Two months ago, on April 6, 2025, Master Shan-Tung Hsu passed from this world. And yet, for those who knew him—or even simply sought his guidance—he remains quietly present, offering invisible support. May his memory be a guiding light.

I stumbled into Master Hsu’s first lecture in Ukraine back in 2001, almost by accident. My qigong teacher at the time, Tamara Martynova, invited me to translate. I had already been practicing qigong for some time and, in 2000, I attended a retreat in Shaolin with Master Xu Mingtang. It was Xu who suggested that Tamara invite his friend— Shan-Tung Hsu, a feng shui master from Taiwan—to Kyiv.

The lecture was held at the Kyiv Polytechnic Institute. I interpreted from English and, I’ll admit, it wasn’t easy. Master Hsu spoke quickly, with a Taiwanese accent. I also had no real understanding of feng shui then. I was outside the world he came from.

But that day changed everything.

Meeting Dr Hsu marked a turning point in my life. The lectures, the seminars, the one-on-one consultations, the conversations over tea—all of it began to reveal the depth of his wisdom and the breadth of his personality. His presence was disarming: simple, open, sincere. And behind it, a quiet force of intellect and spirit.

At first, Tamara Martynova organized his visits. Later, Serhiy Dashkevych helped arrange seminars. Eventually, Toma Ruzhanska took over. I had met Toma in Shaolin years earlier. She later became editor-in-chief of Zefir, a Kyiv-based magazine, where we published an interview with Master Hsu.

One evening in Kyiv, after a day of lectures and meetings, Master Hsu turned to me and said, “I’d like you to take on the organizational role for our Blue Mountain Institute in Ukraine.”
It was unexpected. We talked, reflected, and eventually—I agreed.

East Meets West

I found myself captivated by the art and science of feng shui. With a background in immunology and research work at the Institute of Biochemistry, I appreciated Master Hsu’s scientific grounding. He had earned a doctorate in fiber chemistry, and in his seminars, he seamlessly bridged Eastern and Western approaches.

What I learned in those lectures, I tested in real life—and I was astonished. The principles of traditional feng shui, as taught in Master Hsu’s lineage, were not only consistent but deeply effective. Regardless of country or culture, his methods worked. Armed with a framework refined over generations in the East, one could apply it in the West—and achieve the same results.

Master Hsu helped me—and so many others—see clearly the timeless principles of Yin-Yang and Wu Xing. Concepts we’d heard about, but rarely understood in depth.

Whenever he visited Ukraine, I spent as much time with him as I could. Not only in lecture halls, but during consultations, at rest, in daily life. These were moments of teaching too—masterclasses in presence and grace.

A Mosaic of Memories

One of the most vivid memories I carry is from 2013, at what became both the first and last feng shui retreat in Europe led by Master Hsu. It was held in Crimea, the year before war came to Ukraine. In 2014, Russia would annex Crimea and attack the East.

That retreat was total immersion—in the traditional systems of feng shui and qigong. Joining us was Jenny Nakao Hones, a longtime collaborator of Dr Hsu and a gifted interior designer from the U.S. Theory met practice: there were feng shui excursions, early morning qigong and tai chi on the Black Sea shore, and evening meditations that gave space to the deeper flows of Chinese metaphysics. It was unforgettable.

I also recall our trip to Mariupol in August 2010. Thanks to the Semenchenko family—Nellia, Petro, Mykhailo, and Andrii—Master Hsu was invited to consult on a steel plant, its offices, and a new industrial site. Back then, Mariupol was still quiet, peaceful. His consultations so impressed the plant’s owners that they requested his guidance on their private homes as well.

Other memories rise—each warm, grounded in friendship and learning. Meetings with the vibrant Larysa Rozhok and her husband Alessandro. Moments shared with another wonderful couple, Iryna Khrysanfova and Eduard Pechenitsyn.

In 2009, we visited Trypillia, the museum of the Trypillian culture, and the ancient clay deposits near the village of Khalep’ya—thanks to Oleksandr Bobrov.

There were also unforgettable tea gatherings with Master Hsu at the Kyiv Tea Club, made possible by Oleksandr Barabash. Dr Hsu knew much about tea—but those gatherings became portals into broader realms: Chinese medicine, tai chi, qigong, and more.

For a long time, Master Hsu made his base in the village of Lyutizh, thanks to the Semchyshyn family—Tetiana, Yaroslav, and Olha. There, we filmed, planned seminars, and found time to simply rest.

And always, I remember the many warm, heartfelt meetings between Shan-Tung Hsu and Denys Kazakov. Denys played a vital role in bringing him to Ukraine again and again—gently encouraging me, always as a friend, to issue the next invitation.

As Denys recalls, “What I remember most was the lightness of the Master. Once, someone asked him very seriously whether he ate meat, and whether it was permissible. He smiled, that unforgettable smile, and said: ‘When there is meat, I eat meat. When there is none—I don’t.’”

These memories of Master Shan-Tung Hsu… they are many. And they are vivid, full, and alive—woven into the hearts of those who knew him. As long as hearts beat, he will remain.

May all be well for him—wherever he now journeys.