"I must feel the fragrance of the sky,
the earth, and the wind. Only then can my heart become kind."
Six years have already passed since I first opened these doors.
I set aside a long career in human resource development to open what most would simply call a restaurant.
In truth, it might be more accurate to say I hoped to bridge two worlds. I imagined a life where I could host guests at a tuna atelier while still finding time to lecture—a leisurely, dual existence.
Now, I realize how bold that ambition was.
I had envisioned a life where I could dip my toes into both cold and warm waters, shifting between them as the temperature suited me.
But the world is rarely so accommodating. Eventually, I committed myself entirely to this craft.
And that devotion has brought me to where I am today.
The verses of "The Road Not Taken" often echo in my mind.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood.
I looked down one, thinking I might return to it another day.
I told myself that far in the future, I would recount the choice.
That there was once a road, and I had something to say of it.
Yet, that is the nature of life.
We make our choices, we carry the weight of them,
and we occasionally look back at the paths left behind with a soft sense of longing.
The life I did not fully choose to keep.
There was a second act where I lived as a mentor and a teacher. As I established my place as the heart of Goldtuna, I felt the sharp edges of those old skills begin to soften and fade.
But then I wonder...
Does being a teacher only exist within a lecture hall?
Is it not simply about discerning what is right and acting upon it?
It is not about seeking recognition, but about finding a way to shine from within.
A tuna chef who practices the humanities.
That is how I introduce myself.
I always make sure to carry a playful smile when I say it.
Usually, the person before me lets the phrase slide past, not taking it too seriously.
I find I enjoy that—letting the meaning drift through the air, understood yet unsaid.
As an owner rooted in the humanities,
I must remain sensitive to the changes of the world.
I observe the great currents, reflect upon them, and focus on what I can contribute.
I must read the emotions of others and connect with their light.
And in doing so, let us all grow together.
I must feel the fragrance of the sky, the earth, and the wind.
Only then can my heart remain kind.
I must work with quiet dedication.
By building stability and fulfilling my duties to society, I remain honest.
Without substance, philosophy can easily become hypocrisy.
I must write often.
Through writing, I align my life and provide a clear witness to my journey.
I must focus on the work that yields true results in life.
It is the things that are important but not urgent that bring true richness.
To me, that means self-development, health, family, and the art of sincere hospitality.
Even sharing these reflections is a vital, non-urgent task.
These small acts are what cultivate a meaningful life.
I must refine my speech.
They say that words are the shape of the heart.
I will think for three seconds and speak slowly, with warmth.
It is Monday, the final day of the holiday season.
In this quiet moment between guests, I take a breath to reflect.
Just like this.
Sharing stories of how we live through simple thoughts.
This is how I nurture my soul.
In my own way, I call this the humanities.
Some might wonder how these humble words qualify as such, but if they bring peace to my spirit, that is all that matters.
A guest in the private room has asked for the cake they left in our care.
Since I am heading that way, I think I will create a small celebration for them.
It seems a lovely young lady is celebrating her boyfriend’s birthday.
I shall make a joyful fuss over them and perhaps even be treated to a slice.
I imagine the cake will be very sweet.
And off I go.
This year, I intend to prepare handmade tokens of wellness to share with you.