Dear Koffeemocha friends,
Today, May 20, 2025, marks the 118th anniversary of my alma mater, Tongji University. It is a moment of deep pride and reflection for all alumni who trace their roots back to that vibrant campus in Shanghai. Earlier this month, on May 11, we gathered in Liberty State Park to celebrate this milestone and the spirit that connects us across decades, disciplines, and continents. That event — Being Bold Together — reminded me how far we’ve come, and how the ties of shared origin can evolve into something far greater.
Yet koffeemocha was never just about alumni. It was never meant to be a nostalgic return, but rather, a forward-looking experiment in boldness, in connection, in becoming. That’s why I later wrote More Than Alumni: Finding My Tribe, to celebrate the expanding circle of writers, readers and friends who share a mindset — not just a memory. Whether we met in lecture halls or later in life, what bonds us isn’t the past, but a shared curiosity about what’s next.
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In my second awakening, I shared how the silence of Karnak and the stillness of ancient tombs reminded me to balance “being” and “doing” — to pause, to feel, to arrive.
Now back in New York City, where motion is constant and answers come quickly, I found myself confronted not with ancient stones, but with something equally profound: the speed at which certainty is rewarded, and ambiguity overlooked.
But what if the true boldness today lies not in knowing, but in asking?
Curiosity, I’ve come to realize, is the new currency. It’s no longer just about using tools or mastering knowledge — it’s about learning how to talk to a world that is changing faster than we can define it:
What else is here, beyond what I expected?
This question — echoing not just in Egypt’s ruins but in Manhattan’s rhythms — led me to my third awakening:
Lead with Curiosity and Openness: Beyond the Sand and Stones.
The Comfort of Known Narratives
Before the trip, I thought I had a pretty good idea of what Egypt was “about”.
The pyramids. The pharaohs. The Sphinx.
Egyptian gods portrayed with the heads of animals, each with symbolic meaning.
A few names from history books — Khufu, Ramses II, Tutankhamun.
I arrived with a sense of awe, yes —
but also with an unconscious checklist.
A mental box labeled: “Ancient Egypt: to be covered in 8 days.”
But Egypt doesn’t care about your checklist.
It forces you to go off-script.
Prof. G and the Layers of Civilization
One of the most profound insights on this trip came from Prof. G, our Egyptian guide (formerly worked as a history scholar).
With the calm patience of someone who have lived by the Nile, he didn’t just speak — he revealed. It wasn’t the words alone, but the layered stories he unfolded, each one brushing softly over the last, that led me to a deeper realization:
Egypt is not just one story. It is a palimpsest — rewritten again and again.
Palimpsest — a rare word I first encountered it years ago while studying for the GRE. Back then, it was just another unusual word to memorize. But here, standing in the land of dynasties, deserts, and dreams, it finally meant something. A palimpsest is a manuscript where old writing is scraped off and new text added — yet the original never fully disappears.
Egypt, too, is a living palimpsest: its ancient hieroglyphs, Islamic architecture, colonial echoes, and modern ambitions all coexisting, etched one over the other.
A manuscript where the original writing was scraped off, and new stories were written over it.
But faint traces of the original remain.
That’s Egypt.
From native pharaohs to Greek rulers like Alexander, from Roman governance to Arab conquest, from Islamic scholarship to colonial resistance —
Egypt is not one civilization.
It’s a continuum of human ambition, trauma, belief, and adaptation.
Openness Means Giving Up Control
What I learned is this:
Curiosity is not just about asking questions.
It’s about giving up control of the answers.
To be open means to let go of outdated frameworks — the mental templates that once served us, but now confine us. It means daring to scrape away the familiar, to make room for something fuller, deeper, more complete. That kind of openness doesn’t come from knowing all the answers — it comes from great curiosity, from the courage to ask again, to feel anew, to see differently.
In that way, being open is itself a kind of palimpsest. You don’t discard the past — you rewrite over it, building new meaning on old layers. What remains is not just knowledge, but wisdom — drawn from what you were, what you questioned, and what you chose to become.
It means letting Egypt speak — not just through its hieroglyphs and temples, but through its contradictions and complexities.
It means realizing that what we call ancient was once cutting-edge.
And what we call modern may be fragile in comparison.
Personal Reflection: My Own Rewriting
This awakening made me reflect on my own story.
How many versions of myself (in terms of career path) have I overwritten?
How many past chapters (or posts literally) have been scraped off — and yet still leave faint marks?
Like Egypt, we are layered beings.
Our lives aren’t single narratives.
They’re ongoing rewrites — full of tension, change, and rebirth.
An Invitation to You
The next time you visit a new place —
whether across the world or across the street —
Don’t just go with knowledge —
Go with curiosity.
Don’t just observe —
Open yourself.
“Wonder begins where certainty ends.”
In Closing
Egypt was never meant to be digested in 8 days.
It was meant to stir something deeper: the humility to not know, and the courage to keep asking. That’s why I kept exploring.
Stay bold. Stay open.
With curiosity,
Kefei