Inspiration

Around 1999, I was initiated into a beautiful meditation practice called Sahaj Samadhi. Not long after, this story arrived in a dream, like a gift. The prior summer, I had taken a trek through the Himalayas—a journey that left an imprint on me: the terraced hillsides, the gentle rhythm of village life, the wildflowers (and leeches!) brushing our path, and the mountains’ visceral power. I didn’t realize it then, but the dream felt as though the Himalayas had followed me home.

I woke with almost the entire tale, except for the ending. About a week later, after meditating and asking for clarity, the ending revealed itself just as gracefully as the rest: a big blue box beneath the Christmas tree labeled “To God.” When the characters opened it, out poured the letters L-O-V-E—the key to the world, and the true message of the story.

I sent the manuscript to a few publishers, but no one bit, and life moved on.

It’s worth noting that at the time—and even now—I was deeply immersed in studying and teaching Eastern philosophy and meditation, so it surprised me to see my Christian roots surface so vividly in the dream. Over time, I came to see it as a reminder of how beautifully different traditions can complement each other. In the book, Sasha gathers wisdom from Eastern teachings of stillness and meditation, yet she also honors and celebrates Christmas, the tradition in which she is raised.

I also think it’s important for children to understand why we open presents at Christmas—where that spirit of giving comes from, and how love is the truest gift of all.

Twenty years later, I met Martin in 2019, when he generously donated a children’s art workshop to the Asian Pacific Gala. Jon and I happened to win it at the auction and brought Sasha and her friend to meet him.

From the moment we stepped into his studio, I was enchanted—by Martin himself and by the powerful magic woven through his artwork. One painting in particular caught my eye: a portrait of a young woman who reminded me so much of my daughter, Samantha Mai Lee—whose name means “plum blossom.” When I read the title, I was surprised to see it was “Plum Blossom Wish.”

The plum blossom is the only tree that blooms in winter—a symbol of beauty and hope in the coldest season. Samantha was born soon after my father passed away, on the darkest night of the year, bringing light into one of the hardest moments of my life. When I saw that painting, it felt like a quiet whisper from the universe.

Something about the entire day felt fated.

At the end of the workshop, I told Martin how much it would mean to me if he would help bring my twenty-year-old dusty story to life. And he—thankfully and graciously—said yes.

Six years later, we published Christmas in the Himalayas—with more synchronicities and moments of grace guiding us along the way.

My vision for this book is to bring more love and beauty into the world.

I hope you and your cherished ones will enjoy this keepsake.

Plum Blossom Wish by Martin Hsu