“For me, childhood roaming was what developed self-reliance, a sense of direction and adventure, imagination, a will to explore, to be able to get a little lost and the figure out the way back.”
Portrait by Melissa Habegger
Who am I?
I collect rocks from my travels and save trail maps in a binder that’s bursting at the seams. I’m a sucker for well-told stories, perfectly crafted jokes and good conversation. I prefer meeting friends for hikes rather than for cups of coffee. I’ve filled my home with too many houseplants and like to believe I was a tree in a past life. Cloudy skies are much more interesting to me than clear blue ones. Petrichor and komorebi are two of my favorite words. Once I missed a flight because I lost track of time playing with Norwegian ponies on the side of a fjord. I’ve listened to far too much of The Doughboys podcast and I consider myself part of the Burger Brigade. I used to work at a tiny Bay Area hip hop magazine where I once drove Too $hort around in my 1998 RAV4 for an interview. Fresh mangos, lian-wu and lychees satisfy my sweet tooth and connect me to my motherland as a Taiwanese-American immigrant. The week I spent backpacking in Yosemite's High Sierra backcountry left me awe-inspired and humbled by the California wilderness. I live in San Francisco Bay Area with my husband, our son, calico cat and a school of freshwater fish.
What makes me happy
If it’s raining, you’ll find me in the redwood forests of the Oakland hills, chasing fog and splashing in puddles. In the winter, I crave road trips to Death Valley along Highway 395 to feel small among desert mountain ranges. I love catching sunrises during morning runs around Lake Merritt and sunsets from wanderings at the Albany Bulb. When I need to clear my mind, I go to the ocean and listen to the waves. Nothing makes me happier than setting out on a hike with no particular destination, camera in hand, letting my heart lead the way.
WHY THE OUTDOORS?
I cherish childhood memories of snow days spent alone in the woods behind our home in Westford, Massachusetts. From the trunk of a fallen tree, I would watch snow drift about before dissolving into a meandering brook. I felt no sense of urgency, no sense of time. Just peaceful silence and contentment. As an adult, especially in moments of personal stagnation, I find myself trying to recapture that feeling. It's a search that inevitably leads me outside, time and time again. Because outside is where magic happens. It's a boundless source of inspiration. Life breathes in perfect rhythm and time traveling to prehistoric lands feels possible. When I'm outdoors, I'm filled with overwhelming gratitude for living. I recalibrate my perspectives, my priorities and feel grounded like ancient roots. The act of slowing down and going outside has become an essential practice and an important part of my daily routine. There is freedom in being open, in being vulnerable, in accepting our place in this grand world.