The Gathering

The yang of togetherness.

The yang of laughter, of three generations under one roof, of children making a mess in the kitchen.

The yang of the matriarch at the lead, the aunties around her, the men keeping the fire going outside.

The yang that combats the poison.

A dumpling steamed alone in a one-bedroom kitchen carries the recipe.

A pot of two hundred, wrapped by a houseful of women, carries the medicine.

That was what the grandmothers were handing down. The gathering itself.

This Is Why We Built INCIRCLE™ Fire Heart Drumming

The Fire Horse asked: What wants to move?

The drum asks: Can you keep pace?

Duān Wǔ asks: Who’s in the boat with you?

We can’t bring back Grandma. We can’t recreate the kitchen at 5 AM.

But we can do what she did. We can gather. We can keep the fire going for each other.

On Saturday, June 20 at 9:00 AM Pacific, we’re hosting INCIRCLE™ — our intentional circle:

A 90-minute live ritual. Held intimately, communally, lovingly.

Together, we’ll bring:

• Duān Wǔ-inspired ritual and reflection

• The meaning of peak-yang timing and why this moment feels so pressurized

• Guided meditation and intuitive insight

• Practices for directing excess heat with clarity and steadiness

• A communal rhythm and cadence to carry your momentum through the rest of the year

You’ll leave feeling:

• Clearer on where your energy is being scattered

• Steadier in your body and spirit

• More resourced to direct your momentum with clarity and intention

• Less alone in what this season is asking of you

• More supported to move through the rest of summer with rhythm

108 seats.
First 18 receive Early Energy Access.

Early Energy Access closes tomorrow (Monday, May 18 · 11:59pm PT).
Prices increase after that.

If your body has been clocking the heat…

If you’ve been holding the season alone…

If you can feel the year speeding up and know you can’t keep going by yourself…

Pull up a stool.

Get your ticket here

Then repost this to fill the circle.

The grandmothers made medicine by gathering.

We’re doing what they taught us.

Love,
Tay & Val 💗

p.s. Tay’s Grandma never wrote down the recipe. The aunties carry it in their hands. This is how culture survives — in the body, in the gathering, in the doing it together.

p.p.s. If you grew up watching a matriarch lead a kitchen, we’d love to hear about it. What was she wrapping? What did she double-knot for you?

Leave a comment

p.p.p.s. Next letter — we want to talk about the I-Ching’s Azure Dragon. 青龙. When to stay hidden, when to rise, when to fly. Subscribe so you don’t miss the next letter👇

Subscribe now

The pace.
The pull.
The year running hotter — and faster — than the calendar says it should.

Sleep getting lighter.
Decisions stacking up.
The Sunday-night feeling arriving on Wednesday afternoon.

You’re not imagining it.

The body has been clocking this heat since spring.

The Year Has Been Accelerating Since The Fire Horse Arrived

We’ve already met this energy once this year.

At the Lunar New Year, when the Fire Horse arrived, we gathered around one question:

What wants to move?

That was the right question for January.

There was ignition then.
Momentum.
Yang Fire.

The sense that something had entered the room and would not wait politely by the door.

And since then, the year has kept accelerating.

Sometimes that acceleration looks obvious.

Sometimes it looks like a faster inbox.
A shorter fuse.
A calendar filling before your body catches up.
A low hum of urgency under everything.

Sometimes it looks like rush and stuckness happening at the same time.

Five months in, a different question is here:

How do I keep going?

Not 1, Nor 2, But 3 Times

On June 19, Duān Wǔ | 端午 arrives — the Chinese midyear festival held on the fifth day (午日) of the fifth lunar month (午月).

For more than two thousand years, this date has held a particular place in the calendar:

The peak Yang energy day — the day in the year when fire reaches its peak.

This year, that energy compounds triple-fold.

Because the year of the Horse — also known as 午年 — is Yang Fire Year.

午年 · 午月 · 午日 (Horse Year, Horse Month, Horse Day) — not once, nor twice, but three times.

That undercurrent of urgency you’ve been sensing?

The rush is real.
The drag is real.
The pressure is real.

Because the year is moving faster than the body can pace.

Earlier this year, we wrote about the difference between being tired and being overheated. Some people aren’t simply fatigued — they’re carrying excess fire in their system.

Duān Wǔ arrives right at that threshold.

The Question Has Changed

The beginning of the year asked:

What wants to move?

Midyear asks something sharper:

Can you direct the heat before it starts directing you?

Because that’s the risk in a year like this.

Beyond burnout...

Misused force.
Scattered effort.
Pushing harder when what’s actually needed is better rhythm.
Mistaking acceleration for progress.
Letting urgency set the pace instead of choosing it.

Duān Wǔ arrives like a drumbeat.

The year is moving.
The heat is rising.
Time is not waiting.

The Drum Carries The Boat

Duān Wǔ is also known as the Dragon Boat Festival. In the dragon boat tradition, the drum isn’t just BGM (background music).

The drum carries the boat.

Twenty-two paddlers.
One drummer.
One boat.

The drum sets the pace.
The paddles answer the drum.
Nobody is faster than the drum.
Nobody is slower.
The drum is the agreement.

The boat does not reach the finish line because the paddlers tried hardest.

It reaches the finish line because the drum stayed steady and the paddlers answered together.

That is what makes dragon boat such a precise midyear teaching.

It carries strength — coordinated, collective strength.

It carries power — power that works through shared rhythm.

The lesson is immediate.

Thrashing wastes force.
Hesitation costs speed.
Trying to overpower the moment throws off the whole boat.

Rhythm is what turns effort into momentum.

What Tay Learned In The Boat

For Tay, this part of Duān Wǔ is embodied wisdom.

She raced dragon boat for two years in junior college (roughly the equivalent of the last two years of high school).

Her body still remembers.

She learned that power is communal.

That pace matters.

That the water doesn’t care how individually impressive you are.

That a different kind of strength appears when people move in rhythm with one another.

She learned that community is not just a nice idea.

It’s how we get to the finish line in dragon boat. It’s how we thrive.

And one more thing.

When the drum is right, the paddle stops feeling quite so heavy.

“During the final race, coach takes the drum. You can feel it. We were no longer paddling. The whole boat is gliding through the waters.” — Tay

You stop bracing.
You start answering.

That is the shift available right now.

From reacting to the heat —
to directing it.

What This Moment Asks For

Midyear is a recommitment.

To the work that’s been moving since January.

To the body that’s been telling you the truth about the pace.

To the rhythm that can actually carry your vision into action.

To the people moving with you.

This is where Duān Wǔ feels so alive to us.

It isn’t just a abstract cultural artifact.
It’s a way of living with the flow of nature.

It’s practical wisdom for a point in the year when so many of us feel the pressure building — but do not yet have language for why.

The Fire Horse asked what wants to move.

Duān Wǔ asks:

How will you direct the heat?

How will you keep pace with what matters?

How will you stop feeding force to the wrong things?

How will you carry your momentum forward without letting the year run its way with you?

In other words:

What helps the drum stay steady inside of you?

What We’re Bringing To The Boat

On Saturday, June 20 at 9:00 AM Pacific, we’re hosting INCIRCLE™ — our intentional circle:

A live, intimate, lovingly held container — for a 90-minute ritual to work with this Duān Wǔ energy.

This is the next chamber of the same room we entered together in Fire Horse Rising.

At the beginning of the year, we worked with ignition.

Now we work with pace.
Cadence.
Direction.
The kind of rhythm that helps you keep going.

Together, we’ll explore:

• Duān Wǔ-inspired ritual and reflection

• The meaning of peak-yang timing and why this moment feels so pressurized

• Guided meditation and intuitive insight

• Practices for directing excess heat with clarity and steadiness

• A communal rhythm and cadence to carry your momentum through the rest of the year

You’ll leave feeling:

• Clearer on where your energy is being scattered

• Steadier in your body and spirit

• More resourced to direct your momentum with clarity and intention

• Less alone in what this season is asking of you

• More supported to move through the rest of summer with rhythm

108 seats.
First 18 receive Early Energy Access.

If the year has felt faster than expected…

If the heat has been overpowering…

If you can feel time moving and know you need a better rhythm for what comes next…

We’d love to gather with you. Join us INCIRCLE™ —

Get your ticket here

Then repost this to fill the circle.

The heat is already here.

It’s about to get hotter.

Come direct it with us.

Love,
Tay & Val 💗

p.s. If you joined us for Fire Horse Rising in January, this is the next question in the same conversation. The Horse asked what wants to move. Duān Wǔ asks how to direct the heat. How will you direct yours?

Leave a comment

p.p.s. In the next letters, we’ll go deeper into more of Duān Wǔ’s protective technologies. Today, we wanted to start with the drum.

p.p.p.s. If your body has been telling you something about this year’s pace, we’d trust that. It usually knows before the mind catches up.

“Why does AI adoption feel different?”

Is this change we see in the workplace with AI so fundamental that it surpasses all other momentous changes in history? Or can we treat it like any other change that we have to lead people through?

Their fears are human. Their response is human. So what’s so different about this change?

Did people feel the same way when they started using a machine to sew? How was that different? Did they have the same human fears about their job going away?

How can we lead people through this with sensitivity to the scale of it, and without knowing what is in store for them — while also adopting AI?

— Corporate Change Agent

Dear Corporate Change Agent,

Thank you for trusting us with the question.

We cast the coins. The hexagram that landed, for you, for now:

䷛ · 大过 · Great Preponderance.

Also read: Great Exceeding. Critical Mass. The ridgepole at load.

Hexagram 28 has three doors into it. We’ll open all three before we walk inside.

The first door is elemental.

A marsh over wood.

Water sitting where roots need air.

Place yourself in the middle of that.

Notice how this isn’t the kind of danger that announces itself all at once.

It’s the kind that gathers.

Saturates. Soaks the ground until what was once sturdy starts giving way slowly, almost invisibly at first.

That is what this workplace moment feels like for so many people.

Not one big dramatic event.
A slow saturation of…

Too many signals.
Too many tools.
Too many implied expectations.
Too many people smiling in meetings while bracing somewhere deeper in the body.

The team is still functioning.
The tree is still standing. Leaves up. Canopy out.
Deadlines met. Decks polished. Language intact.

But underneath?
The roots are wet.
The wood is carrying more than it was built to carry.

That is what makes this kind of change hard to read.

The danger isn’t always in the headline. It’s in the soak. In the quiet accumulation. In how long people have been absorbing pressure without language for what they’re absorbing.

The second door is structural.

Look at ䷛.

Too much force in the center. Not enough support at the edges.
A beam under load.
A roofline holding — until it doesn’t.

This is why Hexagram 28 is the hexagram of the ridgepole bending.

The house hasn’t fallen. The structure isn’t gone. But the center is carrying too much, and the supports at the beginning and end are too slight to bear it comfortably.

This names what many leaders have been feeling for a while — but haven’t been able to say aloud:

AI doesn’t just feel like change.
It feels like weight.
It feels like an existential threat.

Here’s why.

For about 200,000 years, our species has told itself a story about why we made it.

We were not the fastest.
We were not the strongest.
We didn’t have claws, armor, venom, wings.
We didn’t have the sharpest teeth, the keenest sense of smell, the furthest sight.

We had a brain. It could:

Reason. Plan ahead.
Imagine what was not here yet.
Remember patterns and pass knowledge on.
Solve problems. Collaborate.
Make tools. Make better tools.

This was our edge.
That was the deal.

Humans got to the top of the evolutionary food chain because humans did the thinking.

Every major technology before AI worked downstream of that deal.

The sewing machine changed the work of the hands.
The printing press changed the work of the scribe’s arm.
The calculator changed the work of the fingers running the numbers.

These were enormous changes.
But they did not challenge this basic human claim:

The human brain was in the room where deciding happened.

AI feels different because it does not work downstream.
It walks into the room.

It writes.
It summarizes.
It codes.
It analyzes.
It drafts.
It creates.

It starts moving inside the territory we have long treated as ours.

People aren’t just afraid of losing a job.
They’re responding to a primal fear.

Something faster, in the territory that was once uniquely ours, has entered the room…

And we haven’t agreed yet on what happens next.

This can feel urgent and existential:

Not necessarily in the dramatic sense of “humanity ends tomorrow.”
But in the more intimate, human sense:

What is my worth now?
What is still uniquely mine?
What place do I hold if thinking itself is no longer a human monopoly?

The body feels that before the mind can explain it.

The chest tightens.
The jaw locks.
The waking at 3 a.m.

Because on some deep level, the body is reading a signal older than language:

A faster brain just entered the cave.

Hexagram 28 says: When the beam is bending, do not waste energy pretending it isn’t.

The third door is the character itself.

This is where the hexagram sharpens.

Both characters matter.

大 means great, large, major, outsized.
Something bigger than ordinary scale.
Something weighty enough that you cannot dismiss it as a minor adjustment.

And 过 has two meanings.

A crossing.
And also:
An overstep.

Put them together and the hexagram holds a difficult doubleness:

A great crossing is underway.
And a great overstepping is possible.

Something major is happening. And precisely because it is major, the risk of mishandling it grows.

Asking too much, too quickly.
Calling destabilization innovation.
Confusing speed with wisdom.
Flooding people and naming it transformation.

That is the wisdom inside 大过.

Not only that the moment is large.

But that large moments tempt human beings to overreach in the name of keeping up.

So before Hexagram 28 tells us what to do, it asks something simpler:

Can you tell the difference between a necessary crossing —
and an avoidable excess?

Can you feel where the roots are already wet?
Can you see where the beam is already bending?
Can you admit that something can be historically significant and still be badly led?

Which brings us back to your sewing machine question:

People have feared technological change before. But history keeps reminding us that people are rarely afraid of the machine in the abstract.

They’re afraid of the terms of adoption:1

Who controls it, who benefits from it, who becomes cheaper because of it, and who gets told their suffering is just the price of progress.

Which means the question before us now is not only:

What can AI do?

But also:

How are we leading humanity through this crossing?

Or repost this.

If ䷛ Were An Org Chart

For this reading, we’ll walk Hexagram 28 through the second door — the structural one. Line by line, rung by rung.

Line 1 — the frontline.

Spread white rushes underneath. No blame.

The ones closest to the ground. The new hires. The AI-native interns. The IC who’s been quietly using a generative model since 2023 and only just told their manager last quarter.

They are not setting enterprise strategy. They are feeling the pressure first: shifting priorities, unclear expectations, too many asks, too little protection.

The hexagram’s instruction here is precision.

If you’re here, this isn’t the time for “fake it till you make it”.

Instead, get clear on:

• What is actually changing?

• What is expected of me now?

• What skills are worth building?

• What work still requires judgment, trust, and human nuance?

If you lead people at this level, turn abstract strategy into tangible outcomes:

• Translate the strategy memo into one named workflow they own this month

• Demo what “good” looks like — hands on keys, not slides

• Name what is changing — and what isn’t (yet) — so they can stop bracing for everything

In essence: At the bottom of an overloaded system, your power isn’t authority. Your power is clean execution.

Line 2 — the manager.

A dry poplar sends out new shoots.

The team leads. The newly promoted managers. The mid-career operator with a tired team and a “modernize the workflow” line item on their OKRs.

They may not be the loudest AI evangelists in the building. Yet they have to make a stale system come back to life — and answer for it if it doesn’t.

The hexagram’s instruction here is renewal through pairing.

If you’re here, this isn’t the time to fly solo.

Instead, get clear on:

• Who on this team has seasoned judgment but stale tools?

• Who has fresh tools but no map of the work?

• What is the smallest experiment that lets these two people learn from each other?

• Which tired process, if it grew new shoots, would change everything downstream?

If you lead managers at this level, build the conditions for unlikely pairs:

• Pair the senior analyst with the AI-native intern on a real deliverable

• Reward circulation — name the manager whose team is teaching each other

• Demonstrate permission to fail one small thing publicly without losing budget

In essence: The strongest middle managers in this season don’t simply carry the load. They restore circulation.

Line 3 — the director.

The ridgepole sags to the breaking point. Misfortune.

The director who absorbs every contradiction the layers above hand down — go faster, cut costs, raise quality, take more risk, make no mistakes — and translates it into operating reality without escalating.

Quietly proud:
I’ve got it.
Don’t worry about the team.
I’ll protect them.

Hexagram 28 says this line fails through unsupported strain.

If you are at this level:
Stop trying to personally absorb a structurally incoherent rollout.

Instead, get clear on:

• Which contradiction is the layer above asking me to personally hold?

• What gets crushed if I keep absorbing it silently?

• What does honest escalation look like — not as failure — but as the leadership move?

Escalate. Push for sequencing. Push for resourcing. Push for fewer priorities. Push back.

If you lead directors at this level, build the brace before the beam bends:

• Normalize escalation as a weekly ritual, not an emergency move.

• Sequence the rollout in writing — name what gets dropped to make room.

• Resource the rung with one extra senior body, or kill a workstream. Both are valid.

• Tell directors out loud: Silent over-functioning is not the bar. We will not promote you for it.

In essence: Quiet over-functioning isn’t leadership.

Line 4 — the VP.

The ridgepole is braced. Good fortune. If motives are ulterior, it is humiliating.

The senior cross-functional leader. The VP with budget, headcount, and the actual room to redistribute work. The adult in the room, on the rung that can rebuild support before the building collapses.

If you are senior enough to allocate resources, your job is not motivational language.

Your job is structural mercy.

That means: training budgets, clear use cases, risk guardrails, realistic productivity expectations, human review, workflow redesign, and protection against “pilot fatigue”.

If you’re here, do not merely announce AI. Hold up the beam.

Audit and action:

• Where am I bracing the beam, and where am I bracing the optics?

• What stretch (or pet) project would I cut if no one was watching?

• What support do my Line 3 directors actually need — versus what looks good in the deck?

• Is the fix I’m proposing changing the structure, or preserving my pride?

If you lead VPs at this level:

• Fund training, guardrails, and human review — name the line items

• Redistribute headcount toward the rung that’s bending, not the rung that’s visible

• Reward the leader who quietly rebuilt, not the one who publicly announced

In essence: A real senior leader doesn’t just inspire performance during overload. They rebuild support.

Line 5 — the C-suite.

A withered poplar puts forth flowers. No blame. No praise.

The town hall. The AI vision deck. Innovation week. The carefully worded memo. The new internal brand for the transformation.

They’re not putting on a show. They seriously believe the symbolic work is the work. The narrative is real to them. The flowers are real flowers —

They just aren’t roots.

The hexagram’s instruction here is don’t mistake bloom for recovery. The company may look better for a quarter. But the root system is still old and overloaded.

If you’re here, nice messaging is not enough.

Instead, ask yourself:

• What honest answers are still missing about role redesign, mobility, and whose labor gets made more precarious?

• What did my directors (Line 3) tell me last month that I haven’t acted on?

• If I walked three floors down tomorrow, would the story I just told on stage hold?

• Am I leading the transition, or narrating it?

If you lead executives at this level, make symbolic work earn its keep:

• Pair every town hall with one structural change that goes live the same week

• Tie executive comp to retention at Lines 1–3, not just enterprise revenue

• Replace “AI-first” language with named decisions about who does what differently next quarter

In essence: Bloom isn’t recovery. Flowers are not roots.

Line 6 — the CEO.

One must go through the water. It goes over one’s head. Misfortune. No blame.

The founder. The executive sponsor. The head of the house. The one who has to cross first.

The one who wants to rescue everyone:
Sometimes with sincerity.
Sometimes with guilt.
Often with the impossible promise that no one will lose, no one will grieve, no one will be left behind.

This is the rung where intention is honored and the water still goes over the head. This is also where 大之过 and 大事过 converge most obviously.

The hexagram’s instruction here is honest crossing.

If you’re here, this isn’t the time to “play hero”.

Instead, get clear on:

• What do I actually know, and what am I still guessing?

• What promise am I about to make that the future will embarrass?

• Where am I mistaking personal sacrifice for structural leadership?

• What does dignity look like — in writing — if roles change?

If you lead CEOs at this level — board members, chief-of-staff, executive coaches — hold them to honest crossing:

• Draft a “what we do not know” slide, alongside the vision

• Pre-commit to a decision-making process for the layoffs that may come, before the moment arrives

• Define dignity in measurable terms: severance floors, internal mobility windows, transition support

In essence: At the top of the ladder, watch out for over-responsibility without limit.

The Real Sensitivity People Need

Corporate Change Agent, you asked how to lead people through this with sensitivity to the scale of it.

A lot of leaders think sensitivity means saying softer words.

Sometimes it does.

Mostly, it means naming facts — and — holding truths.

People don’t need you to pretend this is tiny.
They don’t need you to declare it the end of human work either.

They need you to hold both truths at once:

This is a very big change.

And —

We’re still responsible for how we make change happen.

That second sentence is where too many leaders fail.

Because they talk about AI like weather.

As if it’s simply arriving.

As if no one needs to make design choices, implementation choices, staffing choices, pacing choices, communication choices — and bear the weight of each decision.

So What Should Leaders Do Now?

Hexagram 28 says:

Do not lead this as if it were minor.
Do not lead it as if collapse were inevitable, either.

Lead it as a moment of excess pressure — the ridgepole at load — that requires:

• truth before reassurance

• structure before slogans

• worker voice before workflow redesign

• experimentation with guardrails

• reskilling with dignity

• fewer simultaneous demands

And —

Enough humility to admit that some of the fear is not resistance. It’s wisdom.

Because sometimes the body knows the beam is bending before the org chart does.

And maybe that is the deepest gift of 大过.
It doesn’t ask us to choose between optimism and fear.

It asks us to become accurate — to name the great mistake we are most afraid of and the great passing we cannot refuse — at the same time.

And from accuracy, shifts become possible.

From grasping at certainty — to standing in steadiness.
From gripping for control — to leading with integrity.
From guaranteeing the landing — to walking together, through a time that is, in fact, heavier than usual.

So if nothing else, know this:

You’re not leading a workflow change.
You’re holding people through bearing the weight of one.

And you’re built for it — because you felt the weight before you had a word for it.

Your body knew the beam was bending before the org chart did.

You already have the wisdom you need to lead your team through this.

Love,
Tay & Val 💗

p.s. This is Ask TV Reading 001. We’ve held this practice close for fifteen years. We’re learning how to open it out loud at the speed of a newsletter. Bear with us as we find the rhythm.

p.p.s. If a question is ripening for you — about a room you’re holding, a beam you’re feeling, a crossing you can’t unsee — send it.

Ask TV here

Here’s the setup:
Six months of intensive learning.
Every major AI on the market.

ChatGPT. Claude. Grok. DeepSeek. Claude Code.

All remarkable.
All useful.

And still.

The one we trust most for the decisions that keep us up at night?

It has no app.
No update.
No subscription fee.

It predates electricity by about 5,000 years.

It’s called the I-Ching | 易经

Pronounced: ee-ching. Also written: Yi Jing.
Translation: Book of Changes.

The I-Ching is one of the oldest living texts in human history.

Anchored in wisdom that’s 5,000 years old.
Written into text over 3,000 years ago.
Consulted by emperors and generals.
By farmers and philosophers.

And quietly, for the last 15 years, by two Singaporean womxn making decisions about bikes and apartments and stages and homes.

Here’s what it is — in the simplest way we know how to say it:

The I-Ching is a system of 64 hexagrams:
Each one a portrait of a moment.

Abundance. Obstruction. Return.
Waiting. Conflict. Grace.
Breakthrough.
Retreat.

You bring your question.
You toss six coins — all at once.
The pattern that lands points you to a hexagram.

That hexagram becomes your mirror.

Nuh-uh.
Not a prediction.
Not a prescription.

A mirror.

And here’s what makes it different from every other tool we’ve tried:

It doesn’t add more information.
It crystallizes what’s already there.

In a world drowning in data and opinion and noise — the I-Ching cuts through to the truth that’s been sitting in your heart this whole time.

Situations are ever-changing.
Every decision has a million permutations.
But underneath all of it — there is only ever one truth.

And it’s usually quieter than the noise around it.

The I-Ching helps you find the stillness beneath all the permutations.

Once you connect with that stillness, the decision becomes obvious.

Three Times It Changed Our Lives

(in a you-can’t-make-this-sh*t-up kinda way)

2010

We wanted to leave our careers, say goodbye to our families, and cycle around the world, asking strangers one question:

“What’s your dream?”

No salary. No safety net.

Just two womxn, two bikes…
and a question most people were afraid to ask themselves.

We tossed the coins.
The hexagram didn’t say yes or no.

It said: Your intention is sound.

Stay true to it — and the kindness of humanity will meet you.

It did.

That journey became #DreamsUnlimited.
It brought us here, to you.

2020

Covid.

The Seattle skies had turned purple from wildfire smoke.

We’d just been displaced from our apartment with nowhere to go.

We tossed the coins.

The hexagram pointed: Return.
Restoration is waiting in the place you came from.

We flew back to Singapore.

We healed in ways we didn’t know we needed.
Ways that are still reshaping who we’re becoming — moment to moment.

2023

We’d been searching for our first home in the Pacific Northwest for a full year.

Multiple offers.
Multiple heartbreaks.
The kind of exhaustion that starts to feel like an answer.

We tossed the coins one more time.

The hexagram said:
There is a house you’ve already seen.
That could be your home.
Revisit it.

We did.
We’re writing this from that house —
Now, our home.

Fifteen years.
Three continents.
Decisions we couldn’t have made from logic alone.

And every time — six coins, one breath, one question held with full attention — the truth we already knew found its way to the surface.

We want to do this with you.

Introducing Ask TV

An advice column powered by Ancient Intelligence.

You bring us a real question.
We cast a hexagram on your behalf.

We translate the reading:
Specifically for the situation you’re navigating,
in practical ways you can implement immediately,
and publish it here on Substack.

Your question stays anonymous.
Your name stays out of it.

But the wisdom?
That’s yours to keep.

Just some of the questions we’re holding space for:

• Should I start my own business — or is the timing wrong?

• My team keeps saying everything is fine. It doesn’t feel fine.

• I’ve been offered an opportunity abroad. My gut says go. My head says wait.

• I’ve outgrown this relationship but I don’t know how to let it change.

• We’re trying to decide between two cities. How do I know which one is home?

• I have an idea that won’t leave me alone. Is this the year?

• I’m being asked to lead something I don’t feel ready for.

• I keep starting over. When does the building begin?

• I want to be in love. Where can I find the one for me?

Work. Relationships. Leadership.
Travel. Belonging. Timing. Courage.

The I-Ching doesn’t judge the question.
Neither do we.

If it’s alive enough in you that you typed it — it’s worth casting for.

→ Submit your question anonymously here

We read every one.

And we’ll cast for the questions that feel most alive, most urgent…
most like the thing someone needed permission to ask out loud.

You might see your question answered here.

Or you might see someone else’s question —
and feel something shift in yourself.

That’s the other gift of this kind of wisdom:
It rarely belongs to just one person.

We’ll see you in the reading.

Love,
Tay & Val 💗

Ask TV here

p.s. Not ready to submit? Just stay and read. Watch what the hexagrams say about situations that might mirror your own. Ancient Intelligence has a way of speaking to the person who needed to hear it — even when they didn’t know they were listening.

Subscribe now

p.p.s. If you’re new here — welcome. We’re Tay & Val, two Queer Asian womxn who left Singapore in 2010 to cycle the world on a dream. That dream brought us to the US, to keynote stages, to the work of helping people lead with more of who they actually are. The I-Ching has been in our bag the whole time. We’re glad to finally introduce it to you.

p.p.p.s. Know someone sitting with a decision they can’t quite crack? Send this to them. The I-Ching has a way of finding exactly who needs it.

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We’ve been deleting ourselves for decades.

We’ve been writing with em-dashes our whole lives. Long before AI came along — mid-thought, mid-breath — instinctively reaching for that dash.

It’s how our brains work. One thought interrupts another. A sidebar slips in. A feeling lands before the sentence is ready for it.

The em-dash holds all of that.

And then…
Something shifted.

People started calling it a tell. A telltale sign of AI-assisted writing.

Suddenly, the punctuation mark we’d been reaching for became evidence. Proof that a machine wrote this, not a person.

So people started removing them.
To sound more human.

And quietly — without even realizing it — so did we.

We’d catch ourselves mid-edit.
Deleting the dash.
Replacing it with a comma, a period, a nothing.

There. More human now.

Except.
Human didn’t feel like Tay & Val.

Ouch.

Read and re-read this:

We were removing the most human parts of ourselves —
to prove we’re human.

Sit with the absurdity of that.

Not just the punctuation.
The pattern.

Because when we sat with it — really sat with it — we realized the em-dash wasn’t the first thing we’d edited out.

There’s the accent Tay “corrects” by holding chopsticks in her mouth and speaking out loud — before a call, or filming a video, or taking the stage.

After someone told her that her accent “dilutes” our message — that people might not understand her.

So we looked up tricks to “fix” it.

There’s the way we laugh — covering our mouths, going silent, because goodness gracious good girls never 🤣

There’s the “she” Val adds to their “they” pronouns — so there’s 50% less chance for anyone to get it wrong, in a world that’s still learning to get it right.

(plus: “…well, she doesn’t look like a ‘they’…”)

There’s the last name “Tay” uses as her first name — because Siang Hui is too difficult, too different, too ________ .

(but we can all say “Schwarzenegger” no problem)

There’s the love we introduce as “my partner” in a room we haven’t read yet. The quick scan of faces. The calculation. The breath before speaking.

And then there are the times we had to choose:

Do we go to the Queer panel discussion…
or support a fellow Asian speaker’s workshop…
or join the Neurodivergent meetup session?

(read: Is it safer for us to be Queer, Asian, or Neurodivergent here?)

Conditional Belonging

All of it — small compressions.

Traded for what we hope is legibility.
Acceptance.
Belonging.

None of them dramatic.
None of them violent.
Just… adjustments.

The kind you make so often they stop feeling like choices and start feeling like who you are.

Until one day you delete an em-dash from a sentence and think:

Wait.
When did I start editing myself to match someone else’s template of “real”?

We speak on belonging for a living.

We stand on stages and tell rooms full of people:
That you deserve to take up space.
That your whole selves are welcome.
That brave spaces are about expanding into your (sometimes uncomfortable) truths.

And then we go home and hold chopsticks in our mouths to practice sounding less like ourselves.

Turns out — we’re still asking for permission to belong.

So we want to name this.
Gently. Clearly.
Because we think you might recognize it too.

Belonging that requires you to pretend is not belonging.

It’s a lease on a nice apartment —
pending credit scores,
background check,
and whether the smell of your dinner is too exotic for the hallway.

It’s conditional.
Renewable annually.
Subject to change without notice.

And so many of us have been paying rent on it for so long…
We forgot we’re just long-term guests, not actual home-owners.

Bring The Dash

Real belonging — the kind worth staying for — doesn’t ask for your em-dashes.

It doesn’t ask for your accent.
Your name.
Your pronouns.
Your love.
Your way of connecting thoughts into sentences.

It doesn’t need you to translate yourself to be understood.

It doesn’t need collateral.

Real belonging says:

Bring the chopsticks story.
Bring the pronouns.
Bring YOUR name and teach us how to say it.
Bring that beautiful open-hearted, open-mouthed laugh and most definitely…

Bring your love.

Bring the dash.

We’re Tay & Val. We’re also 翔蔚 (Siang Hui) and 欣惠 (Xin Hui).

Queer, immigrant, Asian womxn who write with em-dashes.

And after a brief, uncomfortable experiment in pretending we don’t —
we’re keeping them.

This is us making a stand.

Practicing unconditional belonging —
starting with ourselves.

Practice with us:

What’s something you’ve quietly edited out of yourself — that it’s time to put back?

We’re not asking rhetorically. We actually want to know.

Leave a comment

Say it out loud. Let someone witness it.

Because putting yourself back together is easier when someone sees you do it.

And we’re watching.

Love,
Tay & Val 💗

p.s. If this piece found you at the right time, share it with someone who needs permission to em-dash away.

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p.p.s. And if you want to support more of this — the stuff we write when we’re not filtering, hedging, pretending — consider subscribing.

Subscribe now

You could feel it in the way people typed their intentions into the chat. In the silence after the meditation. Like something old and patient finally got the chance to move:

“I hadn’t felt this lightness in a long time.”

“I finally know what to do next.”

“Something released that I didn’t even know I was carrying.”

“Thank you.”

We gathered INCIRCLE™ for a 90-minute Fire Horse Rising ritual.

We held the names of every person who showed up.
We cast a collective hexagram.
We set intentions across 12 areas of life.
We released what was ready to complete.

If you were there — you already know. The recording is in your inbox, waiting whenever you want to return to it.

But for those of you who couldn’t make it…

We kept thinking about you.

The people who saw the posts and felt the pull.
The ones who meant to register and then life happened.
The ones who heard about the ritual afterward and wished they’d known sooner.

And we kept the door open for you.

If you felt the pull of the Fire Horse this year but couldn’t join us live, you can still step into the ritual.

You Still Have Time

The Fire Horse year arrived on February 17th this year.

It won’t return for another 60 years.

Tay (the Horse) will be 108 then.

The Fire Horse doesn’t wait for permission. It doesn’t ask for certainty. It acts first, then learns how to run — longer, faster, stronger.

That’s still true.

And here’s what else is true:

The year is still young. We’re only three weeks into it.

The energy that moved through that ritual — the I Ching wisdom, the guided practices, the intention-setting across health and love and career and purpose — it doesn’t expire.

The ritual works because the Fire Horse year works.

And the Fire Horse year runs until February 5, 2027.

That’s 49 more weeks of this energy — bold, fast, freedom-seeking.

You have time.
But only if you begin.

Step into the Fire Horse Rising ritual

What’s In The Recording

The 90-minute Fire Horse Rising ritual — originally held live, now available on demand.

Move through it at your own pace. Pause when something needs space. Return to it in June when momentum stalls, or in October when you need to reset.

Many participants told us they plan to revisit it every season — as a reset, a recalibration, a reminder of what they came here to do.

Because Fire Horse energy can be powerful.
Used well, it fuels courage, momentum, and bold decisions.
Left unattended, it can also lead to overextension and burnout.

This ritual helps you tend the fire — not by pushing harder, but by returning to clarity about what truly matters.

Inside:

• Lunar New Year ritual and intention setting

• Wisdom from the I Ching, including the collective hexagram

• Guided meditation and intuitive insight

• Energetic release and activation practices

You’ll leave the ritual clear on your priorities, with renewed confidence to take your next steps — and with a felt sense of what it means to ride this year rather than endure it.

The Ritual Reaches Further Than the Room

During the live gathering, our circle donated 1,500 meals to Feeding America.

That was part of the ritual.

In Lunar New Year traditions, prosperity has never meant accumulation alone. It means circulation — resources moving outward, nourishment reaching further than the people gathered in the room.

So we built that into the container.

For every recording purchased, 18 meals will be donated to Feeding America on your behalf.

Eighteen is considered a number of prosperity in Chinese tradition — its sound closely echoes the phrase for “certain to prosper”.

So when you join the ritual, the energy doesn’t stop with you.

It moves outward.

When you tend your own fire — and feed someone else’s table — that’s the Fire Horse year working exactly as it should.

You Have People

The hexagram 同人: Fellowship said this year favors alliance over isolation.

Shared vision over solo striving.

We cast a special hexagram for the live circle.
That guidance now belongs to everyone who steps into this ritual.

When you press play, you’re not watching a recording in an empty room.
You’re joining the intentions of every person who showed up.

The ones who typed their fears into the chat and hit send anyway.
The ones who felt it move through them, and stayed.
The ones who left clear, and have been moving differently ever since.

Their intentions are woven into this container.

Yours will be, too.

That’s what 同人 really means — not just finding your people, but becoming the kind of presence that steadies others.

A single flame flickers. Flames gathered together steady each other.

You don’t have to figure this year out alone.
You never did.

Registration Closes April 21, 2026

After that, we close the circle — as the Fire Horse Rising container was always meant to be a season, not forever.

If something in you has been waiting for permission to begin…

This is it.

Get the Fire Horse Rising recording

Or forward this to your 同人 — the person walking this year alongside you.

With love,
Tay & Val 💗

p.s. If you were at the live ritual and something shifted for you, we’d love to hear. Share it in the comments or reply to this email. Your story might be exactly what someone else needs to read to take the leap.

Leave a comment

p.p.s. If you’re on the edge, wondering if this is really “for you” — the 同人 hexagram had something to say about that: Fellowship in the open succeeds. The door is still open. Come as you are.

Today marks the first day of the 🔥Fire Horse🐎 year. May you move with clarity, courage — and the right companions beside you.

Every year since 2020, we have done something that grounds us—even when (especially when) everything else feels uncertain.

We sit down and ask the I Ching for guidance.
We cast a hexagram for the year ahead.
We set an intention based on the hexagram.

It’s become our anchor. Our compass. Our reminder that some wisdom transcends our limited human perspective.

According to the 皇极经世书 (Huáng Jí Jīng Shì Shū: an 11th-century cosmological text that maps the I Ching to celestial cycles)—this Fire Horse year carries Hexagram 13 (䷌):

天火 (Tiān Huǒ )—Heaven over Fire
同人 (Tóng Rén)—Fellowship with People

Its message:

This year is about finding your people.

What 同人 Actually Means

The structure of the hexagram ䷌ shows us:

Heaven (☰) above.
Fire (☲) below.

Fire rises toward heaven naturally. But it must be tended. Left unattended, it burns out. Or burns down.

The text of the hexagram says:

同人于野，亨。利涉大川，利君子贞。
Fellowship in the open succeeds.
Favorable to cross the great river.
Favorable for the noble-hearted to persevere.

同人 (tóng rén) translates literally as “same people.” But it doesn’t mean sameness of background or personality. It points to shared intention. Shared values. Shared direction.

Kindred spirits.
Fellow travelers.
People who will keep showing up, together.

The hexagram acknowledges something important: There will be a great river to cross this year. After all, obstacles are built into the Fire Horse's intensity.

But here’s the key:

Rivers are not crossed alone.
You need companions who understand the current, who can help steady you when the water rises.

This is a year that favors…

Alliance over isolation.
Shared vision over solo striving.
Collective alignment over individual heroics.

The fire of personal passion becomes exponentially more powerful when combined with others who carry their own flame.

The I Ching has always understood what moments like this demand.

And this moment demands fellowship.

How We’ve Harnessed This Wisdom

We began consulting the I Ching during the pandemic because everything felt unmoored. We needed steadiness. Pattern. Perspective.

Last year, we received Hexagram 46: 升 (Shēng)—Ascending.

With this guidance, we chose “Progress” as our word.
Not perfection. Not polished. Not pleasing. Progress.

We wrote 升 on our calendar. We kept returning to it when resistance showed up.

That one anchor shifted how we moved.

We published LinkedIn posts that felt unpolished—and one went viral because it was honest.

We launched our #WorkLifeLove video series with one imperfect video—and ended the year celebrating 100 that resonated with thousands.

We started this Substack with one reader—and felt genuine gratitude as each new subscriber joined us.

The I Ching didn’t remove fear.
It didn’t erase obstacles.
It didn’t make the work easier.

But it clarified direction.

And that clarity carried us all the way to the mainstage at the NGLCC Conference:

What This Year Is Asking

The I Ching doesn’t just predict outcomes. It reveals the quality of the moment so you can move in rhythm with it.

This year’s hexagram 天火同人 says:

Find your people.
Cross the river together.
Let your fire meet other flame.

Think about fire.

A single flame flickers in the wind and can be snuffed out.
Several flames steady each other.
A gathered fire warms, illuminates, protects.

Isolation can masquerade as strength. We know that story well. But isolation shrinks momentum. Fellowship multiplies it.

Today is the first day of the Fire Horse year.

You get to decide how you will meet it.

This cycle will not repeat for another 60 years.

You can white-knuckle your way through intensity.
Or you can ride it in aligned company.

This Year, Together

Join Us Here

For this Fire Horse Rising ritual, we’re doing something we’ve never done before.

Before we gather, we will hold the names of every participant and cast a collective hexagram specifically for this circle.

Not a general forecast.
Not a generic message.
A reading for the people choosing to step into this container together.

During the ritual, we’ll work with that collective guidance as a group. Each person will receive individual insight from within the collective container.

That is 同人 in practice.

As a circle of co-conspirators shaping the field together:

We’ll set intentions across 12 key life areas.
We’ll release what has completed its cycle.
We’ll activate aligned momentum for what’s ready to begin.
We’ll work with meditation, intuitive inquiry, and I Ching wisdom that have guided transitions for thousands of years.

You’ll leave clear. Grounded. Activated. And connected.

We gather in four days.
There are 108 seats.
If you feel the pull, you already know.

See you INCIRCLE™

Love,
Tay & Val 💗

p.s. Who is your 同人 right now? The person who steadies you when the current rises, who carries their own flame and makes yours burn brighter. Name them in the comments—or tell us what fellowship means to you this year.

Leave a comment

p.p.s. If someone came to mind while you were reading this—your 同人, your kindred spirit, your fellow rider—this invitation is for you both. We're offering a special bring-your-person rate: two tickets, one price. Because this is not a solo year.

Ride In 2GETHER

Even though they’re not a Horse (Chinese Zodiac).
But because they carry Yang Fire in their system.

If you were born in a year ending in 6 — 1966, 1976, 1986, 1996, 2006, 2016 —
This isn’t just a moment you’re witnessing.
This is an energy you already know.

Yang Fire is not subtle.
It moves outward. It accelerates. It reveals.
It demands truth and action—in the same breath.

When Yang Fire is expressed cleanly, it becomes courage, innovation, leadership, creative breakthroughs.

When it’s suppressed or unmanaged, it turns into exhaustion, reactivity, anxiety, burnout.

And many people experiencing these symptoms right now aren’t necessarily just tired…

They’re overheated.

A Pattern Worth Paying Attention To

Looking back over the last 60 years, Yang Fire cycles (years ending in 6) consistently coincide with moments of global acceleration — moments that felt chaotic at the time, but catalytic in retrospect.

1966 brought cultural upheaval and human rights milestones.
[Cultural Revolution, First ATM, founding of NOW]

1976 marked endings of long wars and the birth of technologies that reshaped modern life.
[Viking 1 landed on Mars, Nadia Comăneci's perfect Olympic 10, Apple Computer founded]

1986 exposed devastating failures and unprecedented global cooperation.
[Chernobyl, The Oprah Winfrey Show, first global Earth Summit planning]

1996 opened doors to scientific firsts and digital connection.
[Dolly the sheep cloned, Google began as “BackRub”, Spice Girls]

2006 shifted the global conversation toward accountability and ethics.
[Twitter launched, An Inconvenient Truth, UN Human Rights Council]

2016 cracked open social systems while igniting rapid technological expansion.
[Paris Agreement, Brexit, CRISPR gene editing breakthrough]

Different decades.
Same signature.

Fire destabilizes what can’t hold.
Fire accelerates what’s ready to move.

It looks like chaos.
But chaos, in this sense, isn't destruction.
It's reorganization.

As we once said at CreativeMornings Seattle:

Chaos is life on autocorrect.

Something is correcting course.

Why This Matters Now

We’re entering the Year of the Fire Horse, officially beginning February 17.

This creates what many traditions call “double fire” — the Horse’s natural fire paired with the year’s Yang Fire.

Yang Fire accelerates whatever is already in motion.
Habits gain speed. Emotions surface faster. Decisions arrive sooner.

This is why some people feel unusually driven right now
— and others feel unusually depleted.
The same energy is at work. The difference is direction.

When fire moves without awareness, it scatters.
When fire meets attention, it organizes.

Historically, Yang Fire years compress cause and effect.
What’s aligned advances quickly.
What’s misaligned becomes uncomfortable to maintain.

How to Work With Yang Fire (Instead of Burning Out)

This Yang Fire doesn’t need to be extinguished.
It needs to be tended.

Enter mindfulness.

Mindfulness, in this context, isn’t about calming down or checking out.
It’s the practice of staying present enough to steer intensity.

Here’s what that looks like in real terms:

• Notice heat early.
  Irritability, urgency, mental looping, over-functioning — these are signs of excess fire, not personal failure.

• Pause before momentum becomes force.
  A brief interruption — breath, stillness, naming what’s actually happening — redirects energy before it spills.

• Clarify one true direction.
  Fire multiplies effort. Without clarity, it multiplies exhaustion. With clarity, it creates breakthroughs.

• Ground the body.
  Fire lives in the nervous system. Regulation happens somatically, not intellectually.

This is why ritual has always mattered in fire-heavy times.
Beyond symbolism, ritual provides fundamental structure.

Ritual creates a container where intensity can move with purpose — where insight turns into action without burning the person carrying it.

Which is exactly why we're gathering.

And You’re Invited

Fire Horse Rising

A Lunar New Year Prosperity & Blessings Ritual

RSVP Here

We’re gathering INCIRCLE™ — a live, intimate, intentionally held space — for a 90-minute ritual to work consciously with this Fire Horse year.

We're not trying to put the fire out.
We're learning to tend it—together.
With clarity, grounding, and choice.

Together, we’ll work with:

• Lunar New Year ritual & intention setting

• Wisdom from the I Ching

• Guided meditation & intuitive insight

• Practices for releasing excess fire and activating aligned momentum

This is especially supportive if you:

• Carry Yang Fire energy and feel “on edge” rather than energized

• Sense something wants to move, but not through force

• Are ready to lead, create, or speak — without burning yourself out

You’ll leave feeling:

• Clear on your one true direction — not scattered across possibilities

• Steadier in your body when the heat rises — regulated, not reactive

• Resourced to move without burning out — momentum with sustainability

• Connected — not navigating this transition alone

If you feel the fire,
this is a place to tend it 👇

Register For Fire Horse Rising

Early Energy Access is limited to the first 18 RSVPs — we have just a few spots remaining.

If someone comes to mind as you read this, send them this post.

Share

Fire has always been tended in community.

Love,
Tay & Val 💗

p.s. What's one sign that you're overheated right now—not just tired? (Irritability? Mental looping? Urgency without clarity?) Name it below. Sometimes naming is the beginning of tending.

Leave a comment

p.p.s. If you're reading this and feeling “I need this, but...”—the “but” is welcome too. Ritual isn't about having it figured out. It's about having a container to figure it out in. Come as you are.

p.p.s. If you registered already—thank you for trusting us with this threshold 🙏💗🙏 If you're still deciding: the fire won't wait, but you don't have to meet it alone. We're here.

On February 17, the first New Moon of the Lunar New Year, the Wood Snake completes its cycle and hands the reins to the Fire Horse.

The Snake year asked for quiet courage.
Introspection. Shedding skins. Strategic restraint.

In numerology, 2025 carries the energy of 9 (2+0+2+5): completion, endings, release.

You may not have tracked this consciously—but you might have felt it.

We certainly did.

Last year asked us to let go of identities, relationships, ways of working, and versions of ourselves that had quietly expired. We told our naturopath we kept waking up at 3am. She said, “That’s grief.”
She was right.

Completion rarely looks dramatic.
Often, it just feels like a long, honest exhale.

And after completion… comes beginning.

Enter the Fire Horse

In numerology, 2026 brings us to 1 (2+0+2+6 = 10 → 1): initiation, movement, leadership.

The Horse carries a very different energy than the Snake.

It’s bold.
Freedom-loving.
Fast.

Add the fire element, and the Horse doesn’t just move—it moves with conviction.

The Fire Horse doesn’t wait for permission.
It doesn’t ask for certainty.
It acts first, then learns how to run—longer, faster, stronger.

The Fire Horse asks us to:

• Begin the project that’s been quietly alive in your heart

• Step toward the relationship you’ve been longing for

• Radically accept yourself—and let that be freeing

• Take real steps toward financial freedom that supports your impact

• Speak with authenticity and be seen and heard

The Fire Horse year rewards action. Not perfection. Not overthinking. Action.

What We’re Saying Yes To (Even Though It Scares Us)

In the spirit of action—and honoring the #BraveSpace we’re cultivating here—we want to share three things we’re committing to this year:

Opening our home through Airbnb
😨 The idea of strangers in this polarized world scares us deeply.
☺️ We’ve long dreamed of creating a safe, nourishing space for our queer, immigrant, neurodiverse community—a home away from home.

Returning to public live virtual retreats
😨 The last time we opened ourselves publicly in this way, we were met with an experience that broke trust and left us deeply hurt.
☺️ And still—our hearts keep calling us back to gather people in spaces of depth, care, and real transformation.

Creating self-guided offerings for passive income
😨 The work feels overwhelming. What if no one buys?
☺️ And yet—the vision of spaciousness, scaling, and sustainability lights us up.

An Invitation (for You, and for Us)

The Fire Horse brings rapid change whether we want it or not.

We can brace against it…
or we can take the reins.

This is our way of choosing the latter.

We’re hosting a live virtual gathering:

Fire Horse Rising

A Lunar New Year Prosperity & Blessings Ritual

You’re the first to hear about it.

We’ll be gathering INCIRCLE™—our intentional circle: a live, intimate, lovingly held container—for a 90-minute ritual to consciously work with this once-in-a-generation energy.

Together, we’ll explore:

• Lunar New Year ritual & intention setting

• Wisdom from the I Ching

• Guided meditation & intuitive insight

• Energetic release and activation practices

Not to hustle.
Not to force outcomes.

But to move with clarity, alignment, and momentum.

You’ll leave feeling:

• Clear on what matters now

• Energized to take your next steps

• More at ease navigating change

• Supported by intention—rather than pressure

The Fire Horse won’t return for another 60 years.
We’ll be nearly 100.

So if something in you feels stirred…
If you sense a chapter turning…
If you’re ready to move—imperfectly, honestly, bravely—

We’d love to gather with you.

The first 18 registrations receive Early Energy Access👇

Join us here

And if this speaks to you, feel free to share it with someone you love.
Some journeys are better begun together.

Love,
Tay & Val 💗

p.s. As you read this, what feels ready to move in your life—even if you don’t yet know how? We’re curious what the Fire Horse is stirring in you.

Leave a comment

p.p.s. If something in this post stirred a quiet yes—or even a nervous flutter—you’re warmly invited to gather INCIRCLE™ with us for Fire Horse Rising. Sometimes the bravest thing to do is not go alone.

The moments that change us the most don’t always happen in the spotlight. They happen in the in-between spaces — the hotel hallway, the coffee station, the walk toward the elevator when the official program ends.

Last week at the NGLCC International Business and Leadership Conference, we had the honor of closing the opening plenary with our #DreamsUnlimited keynote. We talked about belonging, about (in)visibility, about the courage to hope.

But this isn’t a post about that keynote.

This is about what happened after. About three conversations that reminded us why real change happens not just in the spotlight, but also in the spaces between…

And why you might be creating more impact than you realize in your own everyday moments.

Because impact isn’t always measured by applause, standing ovations, or stage lights. Sometimes impact is whispered in hallways, carried in pockets, offered in candy, written on sleeves, and remembered in the heart.

You know this already. You’ve been the person who stayed after the meeting to check on a colleague. You’ve been the one who sent the follow-up text that someone desperately needed to hear. You’ve been the hallway hero more times than you realize.

1. Trevor: Pride on His Sleeve

As we made our way down the hallway towards the elevator lobby, we saw someone coming towards us, rolling his sleeves up.

TBH: we had a “should we run for it?” moment.

But Trevor wasn’t coming for us in anger. He was coming to show us something sacred.

He rolled up his sleeve to reveal words written on his arm, right over the scar from his transition surgery—his dream:

📸 Photo courtesy of Trevor, shared with his permission

In that moment, he stood taller. You could feel the pride radiating from him—not just in his identity, but in his purpose. We felt it too.

It filled the hallway, filled our hearts, filled the space between strangers becoming witnesses to each other’s dreams.

“As a transgender man in today’s society,” Trevor told us, “it's hard to imagine the LGBTQ+ kids growing up today with less certainty about their safety and rights than I have had the privilege to know.”

His voice was steady, sure. This wasn’t just hope—this was commitment etched into skin, into scar tissue, into the very site of his transformation.

“I manage the Economic Inclusion program for my organization and attend so many conferences every year. Your keynote was the most inspiring I have seen, and it left a deep impact on my outlook and mindset.”

Not just kind words. A soul was touched. His dream, sharpied onto a sacred site, was his response.

It’s been a tough year for DEI, for Queer folks, for anyone who dares to dream of a world where belonging isn’t conditional. But Trevor’s pride—radiating from that hallway, from his sleeve, from his unwavering commitment to the kids who come after him—warmed our hearts from the inside out.

Sometimes courage looks like taking the stage. Sometimes it looks like rolling up your sleeves. And sometimes—maybe most often—it looks like being the person who notices someone else’s courage and chooses to witness it.

2. Dennis: Standing on Shoulders

Dennis found us by the morning coffee station. His voice quivered as he told us about his sister—the one he deeply loved and respected, the one who was a trailblazer, the one who had passed. As he spoke about her, he placed his hand over his heart.

“We’re all standing on the shoulders of many before us,” he said. “Your message resonated with me, right here.”

There’s something profound about a person placing their hand over their heart while speaking about the people who came before us. It’s where we carry them—not just in memory, but in the very rhythm of our lives, in the choices we make, in the dreams we dare to live.

Dennis is part of the banquet staff at the Bellagio, where he’s served countless conferences and seen countless keynotes. Yet something about ours made him want to seek us out, to let us know it touched him, to tell us to keep going.

And here’s the thing. Dennis sought us out at the very moment we were looking at the seas of people at the conference, having a, “Did we really make it here?” moment.

Like the perfect messenger, Dennis reminded us about a video we’d made about overcoming imposter syndrome—

about remembering the ones who came before us:

And standing there with Dennis, hand over heart, speaking about his sister with such tenderness and reverence, we understood something deeper about that truth.

We’re not just standing on shoulders—we’re carrying hearts. We’re not just honoring legacies—we’re extending them.

Moments like this re-grounded us:

We’re not just speaking to audiences, we’re speaking into lineages, into the lives and legacies of those who paved the way.

Every time we take a stage, we’re not just representing ourselves—we’re representing the sister Dennis loved, the hopes our ancestors carry, the dreams that were deferred so ours could take flight.

As an elder who has witnessed hundreds of speakers and moments of transformation, Dennis didn’t just give us feedback. He gave us his heart—and reminded us that the most powerful thing we can do is acknowledge the shoulders we stand on, whether we’re speaking to thousands or speaking to one person who needs to hear: “You’re not alone.”

3. JD: A Sweet Reminder

Then there was JD, part of the camera crew perched on the side of the ballroom, capturing videos of the speakers on stage. We went to thank him before leaving for the airport—a small gesture of gratitude for the people who make the magic possible from behind the scenes.

Right before we left the ballroom after thanking all the crew, JD emerged from behind his camera, walked up to us, reached into his pocket and pulled out two Kopiko candies. Almost shyly, he pressed them into our hands.

“Here's your pick-me-up for the road. Keep going.”

Simple. Quiet. Yet in that gesture was a whole world of encouragement.

For those who don't know, Kopiko candies are those intense coffee-flavored hard candies—think Werther's Originals, but with the power of espresso. They’re the kind of thing Asian elders keep in their pockets—not fancy, not Instagram-worthy, but real sustenance for the long day ahead.

This gesture meant the world to us, in ways that might not translate to everyone. Like our Asian elders who don't always have the words for “I love you” but always made sure we were fed and had a roof over our heads, JD was offering what he had: his sustenance, his pick-me-up, his way of saying, “I see you working, and I want you to keep going.”

In our culture, this is love. Quiet, practical, generous love. The kind that doesn’t announce itself but shows up anyway—in Kopiko candies pressed into palms, in words whispered after the crowd goes home, in the recognition that we all need something sweet to sustain us on the journey.

You’ve been JD for someone else. Maybe you offered a piece of gum to a nervous colleague before their presentation. Maybe you saved an extra coffee for the person running late to the morning meeting. Maybe you were the one who noticed someone sitting alone and made space for them at your table.

These moments? They’re not small. They’re significant.

Why These Conversations Matter

We often measure impact by metrics we can count: audience size, engagement rates, standing ovations. But impact is also measured in moments we can’t quantify—in the courage someone finds to write their dream on their arm, in the way someone’s hand finds their heart when speaking about those they’ve lost, in the quiet generosity of candy shared between strangers.

Three conversations. Three lives intersecting with ours. Each one saying in its own way: “Keep going. This matters.”

Trevor reminded us that our stories can give others permission to wear their dreams proudly—literally on their arms, figuratively in their lives.

Dennis reminded us that we’re part of something bigger than ourselves, part of a continuum of courage that stretches backward to honor those who came before and forward to create space for those who come next.

JD reminded us that the work is sustained not by applause but by community, not by grand gestures but by the quiet ways we care for each other along the way.

The Real Stage

The real stage isn’t just where the spotlight shines. It’s everywhere we choose to show up—in office hallways, beside elevators, in the moments after the meeting officially ends, in the group chat where someone’s having a hard day.

The real audience isn’t hundreds in a ballroom. It’s the one person who sees their story reflected in yours, who finds courage in your everyday bravery, who decides to keep going because you kept going.

The real impact isn’t measured in immediate applause. It’s measured in dreams people finally feel brave enough to speak out loud, in hearts that remember they're not alone, in small acts of sustenance shared between souls who recognize each other as fellow humans just trying to belong.

You’re Already the Hero

This is why we built this Substack.

Not for the applause, but for the aftermath.
Not just for the big moments, but for the in-between spaces where the real transformation happens.

For the hallway heroes who don’t even know they’re heroes.

If you’ve ever wondered whether your story matters, whether your voice makes a difference, whether anyone really sees the quiet ways you show up—Trevor, Dennis, and JD want you to know:

Your impact might not fit in a performance review or a LinkedIn update. It might live in hallways, in pockets, in the quiet moments after everyone else has gone home.

But it’s real. It matters. And the world needs it now, more than ever.

So keep rolling up your sleeves—literally or figuratively. Keep carrying the ones who came before you. Keep sharing whatever sustenance you have to offer.

And remember: the most profound conversations often happen not just on stage, but in the beautiful, messy, sacred space of the in-between.

Keep going. This matters. You matter.

Love,
Tay & Val 💗

p.s. We read every comment and reply. Your hallway conversations, your in-between moments, your quiet acts of impact—they all matter. We’re here for your whole story, not just the highlight reel.

p.p.s. To every hallway hero reading this—everyone who has ever been the Trevor, Dennis, or JD for someone else, who showed up in the in-between moments to offer encouragement, witness, or sustenance—thank you. You’re the ones who make the world worth showing up for.

Pull Up A Chair

What's your version of a hallway conversation? A moment when someone’s quiet courage changed you, or when your story unexpectedly touched someone else? This table values those in-between stories—the ones that don’t yet make headlines, but made all the difference. Share in the comments. We’re listening. 👇

Pass the Mic: Forward this to someone who needs to remember that their quietest moments of impact might be their most profound ones.

Share

Stay Connected: If this resonated, tap the heart 💗 and subscribe to stay at this table where every story—especially the in-between ones—belongs.

All the tender new buds, the promise of blooms—gone. Chopped off. 🥀🥀🥀

Our first feeling wasn’t sadness or frustration.

It was fear. 😨

“Did someone hate us enough to come into our yard and destroy what we love?”

And down the rabbit hole we went.

What if they come back? What if they do worse next time?

What if we’re not safe here—in our own home?

What if we’re not safe anywhere?

The spiral was swift and familiar. Our bodies braced for danger that felt everywhere and nowhere all at once.

(We later learned it was just the bunnies, doing what bunnies do. But the fear was real. And so was the rabbit hole.)

Another day, a cop car parked across the street. He stayed for almost an hour. It felt like forever. ⏳

We avoided every street-facing window, our bodies tight with a question we couldn’t shake:

“If he sees us… will he know that we’re immigrants?”

Another rabbit hole: What does he want? Is he watching us? Should we hide? Should we run?

This is what hypervigilance can look like.

This isn't just stress. It's a nervous system shaped by survival. The way so many of us move through the world…

We scan.

We brace.

We calculate risk—

Before we unmute on a work call.

Before we open the front door.

Before we hold hands walking down the street.

What We Found at the Bottom of the Rabbit Hole

If this resonates with you, we want you to know something important:

You’re not “too sensitive”.

You’re not “overreacting”.

And you’re certainly not alone.

In a world that doesn’t always feel safe—especially for queer, Asian, immigrant folks like us—hypervigilance makes perfect sense.

It’s how we’ve protected ourselves and our loved ones.

Here's what we discovered in those dark spiral moments: Fear lives in our bodies—and so does joy.

Climbing Back to the Light

In the first post of our 4-part #BraveSpace series, we wrote about how brave starts within—in our bodies, in our breath, in our brains.

We created this to remind ourselves: Your brave doesn't have to be loud. It just has to be yours.

Hypervigilance is also a form of brave. It’s your body learning to protect what matters most.

But with care and practice, we can expand what our bodies know how to hold. We can:

🌱 Breathe without waiting for the other shoe to drop

🌱 Rest without surveillance

🌱 Turn down the volume on hypervigilance so we can hear our own joy again

This work isn’t about avoiding the rabbit holes. It’s about learning we can climb back out.

It’s about giving our protective instincts more options than just survive.

And it starts with tending to our whole selves:

• Resetting the nervous system

• Reclaiming the stories our bodies still carry

• Restoring the boundaries that help us feel safe—so we can feel free

So that we get to ask—and answer—What would help us thrive?

Your Rabbit Holes Welcome Here

What does hypervigilance look like in your life?

Maybe it’s:

• Checking every face when you enter a room

• Your shoulders tensing at the sound of footsteps behind you

• Rehearsing conversations three times before speaking up

• Feeling like you’re enacting “normal” instead of just being human

And maybe your rabbit holes sound like: What if they judge me? What if I say the wrong thing? What if I don’t belong here? What if I’m too ________?

Here’s what we know:

Sometimes, simply naming what we carry helps lighten the load.

Share one rabbit hole your mind goes down when hypervigilance kicks in. Or tell us one way your body has been trying to protect you. No judgment here—just witnessing. This is your brave space to belong. 👇

Leave a comment

Before You Go

The bunnies are still out there, probably plotting their next rose bush raid.

The cop cars still park across streets. Our bodies still brace, still scan, still calculate.

And that’s okay.

Because we’re learning something new: Hypervigilance isn't the enemy of joy—it's been protecting the space where joy can grow.

Your body has been doing sacred work, keeping watch so your heart could keep beating, keep hoping, keep loving.

So here's what we want you to remember:

Every time you scan a room, you're choosing to stay present.

Every time you calculate risk, you're choosing to stay alive.

Every time you climb out of a rabbit hole, you're choosing joy.

The rose bushes taught us that what looks destroyed can bloom again. Your nervous system is teaching us that what feels heavy can also hold lightness.

Both things can be true. Both things are brave.

Love,
Tay & Val

p.s. That early post about brave starting within? It was written for exactly this moment—when you needed to remember that your quiet brave matters too.

p.p.s. We read every comment. Your story matters. Your rabbit holes matter. Your way back to joy matters. We’re listening.👇

She came around by the end. But that phrase stuck with us.

Back then, we told our story like a fairytale:
Two queer Asian women. Big dreams. Burnout.
Love. TEDx. Awards.

Cue applause. 👏👏👏

The audience wanted the bow on top—the “happily ever after” they could clap for and carry home. We gave it to them. 🎀

But here’s the truth no one told us about belonging:

It doesn’t end when the applause begins.

• After the first “yes”, there’s the tenth “no”

• After you come out, you keep coming out

• After our wedding, there’s the neighbor who asks about the “husband”

• After the workplace installs all gender bathrooms, there’s the coworker who keeps misgendering you

• After U.S. marriage equality, there’s still 377A in other countries—and book bans in our own

Case in point:

“So… who’s the bride?” A real question we've been asked—about our own wedding, and while officiating another.

We used to think belonging was a destination.

Now we know:

• It’s the grit in your teeth on the long walk home

• It’s the way you still hold your breath in rooms where you’re technically welcome

• It’s the stories we swallow because they’re too messy for a mic drop

That journalist’s critique became a litmus test for our storytelling—especially the #DreamsUnlimited stage.

“Are we doing a Disney?” is our code for:

• Are we enacting belonging instead of living it?

• Are we editing out the messy middle for mass appeal?

• Are we enforcing “happily ever after” when it’s really “happily never after”?

Because here’s what we’ve learned:

The world doesn’t need more perfect stories. It needs more honest ones.

So we stopped performing the fairytale.

Instead, we’re building a table where…

The chairs don’t match.

The tea is strong.

The stories don’t have morals.

No bows. No endings.

Just the kind of talk that happens after the crowd leaves—when the blazers come off, and the real work begins.

If you’ve ever felt the tender ache between…

“I made it” and “Why does this still hurt?”

We saved you a seat. (Quietly, like we do.)

Pull up a chair here

1. Why We Built This Table

   Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

   We started this Substack when our “Permission To Belong” post got us locked out of our LinkedIn account. Apparently, too many people resonating with your story is suspicious activity. 
   
   We’ve since regained access, but the irony isn’t lost on us. Our post about belonging got us temporarily un-belonged from our own account. 
   
   It was the nudge we needed. Instead of relying solely on borrowed platforms, we’re building our own Brave Space. Right here. 
   
   Where belonging isn’t performance-based, popularity-based, or algorithm-approved. It’s unconditional. 
   
   Read the post that started all of this 👇

2. Share Your Story
   What moments have shaped your understanding of belonging? The awkward smiles, the over-preparation, the quiet ways you’ve made space for yourself? This table values your voice—your honest story might give someone else courage to tell theirs.

   Leave a comment

3. Pass the Mic
   Forward this to someone who needs this table. The more mismatched chairs, the better.

Share

Before You Go

We used to end our talks with a call to action: “Go chase your dreams!”

Now we know better.

The real work isn’t chasing anything. It’s staying.

Staying when the story gets messy. Staying when there’s no applause. Staying when belonging feels like a daily practice instead of a final destination.

So instead of “go chase”, we’ll say this:

Stay curious about your own story—especially the parts that don’t fit in fairytales.

Stay tender with yourself on the long walk home.

Stay at this table as long as you need.

The tea’s always warm. The conversation never really ends. And there’s always room for one more chair (matching not required).

Love,
Tay & Val

p.s. We read every reply. What’s your version of a “Disney” moment—when you realized the perfect story wasn’t serving you? We’re listening.👇

p.p.s. If this resonated, tap the heart 💗 and/or share it with someone who’s been performing their fairytale when they need permission to live their truth.

That's what we did when the producer said, “We think your story will sell better if we replaced you with two white women…who are best friends.”

We smiled.

Later, we told ourselves we were being polite. Strategic. Professional.

But the truth?

We were scared.
Frozen.
Fawning.

Because when someone suggests erasing your story, the body sometimes agrees.

If we disappear ourselves first, maybe it won't hurt as much.

We kept that moment inside for 10 years.

Replayed it.
Wondered what would have happened if we'd said something different.
If we’d been braver.

We told ourselves it was just business.
Just how the industry works.
Just the way things are.

And.

Every time we smiled through another microaggression…
Every time we laughed off a backhanded compliment…
Every time we pretended we didn’t feel the gut punch from the callous comment…

Every. Damn. Time. We made ourselves smaller so someone else could stay comfortable…

We were back in that room. Agreeing to our own erasure.

This week’s video series is for every time you’ve smiled through the erasure—and later wished you hadn’t.

We’re not perfect at this. But we’ve learned a better way.

It’s called BRAVE.

And it starts with admitting this truth:

We weren't being strategic.
We were surviving.
And survival mode kept us way too small for way too long.

Here's what we wish we'd known then—and what we know now.

BRAVE The World

This week, we practiced saying the things we once kept inside.
On camera. In public. With our full selves present.

Seven real moments. Seven brave responses.
One framework that changes everything.

Here’s how we BRAVE the world—one step at a time.

1. Hollywood Wanted Us Straight and White

Fight, flight, freeze, fawn—there's another way.

Ever smiled when someone says something completely wrong? We did. Right there in that Hollywood meeting, we went full deer-in-headlights while someone suggested erasing us from our own story. And actually started nodding…

💬 Can you remember a time you smiled instead of speaking up? What happened next? Drop us a note—we’re holding space for your story, too.

2. B = Back Online

When your thinking brain goes offline.

“Are you like... lesbians?” Ever get a question that felt like a gut punch? This one did. We walk you through the brain’s “offline” moment—and how to come back online, so you can choose your response.

🔁 Know someone who’s ever been asked “Are you like…?” Send this their way. We made it for anyone who’s ever gone offline—and wants a way back to themselves.

Share

3. R = Resource Yourself

Safety, support, speaking up—what matters most right now?

Some comments seem like compliments—until they’re not. Before you snap or shrink, resource yourself. We show you how.

💬 What's one way you resource yourself when someone says something that lands wrong? Share your wisdom with us.

Leave a comment

4. A = Activate Your 2.0

Lean into the version of you you’re becoming.

“Who’s the man in the relationship?” The question that tries to fit your love into a box it was never meant to fit. Here’s how to navigate exhausting assumptions and respond from intention, not irritation.

💌 Growing into your 2.0? Join a community that’s rooting for you. You don’t have to do it alone.

Subscribe now

5. V = Voice Your Truth

Someone’s watching right now, realizing they are possible.

We share our story because we never saw love like ours growing up. If you’ve ever been told you’re too loud, too visible, too much—this one’s for you.

💬 What's one truth you've been afraid to voice publicly? We're listening and holding space.

6. E = End The Harm

Stop the pain replay.

Harm doesn’t end when the moment passes. It ends when we stop replaying it on loop. Give yourself permission to release what you never deserved to carry.

🔁 Share to give others the same permission, too.

Share

7. B.R.A.V.E. In Action: This Is For Our Younger Selves

The Hollywood meeting—take two.

We went back to that moment—where they asked us to disappear—and practiced what we wish we’d said. Watch the redo. The reclaiming. The BRAVE.

💬 What's one moment you'd handle differently now? Share it below—your growth might inspire someone else's courage.

Leave a comment

🗳️ What BRAVE Moment Should We Revisit Next?

We’re not just telling our stories—we’re creating space for yours. Which everyday challenge should we rework using the BRAVE method next? Vote below, or share your own moment in the comments.

Leave a comment

Coming Up Next

Previously: Brave Within → Brave Together → Brave @ Work

This Week: Brave The World

Next: Brave The Summer ☀️

We’ve taken brave space out of the boardroom and into the everyday moments that try to shrink us.

Next week, we’re heading into the heat—navigating family BBQs, street comments, awkward assumptions, and more.

Because brave space isn’t just for work.

It’s for any moment your nervous system wants to tap out—and your 2.0 self wants to step in.

Until then:

Keep softening where you used to snap.
Keep breathing when you want to bolt.
Keep showing up—with truth and tenderness.

One sidewalk, one side-eye, one brave beat at a time.

Love,
Tay & Val

p.s. Did one of this week’s videos give you a script, a shift, or a second chance? Pass the BRAVE on. Someone else is still faking fine.

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p.p.s. We read every reply. Which BRAVE step felt most possible for you this week? Tell us below 👇

Quarterly check-in. Cameras on. Smiles tight. Someone cracked a joke—one of those comments that gets slipped in with a chuckle and a “you know how they are…”

The room laughed. Not maliciously—just… reflexively.

And then Tay tilted her head. Raised one eyebrow. Unmuted.

“What do you mean by that?”

That was it.

No lecture. No callout. Just a question that made the air shift.

The laughter didn’t come back. But something better arrived instead: a beat of reflection.

A moment where someone got to think twice. Where everyone else got to see what interruption with care looks like.

We’ve been thinking about that moment all week. How brave space doesn’t always come in with a bullhorn. Sometimes, it tiptoes in with an eyebrow raise. A pause. A choice.

This week’s videos are about those choices.

The ones that seem small on the surface:

• Sliding your chair toward someone who’s being ignored.

• Naming a microaggression instead of brushing it off.

• Starting a meeting with boundaries that build belonging.

• Giving credit to a queer teammate in front of the room—not just in private.

Together, they don’t just shift conversations. They change culture.

One Zoom square at a time.

1. Leaders: Don’t Brush This Off

Brave at work is the professional thing to do.

“Wow—you're so well-spoken!” The compliment that cuts. The smile that masks the sting. What happens when a manager witnesses a micro-aggression but doesn't know what to say? Watch how one simple acknowledgment transforms a toxic moment into a teaching one.

🔁 Share this if you know a manager who needs to see this.

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2. Quiet Allyship That Actually Works

Nod to affirm, slide a seat over, step up beside someone being interrupted.

We don't need louder allies—we need braver accomplices. Watch how sliding a chair closer and making eye contact can be more powerful than any grand gesture. Because sometimes the bravest thing you can do is lean in.

💬 Crowdsourcing quiet courage: What’s one quiet way you've shown allyship that made a real difference? Drop it below—your micro-moment might inspire someone else’s brave action.

Leave a comment

3. When “It’s Just A Joke” Really Isn’t

“It’s just a joke” isn’t a pass—it’s a door.

When someone deflects harm with humor, you don't have to come in hot to shut it down. Watch three pocket scripts that invite reflection instead of defensiveness.

🔁 Share this, because someone in the room needs these exact words.

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4. Brave Space: One Choice At A Time

Healing happens one choice at a time.

Share your pronouns. Credit a queer teammate. Ask who’s missing from the conversation. Watch how brave space gets built in private decisions and public patterns—one choice creating permission for the next.

💌 Brave spaces start with you. Subscribe—we’ll help you build them, one choice at a time.

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5. Better Team Meetings Start Here

Brave space is built before the meeting begins.

Watch what boundaries to set before the meeting begins to create space for every voice to be heard.

💬 Leaders: What’s your go-to tip for creating braver discussions?

Leave a comment

6. Why “How I Can I Help?” Fails

This ‘helpful’ offer keeps the burden on them.

Watch how leading with action instead of asking creates the safety to name what's actually needed. Because trust is built through doing, not just checking in.

🔁 Restack this for managers who think they’re helping, but are actually putting the work back on their team.

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7. Three Ways To Practice Pride Daily

Brave space includes cross-cultural curiosity. Pride isn't just a parade—it’s perspective.

Watch a queer show. Read a queer author of color. Try a queer-owned restaurant. Watch how expanding your lens at home creates belonging at work.

💬 Share your recs: What's one thing you’ve discovered that expanded your perspective?

🗳️ What Workplace Challenge Should We Tackle Next?

We're building this brave space with you—which means we'll go deeper into the workplace dynamics you want to explore. Vote below, or tell us what other workplace challenge is calling to you.

Leave a comment

Coming Up Next

Previously: Brave Within → Brave Together
Now: Brave @ Work
Next: Brave The World

We're taking these workplace moments into the wider world. Because brave space doesn't clock out at 5pm.

Until then:
Keep leaning in.
Keep interrupting harm.
Keep making room.

One Zoom square, one meeting, one choice at a time.

Love,
Tay & Val

p.s. Did one video give you the words (or courage) to speak up? Pass it to a colleague who needs it—maybe the one who hesitates before hitting ‘unmute’.

p.p.s. We read every reply. Tell us: Which moment this week made you think, “I could try that tomorrow…”? 👇

“You live, work, play—everything!—together. How do you stay together? Do you fight at all?”

We like to answer with the six most powerful words on Substack:

Let me tell you a story…

The 50-Year Marriage That Almost Ended Over Dinner

There was a couple, A and Z, who had been married for 50 years.

One day, A told Z, "Let's get a divorce. I'm not happy at all. I can't do this anymore."

Because Z loved A so much, Z wanted more than anything for A to be happy. Z agreed, "Would you at least sit down and have one more meal with me before you go? Let me cook for you one last time."

"Sure," A shrugged.

That evening, Z went to the farmers' market, bought the freshest ingredients, and spent all day cooking the very meal they had when Z proposed: Honey-glazed roast chicken, rosemary potatoes, and olive-oil Brussels sprouts.

The whole house filled with delicious aromas as Z set the dining table, placed a vase of fresh flowers, and lit the candles. Dinner was ready.

Z plated the meal with love, giving A the drumsticks—the parts Z thought were the best: moist, tender, juicy—and kept the scrawny wings.

Z gave A the golden potatoes and perfectly roasted sprouts—and kept the burnt, broken ones.

Z smiled and said:

“Thank you for joining me.
Thank you for saying yes to me 50 years ago.
And thank you for saying yes to this final meal.”

As Z sat down to eat, Z noticed tears streaming down A's face.

“What's wrong, love?”

A burst out, “Everything! Don't you see? This is why I can't do this anymore! Why do you have to make me eat those damn drumsticks every time???”

Flabbergasted, Z tried to wipe A's tears with Z's napkin. “B-b-but... the drumsticks are the best part of the chicken! They're my favorite! I wanted you to have the best, so I gave them to you and kept the scrawny wings for myself. I gave you the best! C’mon now. Please! Stop crying!”

A blew their nose in Z’s napkin, took a deep breath and said:

“But the wings are MY favorite parts.”

Our Relationship Code

This story became part of our shared language.

Asking each other, “Are you doing a chicken wings VS drumsticks?” is our code for:

• Are you doing what you think is best for me (drumsticks)—
  or what I know is best for me (chicken wings)?

• Are you loving me at the expense of yourself—
  giving me the golden potatoes and keeping the burnt ones?
  I can’t trust a love that’s not sustainable.
  I can’t love someone who won’t love themselves.

• Are you asking me to stop ranting, stop crying—stop suffering—
  by giving me solutions and telling me what to do?
  Stop. Stay in this discomfort with me.
  And maybe offer your shirt sleeve to wipe my snort off.

This week’s videos are about this kind of love:

Learning each other’s “chicken wings”.
Leaning into the brave space between assumption and understanding.
Loving ourselves first, so we can love each other better.

Before your next act of love, ask:
Is this their chicken wings, or mine?

Let’s start here.

1. Brave Together Starts Here

One simple sentence. One moment of being truly seen. Everything shifted.

What happens when someone notices you've been interrupted... and actually does something about it? Watch how one simple sentence can shift an entire room's energy—and why it matters more than you think.

💬 Can you remember a time you felt safe enough to be brave? What happened next? Share it below—we're holding space for your story.

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2. How To Stay When It Gets Hard

Brave together ≠ Say the right thing = Stay through the hard thing

We used to panic when emotions ran high—then we discovered something that changed everything. Watch what happens when you choose presence over problem-solving.

🔁 Restack this if you know someone who needs permission to just... stay.

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3. 3 Words To Stop Fighting

Brave together isn’t avoiding rupture. It’s choosing repair.

Most of us avoid conflict in one of three ways—and they're all sabotaging connection. Watch us reveal the three-word phrase that turns arguments into understanding.

💬 Crowdsourcing community wisdom: What do you say to choose repair during a rupture?

Leave a comment

4. What Your Fights Are Really About

Let them in. When you risk being real, you give permission for realness.

It’s rarely really about the dishes. Watch what happens when we stop fighting about what’s on the surface—and name what’s underneath.

🔁 Restack this because someone who needs the reminder: It's not about the dishes.

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5. The Quiet Ways Love Shows Up

You don't have to say a lot to say “I’ve got you.”

What do you do when someone you love says “I’m scared”? Watch the tiny gestures that say “I’ve got you” louder than any words.

💬 What's one quiet way you’ve loved someone this week? Share it below—your micro-moment might inspire someone else’s brave love.

Leave a comment

6. Are You Sisters?

You don't owe anyone an explanation. You don't have to come out to every stranger.

That awkward question that tries to fit your love into a box. Here’s how we handled it—and the words that gave 4,000+ (and counting) people a way to name their love.

💌 Subscribe to build this brave space with us—one where love doesn’t need to explain itself.

Subscribe now

7. We Didn’t Always Dare To Show Love

From being small to being on stages.

There were years we made ourselves smaller just to stay safe. Then something shifted. Watch our journey from the back row to center stage—one brave step at a time.

💬 What's one way your love has grown braver?

🗳️ Go Deeper With Us

We're building this brave space together, which means we’ll dive deeper into what you want to explore.

Leave a comment

Coming Up Next

Previously: Brave Within.
Currently: Brave Together.
Next up: Brave @ Work

We’re bringing chicken wings vs drumsticks into the conference room.
Because the world doesn’t just need louder allies—it needs braver accomplices.

The kind who ask:

“Am I showing up the way you need me to… or just staying where I feel safe?”

Until then:
Keep discovering each other’s chicken wings.
Keep loving each other.
Keep braving together.

We’re right here with you.

Love,
Tay & Val

p.s. We can't remember where we first heard this Chicken Wings and Drumsticks story, but it changed everything for us. If you know its origin, help us credit the storyteller who became our accidental marriage counselor 💗

p.p.s. If the chicken wings story stirred something within you, share it with someone who's been eating drumsticks when they wanted wings.

p.p.p.s. We read every comment. What's your version of “chicken wings vs drumsticks” moment? We're listening. 👇

But absence didn’t mean indifference—it meant intention. We chose to honor Pride in a quieter, braver way: By turning inward.

Because before we can build brave spaces out there—in boardrooms, breakrooms, and block parties—we have to make one here first:

In our bodies.
In our breath.
In our brains.

This week’s videos are gentle reminders:

Your brave doesn’t have to be loud.
Or polished.
Or even confident.

It just has to be yours.

1. Your Light Matters

Shine bravely. Like it matters. Because it does.

Your presence alone can be a lighthouse for someone still lost in fear. So we lit a candle, pulled a card, and set intentions for how we’ll shine this Pride.

💬 Shine with us. Comment: “I shine by ______.” (Fill in your brave)

Leave a comment

2. Feeling Off? 2 Ways To Reset

Showing up brave doesn't mean pushing through. It means pausing.

We offered two simple tools: a breath reset and a body check. Because the fastest way back to brave… is back to yourself.

💬 Breath, body, or both—which anchors you?

Leave a comment

3. Almost Crawled Under The Table

I forgot. I returned. That’s brave.

We blanked in a client meeting. They read our own proposal back to us. And yes—Tay nearly crawled under the table.

💬 What kind thing have you told yourself this week?

Leave a comment

4. How To Show Up #Brave

Real courage isn't about fixing those cracks...

But finding them. And letting them remind you: This is where the light gets through.

💬 Where have you found your brave lately?

Leave a comment

5. This Hurt…But Helped Us

The way you love you… is the way they’ll feel loved.

Tay’s harsh self-talk spilled over—and it stung. But it also cracked something open.

💬 What’s one thing your harsh inner voice says? Drop it below—we’ll offer a kinder, braver rewrite.

Leave a comment

6. Stop Locking Yourself Out

Belonging isn’t a prize. It’s a practice.

When we saw the speakers list, our first thought wasn’t, “We made it!”—it was “Do we deserve this?”

💬 Which door(s) are you opening—for yourself—today?

Leave a comment

7. When You #Brave Like This

Joy isn’t frivolous. It’s fuel.

Val danced like no one was watching. Here’s what happened next:

💬 What’s one way you can #Brave like no one’s watching?

Leave a comment

🗳️ What do you want more of?

We're building this brave space with you. Which means we’ll go deeper into the topic you want more of.

Substack only lets us include 5 poll options. So we’ve selected 3 videos from this week, and left space for you to tell us if there’s something else calling to you.

Leave a comment

Coming up next

This was Week 1 — Brave Within.
Next up: Week 2 — Brave Together.
We’ll move from the space within…
to the space between.

Until then:
Keep practicing brave within.
Keep shining.

You’re not alone. You’re home.

Love,
Tay & Val

p.s. If one video helped you breathe, share it with someone holding their breath—a friend, colleague, or beloved.

Share

p.p.s. We read every comment. If something stirred, landed, or sparked… tell us. We’re listening.

Leave a comment

Today, it’s the title of a session proposal we wrote
for this year’s Out & Equal Workplace Summit.
The submission form asked:
"Is your presentation team
reflective of your presentation topic?"

And then it hit us.

There hasn’t been—
a city we’ve cycled through,
a conference we’ve spoken at,
a community we’ve connected with,
or even just a room we’ve walked into…

Where our bodies, our brains,
our hearts weren’t whispering:
"Permission to belong?"

This photo is from one of the final episodes
we filmed for our month-long video series honoring
Asian American Native Hawaiian Pacific Island Heritage (AANHPI)
and Mental Health Awareness month in May.

We’d just had an unexpected tender moment.

Tay asked,
“What’s our intention
for lighting the candle in this scene?”
Val blurted out,
“May this light be a beacon
for all immigrant kids who’ve…”

They couldn’t finish before the tears came.

You see—we’re immigrant kids ourselves.
Kids of immigrants to Singapore.
And “kids” who’ve since left our birth families there,
and immigrated here.

Too many times than
our nervous systems can take,
we’ve heard the same sentence:
“It’s a privilege for immigrants to be here.”

We get it. It is.
And—
Who doesn’t want to bloom where they were planted?

Subscribe now

If a plant could survive where it landed,
why would it go through the pain of uprooting itself—
navigating unfamiliar land, skies, everything—
in the unguaranteed hope to experience its full bloom?

So yes, we understand it’s a privilege to be here.

That’s why we’ve work
twice as hard for half the pay
(literally—because we’re a duo,
often hired as one speaker).
We’ve been accused of "spoiling the market".
We wonder—if these same folks were to hire us,
would they pay us double?

That’s why we used to smile awkwardly
in the face of racist, sexist, disrespectful
—even outright derogatory—comments.
Not just people-pleasing.
Not just conflict avoidance.
It’s called fawning.
Another trauma response—
just as real as fight, flight, or freeze.

That’s why we over-prepare.
Completing each other’s sentences
isn’t just chemistry.
It’s years of practiced embodiment.
Matching our outfits isn’t just a cute brand.
If you’ve seen us speak, you might’ve noticed—
we match our slides too.

It’s not just perfectionism.
It’s strategy.
To reduce as many cognitive barriers as possible
for an audience who might already
—consciously or not—
expect us to fail.

If we had to…
“spoil the market”
“people-please”
and “perfect”
our way into working, living,
and loving here—again?

We would.

Because while most people’s
best wedding moment might be
the vows, the dance, the toast—
ours was at the county office.

Waiting in line.
Alongside people getting
birth certificates.
And death certificates.

There wasn’t a separate line:
👉 Queer people wait here. 👈

Our love was as human as life,
and death.
Just as human as our impulse to
overachieve, overaccommodate, overperfect.

THIS is why we created this substack.
For the immigrant kids.
Whether you were kids of immigrants—
or kids who left and became immigrants yourselves.

So much of professional development,
leadership training,
self-help advice tells us:
Unlearn your bad habits.
Break the cycle.
Just do this instead.

We're here to say:

Those habits?
They got you here.
We’re proud of you for that.

That cycle?
You’re not in it alone.
Even if the world expects you to “make it” on your own.

And no.
You don’t have to “just do” anything to belong.
Not with us. Not here.

You do.
Already.
Belong.

No earning.
No proving.
No permission required.

Love,
Tay & Val