Today, instead of my usual market insights, I want to share something more personal. When I first arrived in Canada, I was overwhelmed with uncertainty. I had countless worries, but deep down, I told myself that one day, when I looked back, they wouldn’t seem so big after all. This piece is a reflection of that time—perhaps a letter to my past self, or to anyone who might be navigating similar thoughts. If you’re facing your own challenges, I hope these words bring you a sense of reassurance.
Do not be ashamed, you who hold the whole world.
But even if you are, it’s okay—for you will learn to face your shame.
Looking back, you never could bear writing letters to yourself. Even when pushed to write a time capsule letter like the other kids, you struggled. And when you finally forced yourself to do it, you distanced yourself—always addressing yourself as “you” rather than “I.” Even now, you might scoff at these words, calling them arrogant.
But arrogance was always yours to claim. Like a peacock flaunting its feathers, you covered yourself in pride, but inside, you were just a boy—burdened with embarrassment, hiding from his own shortcomings. A student who ran away to Canada, forever haunted by the thought: Am I just escaping?
Deep down, you envied those who could laugh easily, who could speak without hesitation. They seemed to have something you lacked. Their confidence, their effortless presence—it felt impossibly distant from where you stood.
Do not be afraid of feeling ashamed. The days ahead will teach you to embrace it. When acknowledged, shame becomes the soil for growth. But do not force yourself to mimic those you envy. True growth does not come from imitation; it comes when you ripen within, like a grain of rice bending under its own weight. No two grains of rice are the same.
Do not rush, you who hold the whole world.
But even if you do, it’s okay—for you will learn to tame your impatience.
You might remember something a teacher once told you:
“The best days are the ones you have yet to live.” —Nazim Hikmet, On Living
Impatience breeds fear, and fear breeds anxiety. And when you live in anxiety, you will never truly arrive at your best days. You must let go of your impatience. Right now, you might want to argue with me. What will really change in five years? Why do you speak so condescendingly, as if you’ve already found all the answers?
But before you lash out, listen. Even if you never live in Seoul, even if you don’t get ahead of others, even if you don’t pass that exam—your worst fears will not come true. What consumes you is not competition, but the worries that arise from impatience. It is the fear of being left behind. But the only person you need to surpass is the one you were yesterday.
The days you will spend in Canada are not a marathon. They are a game of surfing. There will be days when the waves lift you so high that you feel like you’re touching the sky. In that moment, you will think the ride will never end. But the ocean has still days, too—days when the waves disappear, and all you can do is wait on the shore. Do not mourn those days of stillness. You cannot control the sea. Instead, when the waves are quiet, take a look around. Ground yourself. Remind yourself where you stand.
Do not be greedy, you who hold the whole world.
But even if you are, it’s okay—for you will learn to let go.
You have not lost the intelligence you once had. It is simply that the weight of having to be good at everything has blinded you. But life is full of fleeting, quiet beauty. If you focus only on your ambitions, you will miss the sunsets in Oido, the city lights of Yeouido, the small wonders scattered throughout your days.
Greed is like a handful of stones. The more you pick up, the heavier they become, until you find yourself unable to move forward. When that happens, go to your quiet riverbank and skip stones across the water. The harder you throw, the further they will fly. And as you watch them bounce and disappear into the depths, remember this: the stones you cling to were always meant to leave your hands.
Do not believe the lie that greed is the engine of progress. The world moves too fast; whatever you desire today will become obsolete tomorrow. Instead of grasping for more, channel your ambition into making each day meaningful. Build yourself with patience, layer by layer. Just like the stone walls of Jeju, which stand strong against the harshest winds, a self built from small, steady days can withstand even the fiercest storms.
Do not hate, you who hold the whole world.
But even if you do, it’s okay—for you will learn to love.
At the end of all this, I must admit: I still don’t know how to be truly grateful. Even after five years, I haven’t fully figured it out. But I do know this—you will learn to love on the path toward gratitude. And on that path, may you love with all your strength.
Above all, love yourself. Love the parts of you that shine, and love the parts of you that hide in the shadows. They are both you, and they both deserve to be embraced. If you only count what you lack, you will never realize what you have.
“Whoever has will be given more, and they will have abundance. Whoever does not have, even what they have will be taken from them.” —Matthew 13:12
And lastly, love even your regrets.
Regret is what makes room for something new.
This piece is not just a letter to my past self—it’s a reminder to anyone standing at the edge of uncertainty, wondering if they’re doing things right. When I first moved to Canada, I had more fears than I could count. But now, looking back, I realize most of them never materialized.
If you ever find yourself questioning whether you’re on the right path, know that it’s okay to take your time. Growth happens in waves, not in a straight line. And in the end, the worries that consume you today might just be stories you look back on with a smile.