We are the authors of our own story
Last week, I watched the 2026 Class Day address delivered by Lee Min Jin, the world-renowned author of "Pachinko." Her reflections on the Korean diaspora, spanning from Japanese colonialism to the present, resonated deeply with me.
Thanks to her celebrated novel, readers worldwide came to understand the hardships Koreans endured both in Japan and in Korea during those colonial years.
Her speech centered on the theme: “Time is our teacher.” Drawing on Greek philosophical concepts — chronos (passing time) and kairos (the pivotal moment) — she urged us to value decisive moments over urgency. As I grow older, I have realized that life’s most enduring lessons are not found in rushing through tasks, but in recognizing the moments that truly shape who we become.
For Lee, one such moment was attending a tea gathering at Yale, where she learned of a Korean Japanese boy who had taken his own life after relentless bullying. That tragedy became the turning point that inspired her to write "Pachinko." I admire her resilience — spending 38 years researching, interviewing and studying colonial history before completing her masterpiece.
She explained that everyone possesses “time bifocals,” a dual perspective we can use when facing unfamiliar situations. Like many, I have lived with chronos-driven goals —when to marry, when to be promoted, how much to save — always aware of mortality’s deadline. Yet, as she reminded us, we are both the authors and historians of our own lives. It is up to us to put on those bifocals during critical moments.
Lee illustrated this through Odysseus, who repented his cruel scheme of the Trojan Horse, a decision that caused countless deaths. Guided by the goddess, he eventually chose to return home — a kairos moment of redemption. Similarly, when Lee realized her academic path did not fit, she courageously began again, shifting careers until she embraced writing.
I, too, have faced many kairos moments: choosing schools, enlisting in the army, deciding whom to marry, selecting a career, purchasing land and guiding my children’s education. Sometimes I chose wisely; other times, through impulsiveness or deception, I faltered. These choices have shaped who I am today.
One regret still weighs heavily on me: During the pandemic, I admitted my mother to a nursing hospital instead of keeping her with my family. I believed others’ assurances that she would receive better care, ignoring the loneliness she endured until her death. I often wonder how different my memories would be had I chosen otherwise. Yet, time also brought moments of grace. Once, nearly deceived by a voice-phishing scam, I was saved when my wife stopped me from revealing my bank PIN. That moment still chills me when I recall it.
As fragile humans, we inevitably make mistakes during pivotal moments. But as Lee reminded us, we can always return to square one. Just as she shifted from law to literature, we too can rewrite our stories. I am determined to write the remainder of mine with sincerity. And to the young authors and historians of life, I urge you this Chuseok to visit your parents and express gratitude. That, too, may become a kairos moment you will cherish forever.
Lee Eung-tae (eungtae@gmail.com) is a former high school teacher who taught English for 35 years.