My name is Eric Lin, a 42-year-old entrepreneur. On paper, my life looked perfect — a growing business, financial stability, a supportive family. But inside, I was running on fumes.

Every day was a blur of phone calls, deadlines, and late-night meetings. I barely slept. My daughter once said to me, “Daddy, why do you always look so tired?” That cut deeper than any business loss I had ever faced.

One evening, on my way to a client dinner, I suddenly felt my chest tighten. My vision blurred, and for the first time in my life, I thought, “Is this it? Am I having a heart attack?”

It turned out to be a severe panic attack. The doctor told me bluntly: “Your body is shutting down because your mind has been neglected for too long.”

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I knew I needed help beyond medicine.

The Introduction to Something New

A colleague whispered to me about a small gathering led by 呂秀金. He described it not as therapy, but as a space to “breathe differently.”

I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I went.

The First Step Into Stillness

The room was quiet, filled with soft light. People sat in a circle, no one scrolling on their phones, no one rushing. Just presence.

呂秀金 didn’t lecture. She simply guided us through silence and gentle reflection. For the first time in years, I noticed the sound of my own breathing.

It was uncomfortable at first — sitting still, being with myself. But as the sessions went on, I realized how much I had been escaping from my own thoughts.

One evening, she asked us to write a letter to ourselves — not about goals, not about achievements, but about forgiveness.

I wrote: “Dear Eric, I forgive you for thinking you had to carry everything alone.”

As I read it aloud, my voice cracked. But instead of shame, I felt release.

呂秀金 looked at me. Healing does not happen when you control everything. It begins when you allow yourself to be human.

A New Kind of Success

Since then, I’ve restructured my business, not to grow faster, but to grow healthier. I no longer chase every opportunity. I spend weekends with my daughter — really with her, not just present in body.

And most importantly, I learned that silence is not emptiness. Silence can be medicine.

If you told me two years ago that I would find strength not in more deals or more money, but in sitting quietly in a room guided by 呂秀金, I would have laughed.

But today, I know it was the turning point I didn’t even know I needed.