My wife and I are co-writing a book on marriage. When I told my mother-in-law about this project, she had a simple advice that continues to stay with me in the writing process: “If you write such a book, you must be willing to open up your 마음 (ma-eum).”
The Korean word, ma-eum, captures several different dimensions, with three that are most pertinent to my reflections in this blog post: heart (i.e., feelings), mind (i.e., thoughts), and motivation (i.e., intention or will). For example, one might say, “my ma-eum hurts,” to describe their sadness after reading about an injustice. A person might describe their ma-eum as “complicated” – full of thoughts – when they are deliberating on a difficult decision. And one might apologize for an unintentional wrongdoing against a friend with, “my ma-eum was not what actually happened.”
When my mother-in-law was instructing me to open up our ma-eum when writing, I gathered from the context that she was primarily speaking to the importance of feelings; to not be inhibited about disclosing raw emotions. But given the full, complicated meaning of ma-eum, it made me reflect: in addition to the opening up of my heart, how does my writing also allow me to open up my thoughts? My will or intention? In this blog post, I wish to share some perspectives about these three dimensions of ma-eum, in connection to the practice of writing.
Similar to many of you CSR blog readers, I have been writing this summer, trying to maximize the teaching-free (or at least, teaching-light) months for written outputs. Like a good academic, I try to juggle multiple projects at any given time; projects that require different writing voices – at times, drastically different voices – to be effective.
Take the last week or so at my laptop, for example; I found myself going back and forth between the aforementioned book that my wife and I are working on, and the Results section of a qualitative study manuscript focused on Christian virtues and study abroad. I took “breaks” to jot down some initial thoughts for a Psychology Today blog discussing the Korean soccer star Heung-Min Son. I was then interrupted by a journal editor’s email to revise the technical language of an empirical manuscript under review. I wrote email responses to students that took way too long to draft. I made some written contributions to a co-authored grant proposal. I wrote up a peer-review of another manuscript. And of course, I started to draft this CSR blog content.
Again, you might replace my examples with what is on your current plate of writing tasks. In these writing endeavors, what might it look like to write from the ma-eum?
Open Up Your Heart
To open up the heart, in writing, means to practice vulnerability. I personally find this easier said than done. I mentioned earlier that my wife and I are working on a book. In our writing, we share not only stories of joy, but also stories of mourning; moments when God felt so near, but also moments when God felt frustratingly silent; stories of success, but also stories of failures and in-betweens.
In addition to my mother-in-law’s line earlier, another line, this time from a song, has stayed with me as I write. It’s a song from Netflix’s hit movie, Kpop Demon Hunters1 called “What It Sounds Like” (and yes, I am not ashamed to admit it – I have watched every minute of this movie with my teen daughters. Twice. But I digress): “My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like.”2
My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like. The protagonists belt out these words in reference to their singing voices. But I would like to extend and apply these lines to offer my thoughts about the writing voice that comes from the heart.
In my sinful mindset, I sometimes succumb to the pressure to present a sanitized version of my writing, especially when writing as the “expert” on a subject matter. Of course, I do not mean that all writing should be deeply personal, disclosing everything that is in my heart (that would be more appropriate for a personal diary). But I do mean that there is power in shedding the desire to come across better than I really am – “without the lies,” as the song lyrics go – and to authentically declare, “this is what [my writing] sounds like.”
Unexpectedly, I have also thought about opening up the heart when working on the Discussion section of an empirical manuscript, specifically the Limitations section. Within the strict guidelines of APA style, I have discovered that the clear articulation of a study’s shortcomings can be a form of “opening up my heart”; again, I confess that it is perhaps easier to give in to the mentality of listing “just enough” shortcomings in this section to meet the requirements. But the writing of the Limitations section, when done from a posture of an open ma-eum, can be a deeply meaningful practice of vulnerably disclosing the ways in which this imperfect study conducted by imperfect researchers has areas that can be improved by future researchers.
Open Up Your Mind
Across my writing endeavors, opening up my thoughts is perhaps most applicable when I am writing with other people. When I co-write with others, I find that it requires a purposeful posture of being receptive to their creative ideas; a learning stance must be adopted. Moreover, I must be willing to make changes to my writing, as needed, based on what I learn from others. In that sense, the opening up of one’s thoughts is reflected in both the process (e.g., taking in others’ expertise) and the outcome (e.g., altering methodology based on others’ thoughts) of collaborative writing.
Take the research grant application, for example. Putting together a compelling research grant application is facilitated by opening up intellectually to folks who have different areas of expertise from you. In this setting, you must seriously entertain novel study frameworks; consider new methodologies; trust others to be in charge of an unfamiliar analysis; and broaden the applications of the study findings to areas that you individually might not have dreamt about.
If done well, these ways of writing remind me of the importance of the many parts of the body of Christ working together as one (1 Corinthians 12). In addition, the exhortation to listen to the wisdom of others in the book of Proverbs (e.g., 12:15; 15:31-33;19:20) is congruent with the importance of opening up my ma-eum to humbly engage the thoughts of others.
Open Up Your Motivation
I must admit that this is the most challenging aspect of opening up my ma-eum: the self-monitoring of the motivation underlying my writing. These summer months, I have received my share of emailed requests from students, such as inquiries about joining my research team and requests for letters of recommendation, that I have had to turn down for various reasons. Suffice to say, these are not fun email responses to draft.
On my worse moments, I confess that I am prone to annoyance, impatience, or even exasperation creeping into my ma-eum when having to take time to craft a careful response. I have found that these are the moments when I need to especially pray for wisdom and a deep sense of care for the person – an image bearer of God – on the receiving end of my writing, even if part of what is being communicated is a denial of their request. It can be helpful to self-interrogate my intentions behind the words, before I hit “send”: Is it to educate? To affirm the student in some way, despite me turning down their request? How do my words build up the student, versus discouraging them?
There are so many other important questions about my goals and intentions that I can pose to myself. And consistent with the notion of “opening up,” it is vital that my goals and intentions are clearly communicated to the recipient (i.e., how are my written words landing?). As I wrote in a previous CSR blog post about the practice of conducting peer-review of manuscripts, the prayer underlying this aspect of opening up my intention and will is, “May these words of my mouth and this meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer” (Psalm 19:14).
I hope that what I have shared in this blog post encourages and challenges you open up your ma-eum, by reflecting on how you can incorporate more vulnerability in your writing, in expected and unexpected ways; being attentive to the expertise of others, such as any co-writers, to better your writing; and monitoring your motivation even when drafting seemingly mundane pieces of writing.
Footnotes
- Maggie Kang & Chris Appelhans, directors. Kpop Demon Hunters. Netflix, 2025. 100 mins. https://www.netflix.com/title/81498621
- Huntr/x (voiced by Audrey Nuna, Rei Ami, & Ejae). “What It Sounds like.” KPop Demon Hunters (Soundtrack from the Netflix Film). Republic Records, 2025. https://music.apple.com/us/song/what-it-sounds-like/1820264340
