Life Questions

In the last month, I've collected a few key questions to reflect on, prompted by my feelings of anxiety, being overwhelmed, exhausted, and pulled in multiple directions.  These questions come from different sources, readings, favorite bloggers, Ignatian spirituality,  and I thought I'd share them with you.  Use them if they help.   I spent an hour this week writing my answers and reflections down on an index card with a question written on the top.  I tucked those cards into my purse and look at them throughout the day.  They help me keep in touch with what I discovered and want to honor.


1.  What do you want to do with your time?  This includes what you would want to do as work.


2.  Who do you want to spend your time with?  (actual people you know or kinds of people you'd like to spend time with)

3.  How do you want to live your life?

4.  Where do you feel invited into to be your authentic self, to bring the light of your soul?  This could be a place, a profession, an industry, a community, etc.

5.  What do you have that you are thankful for?

6.  What do you want that you will have?

7.  If you feel anxious and overwhelmed, what do you want to get rid of in your life?

8.  What can you get rid of to create space for God (life, love, desires) to come in?

Week 3

Week 3 sounds so docile and meek, like it happened quickly and in the blink of an eye.  But Week 3 in Ignatian 9 Month Retreat speak means four weeks of contemplating the suffering and death of Jesus Christ.

I know, yikes!

Yesterday, I finished the last week of Week 3, and I experienced a passing through and growth in my self and in wisdom. 

Week 3 was tough.  Mary, my spiritual director, mentioned that most people experience fatigue at this point.  I've been experiencing fatigue throughout this retreat so it was nothing new.  But the thing that I was unprepared for was the depth of mourning and grieving I would do for the suffering I had experienced in my past and present life.


I've been learning a lot about suffering--the nature of suffering, what suffering does to us, the gift of suffering, how to experience suffering.  I know it's not a light topic, and it probably seems odd  for someone in their 20s to be thinking so much about suffering.  But it's so human--our need to understand and find a way through our pain.  It doesn't seem odd to me.  Although I didn't expect to learn so much about suffering in this retreat, in a way, it was what I needed all along.  I needed answers and a space to mourn; I needed a way to deal and live.  I needed the space to find my self and honor it.

Some of the wisdom I've gained/others that have been reaffirmed:
- Experiencing our own suffering with more depth and honesty allows us to be more fully human.
- God never wants us to suffer.  God wants us to be deeply alive.
- Stop the pretending; the energy poured into making something work.  Trust your restlessness, your need for something more.
- Suffering happens.  Most of the time, there is no explanation.  It's not rational.
- Our essential needs, the things that make us desire to really live, need to be honored above all else.
- My reactions are not your reactions.  Your reactions are not my reactions.  I don't ever need to compare my reaction to yours and wonder if it's "right."  If it doesn't feel right for me, it's not right.

Peace to my readers.  Thank you for sharing in my journey.

The 9 month Ignatian Retreat is Over! Kind of

 {spritz & crisps in Venice, Italy}

Last night marked my last group meeting for my 9 month Ignatian Retreat.  It's not over for me completely--I missed several weeks throughout the retreat so I have more to go before I finish the exercises.  I'll continue to meet with my spiritual director until I'm done.

But still, I feel an immense sense of accomplishment, a kind of passing through.  A big milestone!  J. was an absolute doll and surprised me with Campari mixers and recreated the Venetian Spritz aperitivo that I adored so much in Venice.  We toasted to the end of my 9 months and chatted about the meeting.

On Suffering and Breaking Through

{the skies above rome, italy}

Since my adolescence, I've had a troubled relationship with the nature of suffering, but it was certainly nothing compared with the extreme stint I experienced after graduating from college.

Ignatian Retreat: Beau Dans Sa Peau

I'm in the 6th month of the Ignatian Retreat, and it's really hard to believe I'm in the last stretch of the 9 month retreat.

The theme for my current place in the retreat is encountering Jesus.  And you know what, that has actually been profound and good.  I've learned to differentiate Jesus from religion, and that has made me feel so much happier.

The biggest theme for this entire retreat has been freedom.  I'm sure everyone has their own personal themes but that is mine without a doubt.  I have felt so oppressed by Christianity yet drawn and it's made me feel a bit mental until recently.  Now I know that I'm drawn to Jesus and turned off by religion.  And I am A-ok with that.

The thing I love about my spiritual director is how much she respects my space and personal integrity.  Today, I met with her and talked with her about my concerns regarding the concept of "call."    I'm always paranoid that I'll be called to something that will absolutely gut me and that leaves me liking God not very much at all.  Really, it's enough to want me to abandon ship and become a great free floating agnostic or simply a "spiritual" person with no ties to any religion.

So when she told me that this whole process is about learning to be more alive, to have more interior freedom so that the we experience freedom instead of a narrow choice, I had to point out that in the exercise I had just completed, it said that I should willingly follow Jesus and suffer for his glory.

I said, "See here, this word?  It says suffer.  That sounds like the complete opposite of feeling alive."

So Mary expanded.  She said, "Suffering can actually bring you joy if it's done with honesty and integrity."

Something clicked.  She went on, "There's a rightness to it--that you're doing something that is truly who you are and you're freely doing it.  It's very concrete--God takes into consideration everything about you, your life experiences, the things that have shaped you since childhood.  Calling, even if there's suffering in it, will be about who you are.  It won't be disjointed.  You will have integrity, honesty, and a sense of rightness."

"Ahhh," I said.  "So, the time when I was doing that inner city ministry and told to "suffer like Christ did" but in my head I was thinking, this is absolutely nuts and I do not agree with this in any way--that was suffering that was disjointed, had no honesty, no sense of integrity, and no sense of rightness."

"Exactly," said Mary.

I love that phrase: There's a rightness.  Mary says that one a lot.  Along with the words freedom and alive.

Right now, I feel complete freedom to be whoever, do whatever, but also just be.  Be who I am.  I've been reading a lot of Mireille Giuliano lately and she has this phrase she loves to repeat:

"beau dans sa peau"

It means, being comfortable in your own skin.  That, Mireille says, is the key to the French woman's success in life and business (she's the former CEO of Veuve Cliquot).  I really really love that phrase too.

To you reader, I wish for you what Mary said God wants for us.  I believe it when I say it.  Be alive.  Be fully alive.  Act with honesty and integrity.  Be who you are.  Respect that feeling of rightness.  Listen to your body.  Be grounded.  Accept your self.  Experience complete interior freedom.  Beau dans sa peau.

an obvious revelation

I'd like to share something with you friend and reader--a revelation of sorts or as my friend Jan puts it, "That was not big at all, it's so obvious!"


Well, the obvious finally became obvious to me this last week.


As many of you know, I have been on a major vocational search my entire life.  I guess it's been more like 8 years but still, that's a huge chunk. What to do, what to do, what to do--my brain hums.  My head hurt after awhile.


That's probably why I got so spiritual in all honesty.  I was searching for the mysterious to become clear.  I was looking for an answer.  I wanted to know that God hadn't abandoned me in all this.


And I felt abandoned during some stretches of the road to be sure.


I have despaired, hoped, dreamt and prayed that I would know exactly what it was that I should be doing with my life.  I have interviewed countless people and looked into countless jobs.


This last week, I got a good leg up on that wish and am on my way with a clearer sense of direction and who I am meant to be.

more of who i truly am

i love to eat
i love to read
i love to cook
i love to write
i love to dream
i love to sing
i love to learn





I was the girl who wanted to do everything.  At one point, I had flute lessons, piano lessons, and marimba lessons going while I did softball, band, hospital candy stripe volunteering, and AP Calculus not to mention being youth group leader, mission frontier teenager, songwriter, and world traveler.  And at the end of the day, I hoped one day to learn cello and sing as a professional with the Los Angeles Chorale and go on tour with my favorite band and get a record deal until I became a doctor and saved lives and could do everything with an M.D. at the end of my name.

In college, everyone else seemed to be able to pick something they really wanted and do that thing really well.  I was befuddled.  It became increasingly clear that I couldn't keep doing everything I wanted yet how could I pick one thing to focus on?

In my times with M., my spiritual director, she often affirms me by saying, "It sounds like you feel like that's who you truly are."  or "You're becoming who you're truly meant to be." or "It sounds like that's really important to you.  Claim that.  Honor that."

Sometimes she'll ask, "So how does that feel?"

And I'll say, "It just feels right.  I feel a rightness in my body.  I don't know how to explain except it just feels right."

And she'll say, "Trust that feeling, H.  That rightness is important. Trust your body to tell you."

Bless her soul.  I love her.

I've been learning to trust my body more, instead of my emotional programming.  All of the "ifs, buts, howevers" in my brain are quieter.  The analyzing and strategizing for a better me have slowed.  My mom's hopes for me to be a lawyer or some kind of respectable money-making professional don't sting so much.

Instead, I've been marveling at how utterly obvious and simple life can be.  I've been learning to do things and notice how happy it makes me feel--like screenprinting.  I can do it for hours and hours and hope to wake up and keep doing it.  I never would have thought that I would pursue screenprinting as a profession but now, I can almost see it.  I can almost see it because I'm not analyzing and tearing apart the impractical nature of being an artist--the sure poverty--the lack of professional cache--the certain disappointment of my parents.  I'm able to see it because I respect the practical nature of it and not just the meaningful (which most of the time has been created for me by others).  I see that I can do it for hours and feel good, connected, like I am truly being myself.  And I'm able to accept who "myself" might be--even if it doesn't look anything like what I was taught that it should like.

Ah, that is the 20 something year old's task--to find the strength to redefine success for yourself and the courage to pursue it.  To all my friends out there, I wish you the joy of discovering who you truly are and the conviction to honor it.

C'est la joie de vivre, mes amis.  Beaucoup d'amour, H.

Listening to Your Body: Ignatian Spirituality Month 4

One of the things I am most grateful for in the last couple of weeks is how M. has taught me to listen to my body.  It seems to be a theme in my life right now and when practiced, it makes me feel stable and sane.

I know, stable and sane--Hanna?  It's been amazing.

All my life growing up, I've been exposed to a smorgasbord of good and bad theology.  The worst of the bunch was the one that told me to ignore my body and try to figure out what it was that God was trying to tell me by hearing a voice, getting an inner knowing, receiving a sign, etc.  Paired with a puritanical distrust of the body (flesh) and a doctrine that taught that inner struggles and difficult decisions were usually a sign that we need to make the harder choice (for God), I became a mess.  This usually meant that I spent hours days months agonizing over a decision and trying to figure it out in my head or talking to countless number of people for advice or try to find that elusive inner knowing in the midst of overwhelming anxiety.  This naturally led to being an indecisive person that had lots of angst and inner conflict.

Ignatian Retreat, Month 2-3: Making Spiritual Decisions

This story is a bit intense in that I share some negative experiences with spiritual direction. I don't often like to share negative stories (it has a good ending) but I think that it could provide helpful "what not to dos" for those interested in this kind of thing.

A couple months ago, I wrote about my first month in the 9 month Ignatian Spirituality program. I had my reservations about my director but I gave her a chance and she came through. There were ups and downs but the ups seemed to be winning out.

Until that is, a few weeks ago when I came home with so much anxiety that I could barely fathom the thought of prayer. I was so disturbed by my session with my director that I was yelling and bursting into tears while J. sat by bewildered.

Ignatian Retreat: Month 1

In July, I wrote about signing up to do the 19th Annotation Ignatian Retreat at the Sisters of St. Joseph in Orange, CA. Here is an update one month after my start in September.

When I first met with my spiritual director, I was nervous, a little agitated, and wondering if this was going to work out. You see, I expected to meet with a liberal white nun at the convent, not a middle aged Korean medical doctor in her dusty and cluttered medical office 45 inconvenient minutes away from my house.

I had so many stereotypical concerns. Was she going to give me unsolicited advice? Was she going to say really blunt things? Was she going to be an extension of my mom? And why did I get paired up with her anyways? When Sister Barbara, the director of the program, asked me at orientation if I needed the Korean handout (after I had had an interview with her in English), my suspicions were confirmed. They paired me with a Korean because I'm a Korean! It felt like one of those unfair, annoying, discriminatory moves that happens to me from well meaning people.

The first few sessions with my director were OK. There were some red flags. She advised me on how to choose a church for my unborn children. She told me I was unconventionally blessed to be married to a man that supported my spiritual journey as well as J. did. When I shared my treasured vocational dreams and realizations with her, she said, "You're excited and emotional right now and that doesn't mean it's God. You need to keep praying." Kill me now.

I wondered if I should switch and in fact, many of my friends told me I should. But I decided to give it one more chance, and I'm glad I did.

In the past, spiritual directors have jolted me with their insights. They have made me cry uncontrollably with their very presence. They have given me their progressive and liberal encouragements to flee fundamentalism and evangelicalism and love myself. They have shown me a God that I longed for and couldn't name.

My director didn't really do that. Sometimes, she did the opposite and reminded me of what I did not want to be hearing. But as the weeks progressed and we delved into the Ignatian scripture meditations that were outlined for me each week, I sensed the value of her wisdom and guidance. Ignatian retreat direction is very specific--she helps me stay committed to the one hour of scripture meditation and prayer each day and helps me talk about it and see God in my experiences. Within that structure, our relationship comes alive.

The Ignatian experience, like life, is fluid. There are lows and highs. Last week, a day did not go by that I did not cry from despair. You see, the scripture meditations were bringing up my fears and it was quite gutting. Thank God for surfing--it cleared my head and helped me get back to it instead of abandoning the practice.

Then, there are the highs. Facing my fears opened my heart to receive God's love and this week, I received God's presence and peace in deeper than deep ways, along with a beautiful vision for my life. These have been beautiful and unforseeable times, and I have been seeing that God's love can drive out my greatest fears and give me immense freedom to follow my heart.

I am on my fourth week of the 9 month retreat. I have met with my spiritual director seven times and the rest of the program retreatants twice. 8 more months to go. Each day, I struggle to do the meditations, and I struggle to do them for a full hour. But it's getting easier as time goes on and in some ways, it feels like learning to ride a bike. I'm learning to pedal without falling down, and I'm looking forward to riding with the wind on my back.