I didn’t expect to feel jung (정: a Korean word describing a warm, caring connection or bond between people, or a sense of emotional closeness, often hard to capture in English) in an American conference room.
But there I was, in a zoom meeting with my team, saying goodbye to colleagues who were leaving us and something felt deeply familiar.
I am a translator. My career began in Korea, where I worked on a translation team that shaped who I am professionally. Those years felt almost unreal. We worked hard, but we also gathered for birthdays in the conference room. We ate lunch together every day. We shared stress, deadlines, and laughter. I was doing work I loved, surrounded by people who cared, it was not just about performance, but about each other.
At the time, I never imagined I would one day move to the United States.
Life unfolded differently. I came to America, finished my studies, and found a job. I entered the workforce again, this time in a completely different language and culture. It wasn’t easy. The workplace atmosphere felt unfamiliar. Compared to Korea, things seemed more individual, more reserved. I often wondered if I would ever feel fully comfortable.
Today, I am a fifth-year in-house translator. It has been nearly 19 years since I first arrived in the U.S. Somewhere along the way, discomfort became experience. Experience became confidence. Without realizing it, I built a career here.
Recently, three colleagues transitioned to new jobs, and two had to leave the company. For the first time, our team came together so each person could share a few words. It wasn’t mandatory. It wasn’t dramatic. Just simple, sincere appreciation
And that was when it happened.
I felt jung.
In Korea, jung is that quiet bond built through time, shared meals, shared stress, shared effort. I had always associated that feeling with my early career in Seoul. I thought it belonged to that chapter of my life.
But in that American office, I felt something similar. Not identical—but close. Maybe here it shows up as respect or gratitude. It was wishing someone well and truly meaning it. The expressions may vary by culture, but the underlying human value remains universal.
That moment brought me back to my younger self in Korea. The new employee who worked hard, learned everything she could, and simply wanted to grow.
And I realized something that took me almost 20 years to understand:
Whether in Korea or the United States, whether in corporate or government work, what we pursue is essentially the same. We want to learn. We want to improve. We want to contribute. We want our effort to matter.
Growth is global.
It sounds obvious when I write it. Almost too simple. But when you experience it—when you actually feel it first hand, it becomes something else. It becomes grounding.
For years, I was focused on adapting. Proving myself. Surviving cultural differences. Building credibility in another language. I thought I had to start all over in America.
But I wasn’t starting over.
I was living the same values in a different cultural setting.
Maybe that’s what “full circle” means for me. Full circle is not going back to the beginning. It’s recognizing that the beginning never really left you.
The sincerity. The hunger to learn. The discipline.
Now, nearly 20 years into life in the United States, I see it clearly. The core of being a working professional is the same everywhere. We work. We struggle. We grow. We move forward.
On challenging days, when work feels heavy or stressful, I remind myself: I’m part of something bigger. A company can feel narrow and confining, like a well that limits my view. Yet it can also open into a world of possibilities far beyond the walls I see.
