Alvin Soon

In the city of clocks, everything ran like clockwork. Until a storm came and a price was asked.

They say you cannot cross the same Shatun twice. There is no map, no path and no promises.

I didn’t become a Buddhist when I believed. I became one when I learned to practice.

Three stories about Rikyū, the Japanese tea master.

Three generations, reflecting one another. Patterns and parallels, unplanned.

A particular season of reading: on prayer, yoyū, and story.

Happiness is the gift you don’t own.

Is talent destiny? When a dream assignment in Japan went wrong, I learned it might be something you earn.

A shrine, a storm, and a choice to keep walking.

My heart no longer lives in my chest. It lives in two people I’d give everything to. This letter is for them.