My Way – A MUSING BIRD

Itinerary:
📍DAY 1 (OCT 23)
홍두깨칼국수
파라다이스 스파도고 (도고온천)
아산레일바이크
외암민속마을
명성갈비
온양제일호텔 (온양온천)

📍DAY 2 (OCT 24)
신정식당
온천천
은행나무길
언더힐

After breakfast, my friend and I decided to walk to the ginkgo tree-lined path, partly to let my meal settle. It was about a 45-minute walk—a route that follows a pedestrian path along the stream called 온천천, ending with a crossing over 충무 Bridge. I wondered if I had ever walked such an ordinary street for so long in my life.

It was an utterly mundane, unremarkable stretch of road. With nothing flashy to catch the eye, my attention naturally drifted to the familiar sights around me and to the person walking beside me. My friend’s face, warm in the sunlight; the clear stream flowing diligently toward somewhere unknown; leaves and blades of grass swaying in the breeze—these everyday details filled me with a quiet joy and calm.

I feel a little guilty toward my friend who planned our itinerary, but I think the time spent walking along 온천천 will remain the most memorable part of this trip. Nearly an hour spent doing nothing in particular, simply walking together, felt unexpectedly wonderful. The street we walked on reminded me a lot of my life itself: ordinary and modest, yet made precious and joyful by sharing it with someone dear.

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What does it really mean to live “my way”—to live not according to others, but according to myself, according to my own philosophy and convictions?

I’ve always thought of myself as someone who lives life my way. As a goal-oriented person, I’ve consistently set objectives and calculated precisely how to spend my time to achieve them. I’ve always had big ambitions, countless things I wanted to learn, experience, and enjoy, and high expectations of myself. I believed that a life like mine, full of obligations and plans, was too busy to wander aimlessly on a trip, following someone else’s lead.

Looking back now, I realize that I haven’t actually been living my way. I’ve been moving “efficiently” to achieve something. I’ve been trying to fit into society, to be recognized, to stand out. From my school years through university and into my professional life, my guiding principle was to “live a socially successful life.” My goal was to graduate from a prestigious university, earn a high salary, work in a reputable corporation, and live luxuriously.

I believed that I always had to accomplish something, that in everything I did I had to come out first. Even a moment of pause felt like falling permanently behind the world. By leading my life with such a mindset, I was able to achieve most of what I wanted. Yet the satisfaction of success is fleeting. In everyday life, I was constantly restless and unsatisfied, never fully at ease, without even knowing why.

As a success-chasing humanities major, law school seemed like the surest road to that shiny, coveted prize. Yet, at the moment I faced the decision to invest over $100,000 a year for three years to elevate my social standing, I began to question whether this path was truly right for me. Was this really the life I wanted? The prestige, the money, the recognition… was this really “my way”? People told me that being accepted to a prestigious law school is no small achievement—why would I turn down such an opportunity? They called it an investment truly worth every cent. And yet, I couldn’t help but wonder whether this path reflected my own heart, or if it was simply the result of chasing status and prestige.

When I raised this doubt, the responses varied: some said I was already too old for such exploration, others insisted that no career could ever fully satisfy us and that all we can do is commit to whatever path we end up on, and still others couldn’t understand why I would hesitate in the face of such an obviously “successful” path. I had heard these messages too many times—both from others and from within myself. They were smart and practical, yet what society defines as “achievement” had only carried me to a place where I no longer recognized myself.

To my surprise, giving up law school brought an enormous sense of freedom. Like a rhinitis patient long plagued by congestion, headaches, and a runny nose, who finally got treated, I could at last breathe freely. I had been trying to wear a suit that didn’t fit me—an outfit dictated by social image and the idea of success. I knew it didn’t suit me, but I couldn’t easily discard it, because I had already told those around me and even myself that I would go to law school, and I couldn’t betray the expectations I had constructed.

Now, with all the heavy, unnecessary layers stripped away, I want to live slowly, simply, and well. I want to live doing what I truly desire, not what others or society expect. Most importantly, I don’t want my life to be so stiff. I want to be someone who doesn’t always act toward a goal, doesn’t always calculate for maximum efficiency, but who sometimes can let go, breathe, and go with the flow. In that sense, this recent trip with my friend was a true delight. Just like my life has become ordinary and modest, this trip was enjoyable simply because we were together, without any elaborate plans.