I was born and raised in Korea, built my adult life in the United States, and spent years living nomadically in Central America.

Living across cultures taught me early that there is rarely just one way of seeing. What feels unquestionably true in one place can look entirely different from another.

My curiosity has carried me across landscapes — both outer and inner.

From pilgrimages in India to time spent learning from the A’i Cofán indigenous people in the Amazon and Wixárika communities in Mexico.

From an office in New York City to Burning Man.

From running deals to diving into the mystery of being alive.

Through all of it, I kept returning to a question:

What does it mean to be deeply human?

Over time, I’ve become less interested in finding the right answer and more interested in moving between perspectives — noticing what each one allows us to see, and what it might leave out.

A different kind of success

My journey didn’t start quite so loftily.

It began in investment banking on Wall Street and later took me to Silicon Valley — choices shaped by ambition, intellect, and a deep drive to achieve.

For a long time, achievement gave me a clear map for how to live. And by many measures, it was working.

But there was also an unquenchable thirst for something deeper. A painful breakup cracked something open. And then I lost my mother.

The map I had relied on no longer felt like enough.

I started asking different questions:

Who am I without everything I’ve learned to become?

What actually makes me free?

Those questions led me into meditation, yoga, and psychological and contemplative practice. 

They also led me away from the life I knew. 

I left San Francisco for a small beach town in Panama and spent the next three years living nomadically. Away from the familiar markers of my old life, immersed in nature and in communities different from those I was used to, I began to see my conditioning more clearly — and slowly loosen my grip on the identity I had worked so hard to build.

In 2021, that journey led me to become a teacher at the Hoffman Process. I began offering my own workshops and retreats, and since then have guided more than thirty retreats and spent hundreds of hours sitting with people as they explore the patterns, relationships, and emotional histories that shape who we are.

Alongside this work, I spent more than a decade exploring altered states of consciousness — following curiosity beyond the boundaries of the ordinary self.

Some experiences expanded my understanding of life.

Others challenged my deepest assumptions.

Both taught me to become more comfortable with not knowing — and to leave room for mystery.

What I’ve come to trust

After moving through so many different worlds, I’ve stopped believing that any one tradition or framework has the whole answer.

I’m drawn to the places where worlds meet — East and West, psychology and spirituality, intellect and intuition, the personal and the transpersonal.

And beneath all of them, I keep returning to something simple:

We become who we are through one another.

We are shaped in relationship — by the people we love, the cultures we inherit, the places we inhabit, the communities we create, the natural world, and the unseen. And woven through it all is the relationship we have with ourselves.

This sense of interbeing has become central to how I understand my life — and why I create spaces for people to come together.

To go inward. To play. To question what we think we know. To encounter what we may have been unable to see alone.

I don’t have the answers.

But I’ve come to trust what becomes possible when we truly meet.

Perhaps we’ll meet there.