By Diplomacy Journal Lee Kap-soo

 

The following article on Professor Park Young-hee’s “Saturday Letters” was contributed by Esi Han, Public Relations Officer of the Embassy of Ghana in Seoul to Diplomacy Journal for publication. –Ed.

 

On March 15, 2025, at the sunlit convention hall of YMCA Youth center in Goyang
city, something greater than a milestone was celebrated—a quiet homage to a
life of thought, a philosophy of care, and a deep affection for humanity. The
occasion marked the 1000th issue of the ‘Saturday Letters’ a heartfelt essay
series written without interruption for 20 years by Professor Park Young-hee,
founder of Humanities of Growth and a beloved professor at Dongguk University.
he is affectionately known by his pen name, Dunjae (鈍齋).

 

 

Dunjae (鈍齋): A Philosophy Rooted in Slowness and Steadfastness

 

Professor Park calls himself ‘Dunjae’ meaning the slow scholar—not slow from
lack of thought, but from a deliberate choice to move gently through the world.
Rather than rushing to conclusions or hasty action, he values slow reflection,
quiet attention, and steady effort. His pen name embodies this deeply held
philosophy.
In that spirit, his Saturday Letters have offered a counterbalance to the relentless
speed of modern life. His words do not rush to impress; they arrive with calmness
and care, taking root quietly in the hearts of his readers—week after week, year
after year.

 

It All Began in the Snow — A Goryeo-Era Poem and a Heart Moved to Write

 

Whenever Professor Park is asked how his Saturday Letters began, he cites a
single poem—one that left a lasting imprint on his spirit. It is a piece written by
Yi Gyu-bo (1168–1241), a poet of the Goryeo dynasty, titled ‘Visiting a Friend
in the Snow, Only to Find Him Absent’:
雪色白於紙
The snow, whiter than paper,
擧鞭書姓字
I raised my whip and wrote your name in it.
莫敎風掃地
Wind, please do not sweep the ground clean.
好待主人至
Let it remain until my friend arrives.

 

The poem speaks of longing, absence, and the loving gesture of leaving behind
a trace—a name in the snow—as a promise of connection. Professor Park was
deeply moved by its image and spirit. In that moment, he resolved to begin
leaving traces of her own—words from his heart, sent to those he cared for.
And so, on April 24, 2004, he began the Saturday Letters.

 

A Journey of 1,000 Letters Began with the Humility of One

 

The extraordinary achievement of 1000 uninterrupted letters was not driven by
ambition, but by humble self-reflection. Speaking at the commemorative event,
Professor Park shared:
“From the very first letter until today, I’ve said the same thing to myself each
week: ‘That wasn’t good enough. I must write better next time. That thought, week
after week, has carried me here.”
This gentle self-challenge became a wellspring of strength. What began as
modest determination became a source of comfort for others. The sincerity of
one heart grew into a quiet tradition passed down between generations.

 

 

To Record is to Love — A Ceremony Woven with Grace and Gratitude

 

Titled ‘1,000 Breaths In and Out,’ the celebration was attended by former
students, alumni, family, literary figures, and public voices. Among them were
novelist Kim Hong-shin, broadcaster Kim Byung-jo, and Honorary Professor Lee
Hwang-woo of Dongguk University. Each offered their heartfelt tributes to
Professor Park’s journey of the pen.

Poet Park Jong-myung honored the occasion with a reading of her work ‘The
Moonlight Fisherman,’ while guests joined in singing the classic Korean song
‘Letter.’A surprise video featuring handwritten messages from students brought
laughter, tears, and a tender stillness to the room.

 

A Fortress of the Humanities Built One Letter at a Time

 

To write these letters, Professor Park read over 1,500 books and collected ten
boxes of newspaper clippings. Apart from a single sabbatical of one and a half
years, he never stopped. This was not habit—it was devotion.

Each Saturday, he opened a small window between himself and his readers,
reflecting on ethics, art, loneliness, and hope. Rather than instructing or
preaching, he asked questions of himself—and, by doing so, invited his readers
to reflect on their own lives.

 

In a Digital Age, His Letters Embody the Spirit of Diplomacy

 

At its heart, diplomacy is the art of careful communication—an enduring
relationship built on sincerity and consideration. In this way, Professor Park’s
letters transcend personal correspondence; they model a refined, human
diplomacy.

His writing is marked by thoughtfulness and respect, each word carrying weight
and warmth. As a journalist attending the event for Diplomacy Journal, I was
struck by a realization: these 1,000 letters are perhaps among the most quietly
powerful diplomatic documents of our time.

While Professor Park has experimented with modern AI tools, he remains
grounded in his belief that:
‘Nothing can replace the warmth and texture of a sentence written by one person,
for another.’

 

And Still, He Writes

 

On the Saturday following the 1000th issue—just like always—Professor Park sent
out his 1001st letter. At the end, he wrote:

“Today is a happy Saturday. We often call Saturday the ‘weekend,’ as if it marks
the end of something. But I believe Saturday offers us a quiet space to reflect on
the week past and gently prepare for what lies ahead. I sincerely hope you begin
the new week with purpose and grace.”

These words, in fact, were the final lines of his very first letter—a full-circle
moment, a reply across 20 years.

The path he has walked, and continues to walk, is one paved with sentences that
quietly connect hearts. May future generations follow the footprints he’s left in
the snow—traces of care, humility, patience, and love.