Issue 51: Discovering Super Powers within Cultural Duality
Lost In Translation with Mira Garrett Bayonne
Warm Greetings, KP! I hope you all enjoyed a Happy Daeboreum (대보름)! The Great Full Moon is a time to collectively extend gratitude to the past, while inviting blessings into the future. It's a tradition that is presumed to date back to the 1st century — a testament to the power of culture and belief.
So, in the spirit of bridging generations with wisdom and acceptance, I am honored to introduce a new flavor to Komerican Pie! Lost in Translation is an exploration of cultural shifts amongst the Korean diaspora, from the perspective of a first-generation, biracial Komerican. It's a journey of self-discovery through reconciling the past and embracing the evolution of the culture.
In this first piece, I share some of my personal story of discovering the unique intersection of tradition and evolution within blended culture. I'd love to hear your stories, too!
Discovering Super Powers within Cultural Duality by Mira Garrett Bayonne
For the first almost-thirty-years of my life, much of my Komerican family experience felt like a colossal collision of communication. A tidal wave of epigenetic emotions crashing into an impenetrable bedrock of unreleased generational trauma. Decades of trying to force a proverbial square peg into a jagged-edged round hole left my surface chipped and scratched, as I strived to simply fit into my own skin.
There was an elusive disconnection that I couldn’t quite reconcile. A longing that yearned to be called by name.
I felt worn from the over-explaining, repeating, crying and screaming; all to just feel seen and heard — to be understood. This rinse-and-repeat cycle rendered me compulsively meticulous about my choice of words. In hindsight, the reality was that I had an adaptive super power that was being honed and fortified through the friction of my family discourse.
I was always mystified by the origin story of my parents’ relationship because it seemed like such a culture clash. I just couldn't fathom the draw. My dad is a tall and brash Texan with dark mahogany complexion, juxtaposed against my delicate Korean mom— standing almost an entire foot shorter— yet never eclipsed by his presence.
They appeared as different as night and day; however, there always seemed to be an underlying inside joke that kept them tethered within a plot, to which only they were privy.
It wasn’t until I went to Korea for the first time, with my mom, that I began to connect with the grand design of it all. I barely understand or speak Korean, so I naturally fell into silent observation. The silence roused a heightened awareness of some of the interesting elements of my personal duality: East and West, light and dark, curiosity and courage, love and war, faith and surrender.
I realized that the contrast between my inherited cultures coalesced into a newly resilient spirit. Ironically, I discovered that clarity from a concept that my mom explained had no equivalent translation to English— 'Jeong' (정).
Google translates jeong to mean “affection”. It's a behavior to be mostly felt than discussed. But to me, it’s more like a Korean secret sauce that melts into your skin and becomes one with the flow, to and from your heart.
It represents an unspoken human bond encompassing attributes like: warmth, compassion, sharing, loyalty, and regard. It’s so much more than affection, or even love. What gets lost in translation is the incredible depth of feeling. The primal understanding that resonates deeper than just a word. It’s a reverence of being; a basic human need.
Jeong is what drew my parents together, despite the language and cultural barriers that should have made it nearly impossible for them to connect. For my mother’s generation, I believe jeong became an evolutionary super power, as a means for survival. A hive mentality that prevailed despite war and famine.
People taking care of people is what preserved them, and eventually allowed the heart of Korean culture to transcend borders at mass— and create people like me!
But from my mother's generation to mine, in America, the unspoken things started to become increasingly loud— like static. The bridge of understanding, much more narrow. I now realize that some of my outspoken unrest was a direct reflection of all that my mom held inside, which she couldn't effectively express in English.
Because we enjoy a basic level of abundance and convenience in America, it becomes easy to take for granted the soul of the whole. But, just as tradition requires intentional practice to preserve its values, the same is true for contemporary growth and evolution. Today, communication skills wrapped in emotional intelligence are imperative for fulfilling connections, especially when silent customs aren't able to seamlessly translate.
Feeling so deeply misunderstood in my formative years actually deepened my ability to innately attune to the pitch of heart. And through my quest into the spell-binding sea of language— in order to quell my own frustrations— my super power unveiled itself as an acute ability to help others find their words, as well.
Apparently, my evolutionary derivative of jeong has manifested into energy translation. The ability to deliver a sentiment into an affirmed and felt expression, is an emotional freedom like no other. And, poetically, the plight of my mom’s journey ensured that I'd have enough empathic motivation to fight for it.
More than ever, I’m grateful that sensing the truth of a person's heart has become my unique, and most fluent, language art.
Crispy Crust: Original art and poetry from an unhyphenated life.
Evolution
That which cannot be translated
must, instead, be transmuted;
Not restored.
The alchemy of heart energy,
uprooted,
is a sacred component of human evolution
that is often left unspoken and generally unexplored.
Like the x-factor in an algebraic expression
that remains obscurely unknown,
but nonetheless,
is a variable that yields true value and impact,
yet to be shown.
The vibration of evolving may seem subtle by day,
though its intensity can shake a generation to its core.
The dust left in its wake may settle stagnantly at bay,
until the whisper of winds between seas,
spread its fragmented pieces and something completely new washes ashore.
Love, Mira
Enjoyed reading Lost in Translation… Extraordinary work!
Wonderful reflection, makes me reflect on my parents background and cherish it much more than fall privy to the direct assimilation that comes with Westernized culture.
The intangibles are worth keeping & in all the dominance the sweetness is lost.