When my father died, my mother began paying attention to her own health. She knew more about the human body than most people. She earned her PhD in Food Science from MIT, worked as a research chemist for the U.S. military and the Korean Food and Drug Administration, before she retired at sixty, and went to seminary.

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She had all the training one could ask for. And yet even she found herself lost in the same fog that surrounds the rest of us.

 

Every expert seemed to contradict the last. Every study appeared to overturn the one before it. The deeper she looked, the less solid the ground became. If someone with her training could not find a clear path, what hope did the rest of us have?

 

What troubled me most was not simply that people disagreed about what was healthy. It was that even when the research told us what worked, it rarely explained why.

Why do relationships shape the body so profoundly?
Why does time in nature heal us?
Why does spiritual practice keep appearing in the data as protective?

 

I went looking for something I assumed must already exist: not another diet, protocol, or productivity system, but a deeper framework for health. A logic beneath the noise.

Alongside my work as an investor at Amasia, I began graduate studies in Applied Biomedical Engineering at Johns Hopkins.I started speaking with scientists, doctors,

founders, and thinkers across disciplines. I was searching for a thread.

 

I finally found one when I met C.K. Peng.

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Peng arrived at Harvard Medical School as a physicist, looking for a universal framework for health. He began applying complexity theory to the rhythms of the human heart and helped open a new field of science. Today, a simplified version of that insight sits on hundreds of millions of wrists around the world. Heart rate variability, which powers nearly every major consumer wellness device, is essentially a window into the body’s complexity.

 

But what I found was larger than a biometric.

 

I had been looking for a way to understand health. Instead, I found a way to understand my life.

 

The feeling of transcendence I had known in spiritual moments. The flow I felt when I lost myself playing music with my band. The quiet restoration that came from nature. The ache of disconnection. The deep human need to belong.

All of it began to make sense through the same lens.

 

Complex systems echo themselves across different scales. Scientists call these patterns fractals. Cells become organs through connection; organs become a living body through connection. And human beings, too, become fully alive through connection: with each other, with nature, and with the cosmos.

 

Health is not merely the absence of disease. It is the presence of right relationship. 

It is the body’s ability to communicate with itself.
It is the person’s ability to belong with others.
It is the soul’s ability to find its place in something larger.

 

This is the conviction beneath my work: in how I invest at Amasia, in my explorations at Johns Hopkins, and in the book I am writing.

 

Healthy, happy humans are built through connection — across the body, belonging, and beyond.