Walking at My Own Pace

Walking at My Own Pace

Back when I lived in Korea, I attended a highly competitive high school. Perhaps that’s why I don’t have many fond memories of those years.

Teachers often made it seem as if not getting into a prestigious university meant your life would be ruined. Even Bible verses and hymns were quoted as motivational tools for better grades. The ultimate goal was to study hard and get into a top university. I left for school while stars still hung in the morning sky, and returned home late at night under a sky full of stars. But are those students who made it into those top schools truly living happily now? I, too, was accepted into what many would call a prestigious university.

Yet it was not a place for art or creative expression. Becoming the artist I am today—someone who can freely paint what she wants every day—took years of painful struggle. That’s why I understand deeply just how agonizing it is to live a life not aligned with what you truly love. Maybe that’s why I tell my children, “Become who you want to be.” I’ve come to believe that this message can actually be a powerful motivator.

We all make mistakes. In moments of weakness, we may try to live according to others’ standards as if they were commandments carved in stone. Some people even see love, generosity, and kindness as a waste of time. Of course, achieving goals and staying ahead can be fulfilling. But everything must happen naturally. Sometimes, I see people trying to skip the entire process to get ahead in a single leap. I admit, I too sometimes feel the urge to suddenly be recognized—to become a master overnight.

But painting always brings me back. It reminds me how empty that desire really is. Because I know the true joy lies in the process itself. Can an artist who becomes famous overnight without the journey ever truly experience that joy? Struggling with a brushstroke that just won’t work, and then finally discovering a solution—that brings deep satisfaction.

And most of the time, breakthroughs don’t come from technical knowledge, but from when the heart finally opens. It feels like a revelation, like the clouds parting, like an inner light turning on. It’s a joy unlike any other.

Today I painted a flower in watercolor, a bold red bloom. In the past, capturing the dynamic beauty of flowers was very difficult for me. I had seen so many brilliant works by other artists that I became rigid, caught in the lines, burdened by unreachable standards. I spent days questioning myself—why can’t I do that? But then one day, I said to myself, “Just be me. Let the flower grow on the paper. Let the watercolor do its work.”

And something changed. My brush became stronger, and a joyful energy began to flow like dance. It felt like rainwater shimmering on a road after a storm—quiet, reflective, alive. That day, I experienced true freedom.

​I knew in that moment I had crossed a threshold I had long wanted to overcome. Isn’t life like that, too? Instead of staying trapped in rigid lines, we can take one step forward even if we’re uncertain. Instead of trusting our own stubborn thoughts and fears, we can trust the natural rhythm of the world. Let it flow, like a fisherman calmly waiting for the right moment. That’s what painting has taught me. That’s what life has taught me.

True growth doesn’t come from rushing ahead—it comes from embracing your own rhythm, your own journey, and the joy of the process. A reflection on life, art, and the quiet strength of moving authentically.