I never expected to feel Jeong (정) in an American conference room.
Jeong is a cultural concept in Korea that embodies deep emotional bonds, empathy, and a sense of community and interconnectedness.
Yet there I was, sitting in a Zoom meeting with my team, saying goodbye to colleagues when a familiar warmth washed over me. In that moment, I recognized a feeling I had not expected to find so far from my homeland.
Where My Journey Began
I am an in-house translator, and my professional journey
began nearly two decades ago in Korea. I joined a translation company and became
a member of a team that would fundamentally shape who I became, both as a
professional and as a person.
Looking back, those early years felt almost legendary. We
worked tirelessly to meet tight deadlines, but our days were about more than
the work itself. We celebrated birthdays in the conference room, shared meals
every day, and talked and supported one another through the pressure. We worked
hard, learned together, and found ways to make even the busiest days feel
meaningful.
It wasn't just about productivity or performance. It was
about the people beside us.
At the time, I never imagined that I would one day cross an
ocean and build a life somewhere else. But life unfolded in ways I could not
have predicted. I moved to the United States, completed my graduate studies,
and entered the workforce in a completely different linguistic and cultural
environment.
The transition wasn't easy. Compared with the workplace
culture I had known back in Korea, the American workplace often felt more
individualistic and reserved. I found myself navigating unfamiliar social cues
and professional expectations while trying to establish my credibility in a
second language.
Sometimes, I wondered whether I would ever feel fully at home. But time has a way of changing us.
This is my nineteenth year in the United States, including five years in my current role. Discomfort gradually gave way to experience, and experience grew into quiet confidence. Little by little, I learned to navigate a new professional culture, trust my abilities, and find my place within it.
Without fully realizing it, I had built a meaningful career,
a life and close friends here.
Finding Jeong in an Unexpected Place
Recently, our team gathered on Zoom to say farewell to
several colleagues transitioning to new opportunities. Attendance wasn't
mandatory. There was no elaborate ceremony or grand display of emotion. There
were simply sincere words of appreciation, expressions of gratitude, and wishes
for one another's future.
And in that quiet moment, I felt something familiar. Jeong.
For years, I had associated this feeling almost exclusively with my life in Seoul. I thought it belonged to a particular time and place, woven into the shared meals, birthday celebrations, long conversations, and small everyday gestures through which people gradually grow close. It was the quiet warmth that comes from knowing one another, looking out for each other, and sharing the ordinary moments of life until, almost without realizing it, you begin to feel that you belong.
I had never considered that I might experience the same feeling again in a different country, within a different workplace culture. But there it was.
The way people express connection may differ across
cultures. It might emerge through shared meals and everyday
togetherness in some way. In another, it might appear through mutual respect, sincere
appreciation, or a heartfelt wish for a colleague's success.
The expressions may be different, but the human connection
underneath them is remarkably familiar.
As I sat in that virtual meeting, I was transported back to
my younger self in Korea: the eager new employee who worked hard, absorbed
everything she could, and wanted nothing more than to learn and grow.
I realized that nearly twenty years had passed before I
fully understood something so simple: whether in Korea or the United States,
whether in a corporate office or a government workplace, the things we seek
from our work are fundamentally the same.
We want to learn. We want to contribute. And we want to know
that what we do matters.
The Universal Philosophy
This realization reminded me of a statement by an executive
at Kyocera Group North America about the principles that guide business across
cultures.
His message was that although customs and cultural practices
vary from one nation to another, the underlying philosophy of life and work
remains remarkably consistent. Striving for excellence in one's craft and
seeking to benefit society are universal values, shared across cultures and
generations. When standards are rooted in fundamental human ethics, an understanding of what is right and good they become a true reflection of shared values.
What I had experienced during that farewell meeting was this universal philosophy in action. Beyond language barriers, culture, administrative frameworks, and organizational structures, the desire to care, excel, and contribute connects us.
We may approach our work differently. We may communicate
differently, express appreciation differently, or define workplace
relationships in different ways. Yet beneath those differences lies a shared
aspiration: to do our work well and to make a positive difference. I believe we
are on this earth for a reason. Our existence has a reason and meaning.
I Wasn't Starting Over
For years, much of my energy went toward adapting. I focused
on proving myself, understanding cultural nuances, and building professional
credibility in another language. I often thought of my move to America as a
new start, as though everything I had learned and experienced in Korea had to
be rebuilt from the ground up.
In many ways, I was so busy learning how to belong in a new
environment that I overlooked what I had brought with me. But I wasn't starting
over.
I was carrying the same values into a different setting: the
desire to learn, the discipline to do my work well, the willingness to grow,
and the belief that our efforts should serve a purpose beyond ourselves.
Those values had not changed simply because my surroundings
had. Perhaps that is what coming full circle truly means. It isn't necessarily
returning to where you began. It is recognizing that the foundation you started
with has remained with you all along.
The person I was in Korea and the person I have become in
America are not two separate versions of myself. They are connected by the same
underlying values, shaped by different experiences but guided by the same
desire to learn, contribute, and grow.
And perhaps finding home is not always about finding a place
that feels exactly like the one you left. Sometimes, it is discovering that the
things that made you feel at home in the first place can exist in places you
never expected.
Finding Home in the Work We Do
On challenging days, when deadlines
pile up and work feels heavy, I try to remember that a workplace is also a
place where people learn from one another, recognize each other's efforts, and
create connections that give meaning to what we do.
Looking back, I can see that my
journey was never just about adapting to a new country or learning to navigate
a different workplace culture. It was also about discovering which parts of
myself remained constant through all that change.
It sounds obvious when I put it
into words, almost too simple to warrant an entire reflection. And yet, for me,
it felt like coming home.
Coming full circle did not mean
becoming entirely Americanized, nor did it mean remaining the same person I had
been in Korea. It meant understanding that finding a place to call home was
never about abandoning where I came from, but about rediscovering the reasons I
left and embracing how far I had come. Over time, the distance between my two
worlds began to fade, and I realized that I had never truly left a part of
myself behind. Instead, I had spent years growing, changing, and searching,
only to discover that the person I had been trying to find was within me all
along. Perhaps coming full circle is not about returning to who we once were,
but about finally understanding who we have always been and learning that we
can belong to more than one world without losing ourselves in either.
