What Mayan ruins Taught Me About Family, Identity, and Returning Home 🏠 - Edition 14 // 12.12.25

Dear curious explorer of the world 🌏,

I’m writing this from Guatemala — after moving through three different time zones, countless airports, and a whole month of traveling with my parents. It’s been chaotic, beautiful, exhausting, and strangely revealing.

If I had to name this season of my life, I think I’d call it:

A Season of Family Discovery.
Maybe even ancestral healing in its own unexpected form.

This trip took us into Tikal, one of the most sacred ancient cities in the world — a place people say shifts your spirit the moment you step into the jungle. I expected to feel something profound right away. How could I not? I was standing among pyramids built thousands of years ago, surrounded by a culture that dances between the cosmos and the earth.

But what surprised me most was not how connected I felt…
It was how disconnected I felt.

The jungle noises scared me — the insects, the animals I couldn’t see but knew were close. I couldn’t understand the language. And suddenly, the spiritual part of me, the part I’ve grown into over these past few years, felt quiet. Almost muted.

And in that moment, I realized something important:

We carry different selves depending on the environment we’re in.

Walking through Tikal with my parents, I didn’t show up as the “spiritual facilitator Shanshan” or the “worldly, expanded version of myself.”
I showed up as the daughter who grew up in a traditional Chinese household, the girl shaped by routines, expectations, and a certain way of being.

It was like watching two worlds inside me bump against each other —
one formed by my upbringing,
one shaped by the life I've courageously created since then.

And maybe the real spiritual lesson was seeing that both are true.

Slowly, gently, I saw how I could bring my parents along with me.
How I’m not just traveling with them — I’m inviting them into the world I now live in.
And they, in their own way, are inviting me back to where I came from.

That bridging… is its own form of healing.

Being in Tikal also made me realize something I don’t think we talk about enough:

We’ve become afraid of nature.
Jaguars, snakes, insects, the unpredictable wildness — the parts of the world ancient civilizations lived in harmony with — now scare us.

We live in concrete jungles and forget that we come from real jungles.
How ironic that nature is our original home, yet we no longer know how to be in it.

And then it hit me:
The Maya and the Dao share the same worldview — that we are one with nature, that we rise and fall with it.

The Maya practiced Daoism without ever meeting the Chinese.
They built cities in alignment with the stars, lived by cycles, and understood balance.
And perhaps their downfall came when that balance was broken — another reminder that nothing survives when we forget our relationship with nature.

But the moment that touched me the most was something simple:

Last year, I stood at the pyramids of Giza with my parents.
Today, we stood together at the pyramids of Tikal.

Two ancient civilizations.
Two continents.
One lifetime.
My parents were by my side both times.

And I realized something tender and true:

I was not open to receiving.
And so I got only a surface-level experience of the place.
But maybe that was perfect.
Maybe Tikal wasn’t asking me to be spiritual.
Maybe it was asking me to see the humanity in my own family.

Growing up, I used to think love looked like what I saw in movies —
“I love you,” hugs, big expressions.

But standing in Tikal, watching my parents bicker about snacks and shade and directions,
I suddenly saw the love they’ve always shown me in their way:

In the nagging.
In the small daily frustrations.
In following me halfway across the world every year.
In walking through jungles and ruins just to be with me.

Sometimes I feel guilty for feeling impatient or critical of them, for judging them through the lens of the world I’ve stepped into.
But then I remember — they come from a life that was only one small plot of land, a world much smaller than the one I've explored.
And yet they still choose to follow me into places they’ve never dreamed of.

What incredible courage that takes.
What love.

This trip wasn’t the spiritual awakening I thought I’d have.
But it opened my heart in a deeper way.

It reminded me that:

Not every sacred place awakens your spirit.
Sometimes it awakens your humanity.
Sometimes it awakens your gratitude.
Sometimes it awakens your understanding of where you came from.

And in that sense, maybe I received exactly what Tikal wanted to give me.

My heart is full.
Thank you for reading my reflection for this month.
Thank you for being on this journey with me — through seasons of discovery, release, and everything in between.

Wherever you are reading this from,
I hope you, too, find a moment to hold the people you love a little closer —
even if your relationships don’t look like anyone else’s.
Especially then.

Looking Ahead: Closing the Year Together

After a month of witnessing myself in new environments, across cultures, and noticing where I still hold on and where I finally let go…
I feel an inner clarity rising again.

December always brings this quiet invitation:
to complete what needs completing, release what no longer fits, and step into the new year with intention instead of momentum.

So on December 21st, I’m hosting a special 2-hour Grounding Room — a ritual space to slow down, land in your body, reflect on the year you’ve lived, and consciously choose the one you’re stepping into.

Whether you’ve been in survival mode, transformation mode, or a little bit of both, this is your space to exhale.

We’ll gather online from anywhere in the world, and together we will:

• Close out 2025 with celebration and appreciation

• Identify what energies, patterns, or stories we’re leaving behind

• Reconnect with the parts of ourselves that got lost along the way

• Create a clear, grounded intention for 2026

• And most importantly — return home to ourselves before the new year begins

If you’ve been craving a pause…
If your heart feels scattered…
If you want to enter 2026 with alignment rather than pressure —
I would love to have you there.

Let’s complete this year with presence and begin the next one with grounded harmony.

With love,
Shanshan

P.S. A question for your journal:
“Where do I notice the different versions of myself appear — and what would it look like to bring them closer together gently? ”