More Than Just Honey (And I’m Just Getting Started)

I could’ve written about skincare. Or travel.
Or that one time I got semi-lost in a rainforest and emerged with three leech bites and a lifelong obsession with tree bark.

But no.
I chose honey.

Sticky, unpredictable, and deeply misunderstood honey.
The kind that smells a little weird, tastes like forest heartbreak, and somehow makes grown women cry at my table.

It started innocently enough — one curious taste. Then another.
Next thing I knew, I was spiraling into phrases like
“burnt caramel with a medicinal edge”
and
“this one tastes like an herbalist’s love letter.”

That’s how you know you’ve gone too far.
Or just far enough.

People ask why I do this — sit in softly lit rooms with tiny jars,
swishing wild nectar like it’s wine.
They ask what I’m looking for.

And here’s the thing:
It’s not just flavor.
It’s what the flavor unlocks.

Sometimes it’s memory.
Sometimes it’s grief.
Sometimes it’s just a really good reason to stay quiet for a while
and sip something ancient.

This blog isn’t here to convince you honey is cool
(although… it very much is).

It’s here because I needed a space to pour all the in-betweens —
the things I taste but can’t quite say out loud in workshops.
Like how kelulut reminds me of my grandmother’s sarong left in the rain.
Or how I once watched a woman hold Tualang to her chest like a prayer and whisper:

“I don’t know why this makes me want to cry… but it does.”

I didn’t ask her why.
I didn’t need to.

Sometimes honey just finds the thing you’ve tucked away —
the heartbreak, the hug, the hush.
And when it does?
You let go.

Weird things happen around honey.
Soft things.
Quiet things.
Beautiful, sticky things.

So yes. I’m writing about honey.
And if I accidentally write about love, loneliness, softness, rage,
or what it means to feel safe again —
well.

Blame the bees.

🐝

Still tasting, still listening.
— Nirwana

I don’t know how often I’ll write here. But when I do, I promise it’ll be sticky, a little strange, and hopefully—something that lingers.
Come back for more spoons soon.