Ten Talents

I didn't want to go Korea.

I had just finished my degree at UC Irvine, but instead of feeling a sense of accomplishment, I felt a mounting pressure. I was unemployed, the market was tough, and I was obsessed with what I needed to do to change that. When my parents suggested a two-week trip to Seoul, the first time I would be returning to my birthplace since I left at one year old, I saw it as a distraction. I wanted to stay home and grind.

But my parents insisted. They wanted me to take a break, get some perspective, and see the world outside of my own career anxieties.

Seoul is a city of jarring contrast. On one hand, it feels like the world is void of problems: people with flawless skin, dressed in the trendiest fashion, walking through the vibrant streets. But if you look closer, you see another world. You see the motorcycle delivery drivers weaving through traffic at all hours and the commuters staring out of the subway windows with a look of permanent, quiet exhaustion.

The realization hit me over a meal with my mom.

She looked around the restaurant and said, “Jun, when we go back to the States, we’re going to live our normal lives. But if we ever come back in a few months, or even in a few years, these people will still be working at this exact job.”

I thought about the Parable of the Talents. In the story, a master entrusts his servants with different amounts of talents before going on a journey. The first two servants invest their talents and double them, while the third, paralyzed by fear, buries his in the ground.

As I’ve been reflecting on my upbringing and the opportunities I’ve been given–an education at a top university, the freedom to pivot my career, and the ability to travel across the world–I have to make an honest confession: I have been given the ten talents. Honestly probably even more.

Even if I mess around for a couple of years or let my fear of the future paralyze me, there are still people in Seoul and even other parts of the world who would dream to be in the position that I’m in, even the unemployed version of me. Their ceiling is my floor.

I came back to the States with a fresh sense of urgency. It’s no longer just about finding a role or building a career. It’s about conviction. I have been entrusted with much, and much is expected of me. I am grateful for the journey, and I’m carrying that gratitude into whatever lies ahead.