Crown Shyness: Space to Let the Light Through

Have you ever looked up at a canopy of trees and noticed how their crowns stop just short of touching each other? It’s called crown shyness, and it’s one of those things that makes you stop and think, “Wow, maybe trees have boundaries figured out better than we do.”

The first time I noticed this was years ago, hiking in Canada. There I was, standing under towering pines, marveling at how they seemed to respect an unspoken rule: leave room for others to grow. Meanwhile, I was swatting mosquitoes and questioning my life choices. But that image of the trees stuck with me.

Recently, I saw it again during a two-week remote working trip. I started in the easternmost part of Java, went glamping and visited a national park surrounded by forests alive with the same crown-shy energy. From there, I went to Magelang, staying in a hotel nestled among paddy fields. It was one of those trips where the distance—both physical and mental—gives you space to think.

And here’s what I realized: maybe I’ve been practicing my own version of crown shyness. I’m big on boundaries—possibly too big. If you’re looking for me after work hours or on weekends, you’ll probably get a “sorry, can’t” text. It’s not that I don’t care; it’s that I need that space to recharge and let my thoughts settle.

At work, I’ve started noticing how this plays out too. Building Lunash with my co-founders has been a lesson in respecting boundaries while staying connected. Mando jokes that I’m the hammer, while he’s the velvet gloves—softening things when I come in too hot. Indra balances us both out with his level-headedness. It’s a dynamic that works because we’ve learned to give each other space to thrive.

Even in personal relationships, crown shyness feels relevant. It’s not about being distant—it’s about making the moments we do connect more meaningful. People who really know me understand that I’ll always show up when it matters, even if I’m not constantly there.

And the trees? They don’t overthink it. They don’t triple-book themselves. They just grow, leaving space for light and air to flow through.

Crown shyness isn’t some grand life lesson—it’s just something I’ve noticed and admired. If trees can figure out how to grow together without crowding each other, maybe we can too.