I decided to take a short impromptu trip to Malaysia, a neighbor to Thailand.

The more time I spend in Asia, the more I become drawn into its culture. With only a few days here, I knew I wanted to honor the culture in a meaningful way. So I decided to visit Thean Hou Temple—which ended up becoming an experience I’ll never forget.

Walking up to the temple, the Chinese influence was clear. Life-sized statues of the Chinese zodiac lined the sides of the building, each one holding space in silent reverence. As I climbed the stairs, I felt the energy shift—light, crisp, and clean. The air was different. The energy was pure.

I watched others light incense, bowing in silence and drawing fortunes. When it was my turn, I wanted to do it with respect. As I lit my incense, I whispered, “I just want to introduce myself and say thank you for what you’ve done for your people.” I didn’t know the goddess then—not by name—so I didn’t ask for anything. Just presence. Just gratitude.

Then came the fortune. I held the sticks and asked clearly, “What is my path, my purpose? And how do I step into it?” I dropped them several times until one finally fell out: No. 23.

That number already held weight for me—it was the age I was diagnosed with a cancer. A turning point in my life. A part of me died at 23, and I’ve been becoming someone new ever since.

The paper read:

Lost at sea.

Drifting about, not knowing what to do. It is too early to expect results at this juncture. The best recourse is to bide time and await the opportunity.

That message hit me hard. I’ve been feeling this ache to step fully into who I am meant to be—but haven’t quite arrived. I’ve done the work. I’ve waited. And still, I’ve wondered: Why not yet?

The goddess had answered. Not “no.” Just… not yet.

With tears welling, I stepped into the temple. Three deities sat in a row. I walked past each, offering my respects. But when I reached the goddess in the center, Guanyin—the Goddess of Mercy—I saw something I couldn’t explain: she was smiling. At me.

She knew me.

She had answered.

And in that moment, I knew I wasn’t lost at all.

I left that temple lighter than I entered. Not because my questions were answered in full, but because I was seen—truly seen. That smile from Guanyin reminded me that even when the path isn’t clear, I’m still walking it. Every step, every tear, every delay is not a denial, just divine timing unfolding.

I don’t have all the answers yet—but I no longer feel lost at sea.

I’m being carried.

And for now, that is enough.