It’s tucked away in the mountains (yet somehow only an hour from Taipei City), and right through the center of it flows this absolutely stunning blue-green river that looks like it belongs in a fantasy novel.
You know why the water looks that color? It’s actually pretty cool: the river water is so pure and clear that when sunlight hits it, the light scatters in a way that makes the blue wavelengths reflect back to our eyes. Add in the minerals from the surrounding rocks and the way the riverbed sits just beneath the surface, and you get this almost glowing turquoise-green that shifts with the light. It’s nature showing off, basically. 💙
The first time I came here was over 25 years ago, and I thought the place was simply magical. It’s a hot spring resort with an outdoor onsen right next to the river—natural hot springs where you can soak while watching the water flow by. The 20-year-old me thought this was straight out of a dream.
This is my fourth time back over the last 25 years. And each time I’ve returned, I’ve been in a slightly different phase of life. Naturally.
In my 20s, I was fearless and enthusiastic—but I hadn’t even figured out my own identity yet. I was still becoming.
In my 30s, I was a bit confused by the signals of the world. Unsure whether to proceed with kindness or trepidation. I’d had just enough challenges and hardships to make me ask some really hard questions. I was figuring myself out.
The third time, I had just become a mother. The new role had thrown me into entirely new terrain. I was trying to find my ground again—balancing this developing career with this all-consuming love and responsibility. The duality of those roles made balance… tricky.
This time? My whole family was in tow. It was hard to find moments of quietness and stillness.
But I breathed.
Boy, did I breathe and take in this magical place where time seemed to have stood still. Nothing seemed to have changed in 25 years.
Things Change. And They Don’t.
You see, I’ve felt differently in different periods of my life. But standing by that river this time, I realized something:
I’ve come full circle. I’m coming home to myself.
The journey has always been about answering the call to our true self.
We spend so much of our time trying to be someone the world needs us to be. We twist ourselves into shapes that fit other people’s expectations. We second-guess our instincts. We quiet the whisper that says, “This is who you really are.”
And then, finally, when we just get still and listen…
The most authentic version of ourselves is the only one we need. And it’s the best version the universe needs us to be.
The Whisper
In my meditations these days, I’ve been revisiting my younger self. I’ve been tapping into my future self, too.
And the whisper is always the same:
“You are on your way. The journey is unfolding exactly as it’s meant to. You might not know or see the next chapter yet—but right now, there is more clarity than there’s ever been.”
That river in Wulai? It’s been flowing for thousands of years. It hasn’t changed. But I have.
And somehow, standing next to it again, I felt both how far I’ve come and how much I’m still becoming.
Two Words for 2026
At the start of each year, I anchor myself to two words. Words that guide me. Words I come back to when I feel scattered or uncertain.
This year, my words are: TRUST and EXPANSION.
Trust that I’m exactly where I need to be.
Trust that the next chapter will reveal itself when it’s time.
Trust that the clarity I feel right now is real—and that I can move forward from it.
And expansion.
Expansion in how I show up. In what I’m willing to receive. In letting go of doubts and scarcity and just… opening my hands.
Releasing the grip. Making space.
Trusting and expanding.
What Are Your Words?
I’m curious: do you do this too? Do you have words or intentions that anchor your year?
If you don’t yet, I invite you to sit with it. Ask yourself:
What do I want to call in this year?
What do I want to release?
What does my truest self need from me right now?
You don’t have to have it all figured out. (I certainly don’t.)
But there’s something powerful about naming it. About giving yourself permission to move toward it.
As I look ahead to this year—at the new IPWC location, at the work we’re building together, at the community we’re growing—I’m releasing doubts. I’m releasing scarcity. I’m choosing to trust. And I’m choosing to receive.
Happy New Year, friend.
I’m so grateful to step into this new year with you. 💙🦄
With so much warmth and gratitude,
💕 Dr. Lily
P.S. If you have your own words or intentions for 2026, I’d love to hear them. Email us at info@integrativepet.com and tell us. We read every single one. 💚