[An Essay from My Heart]

The Journey Home Through a Snowstorm

On my way back from a business trip, the airport became a place where time seemed to lose its meaning. Because of a snowstorm, my flight was delayed three times, and then, for a fourth time, the departure time was changed altogether. The numbers on the departure board shifted again and again, while the expressions on people’s faces gradually grew rigid. With no words at all, the airport was teaching us how fragile our carefully planned schedules and expectations are in the face of nature.

Beyond the glass windows, the runway lay buried in white silence. The wind drove the snow relentlessly, carving its presence into metal and concrete. Even the airplane—an embodiment of advanced technology—had no choice but to wait. In that moment, I realized something fundamental: the world we believe we control functions only within the limits that nature allows.

The cold inside the airport was more than a matter of temperature. It seeped into the body and quietly calmed the mind. It pulled me away from a daily life obsessed with speed, efficiency, and results, returning me instead to an older human posture—waiting. Nature did not rush, nor did it offer explanations. It simply seemed to say, “Now is not the time.”

When the plane finally took off, a sense of relief was accompanied by an unexpected humility. More than the joy of arriving home, I felt the weight of having passed safely through nature’s unpredictability. We often speak of conquering nature, yet in truth, we are merely borrowing a path within it for a brief moment.

The journey home through the snowstorm was exhausting and inconvenient, but it was also a precious time of reflection. Nature continually asks human beings a quiet question: How humble are you? How well can you wait? Standing before that question, we return once again to being human. ***

January 29, 2026
 
 

At Sungsunjae (崇善齋)

{Solti}

한국어 번역: https://www.ktown1st.com/blog/VALover/348311