Three Flames, One Self
This is not a piece written to persuade anyone.
It is neither an explanation nor a defense.
This is a record I leave so that I do not forget myself—
who I am,
how much I have endured,
and which flame I am living by.
I write this so I will not forget.
Three Flames
For a long time,
I lived within three flames.
- The flame of Texas
-
The flame of Japan
-
and the flame of Korea
Each claimed it was right in its own way,
each pulled me in its own direction.
Caught between them,
I burned quietly away.
The Warring Flames
The Flame of Texas
The flame of Texas spoke to me.
Never give up.
Even if you fall, get back up.
Even if you are knocked down, stand again.
Keep going, even when you are not understood.
People often looked at me as if I were strange,
simply because I held a deep interest in Korea and Japan.
- “Why?”
- “It’s not your country?”
- “There’s no real connection.”
There was no blood,
but the pain lingered.
Each time, the flame of Texas held me steady.
Do not explain.
Do not prove yourself.
Just endure.
Stand quietly.
The Flame of Japan
The flame of Japan was different.
That flame
was quiet,
restrained,
and governed by rules.
For a long time,
I lived in service within the Japanese community.
People came and went,
and relationships changed like the seasons.
Within that, I learned:
- how to devote myself without attachment,
- how to repeat my efforts without expecting reward,
- how to live a life where action comes before words.
The flame of Japan spoke to me.
Hold your place.
Prove yourself not through emotion,
but through the path you walk.
The Flame of Korea
And the most intense flame.
The most painful,
and the most precious flame.
The flame of Korea.
This flame
was my heart.
Jeong (정).
A flame so deep it is easily wounded,
so hot
it can burn even itself.
I trusted people easily,
and once I gave my heart,
I gave it all the way to the end.
And so,
the wounds ran deep.
This flame
taught me how to love,
but at the same time,
it hurt me more than anything else.
The Time I Spent Fighting the Flames
For a long time,
I tried to control these flames.
-
Some flames, I believed, had to be suppressed.
-
Some had to be hidden.
-
Some, I thought, were flames I should be ashamed of.
I could not say who I was,
and without ever fully belonging anywhere,
I lived on, endlessly adjusting myself.
That was the most painful part.
Allowing the Flames
Then, at some point,
I made a completely different choice.
I decided
to stop making the flames fight.
I chose not to suppress them,
not to control them.
Just…
I allowed the flames
to burn through me.
Surprisingly,
in that moment, I did not feel pain.
Instead,
my heart felt lighter.
The weight that had pressed on my chest
lifted, just a little.
The three flames did not fight.
They acknowledged one another,
they did not push each other away.
And then—
they became one.
The Flame That Became One
The flame of Texas
still lifts me back to my feet.
That is why I do not collapse.
I may fall,
but I do not remain there.
The flame of Japan
disciplines me.
That is why I am not swayed by emotion,
and why, each day,
I walk the same path
from the same place.
And the flame of Korea
reminds me why I endure all of this.
-
To love people.
-
To give myself with my whole heart.
-
To take responsibility without running away.
Now, these flames
no longer tear me apart.
They make me whole.
