Even without words, the heart transmits.
“From heart to heart” exists for a reason. Some forms of resonance deepen precisely because language doesn’t interfere. A brush of fingertips. The way someone steadies another walking uphill. A daughter supporting her aging mother down narrow stairs. A glance that says, I’m here.
In those moments, race, language, nationality, education, and social status dissolve. What remains is simple: presence meeting presence.
That is love.
Not the dramatic version.
Not the cinematic version.
The ordinary, embodied version.
Love Across Borders
Years ago, photography was my side practice when I found myself pulled into a short film collaboration connected with Jameson Whiskey. Somehow that project handed me the title “director of photography,” and I began telling stories I encountered in real life—quiet stories with weight.
One day in a Business Strategy class, two guest speakers walked in: a tall white woman with a bright, open smile, and a large, gentle Black man who carried himself softly. They wore matching T-shirts.
Ava and Faz.
They were partners in love—and co-founders of Innocence Lost Foundation, a nonprofit supporting former child soldiers in Sierra Leone.
During Sierra Leone’s civil war (1991–2002), armed groups abducted or forcibly recruited tens of thousands of children—estimates commonly cite over 30,000. Many were drugged, indoctrinated, and forced into violence. Childhood was replaced with survival.
Faz had been one of those children.
He later resettled in Canada as a refugee. He still remembers seeing snowfall for the first time.
“I met Faz in film school,” Ava said, smiling. “He stood in the back of acting class, alone. Quiet.”
Ava—Miss British Columbia 2013—model, actress, activist. Bright, expressive, socially confident.
Faz—soft-spoken, inward, carrying trauma in his nervous system.
On paper, they appeared different in almost every measurable way: race, upbringing, economic background, history, temperament. And yet their love did not erase difference. It held it.
That was what struck me.
Their relationship did not perform sameness. It practiced understanding.
Faz still lived with PTSD. Ava said gently, “There isn’t much I can do to fix it.” But her presence was steady. Not fixing. Not saving. Staying.
That kind of love is rare, especially in today’s dopamine culture.
In a Culture That Prices People
It was the height of Tinder and Instagram culture. Swipe left. Swipe right. Choose by income, appearance, lifestyle, algorithm. We had begun pricing humans like products.
In that climate, Ava and Faz’s love felt almost radical.
Not because it was dramatic. But because it was responsible.
Their union extended beyond romance into shared purpose. Together, they worked toward building rehabilitation and education pathways for children who had been forced to become soldiers.
It wasn’t just attraction. It was devotion to healing—personal and collective.
I asked them: “If you’re open to it, could I make this into a short film? We could use it to raise funds for the foundation.”
In May 2018, with support from Vancouver Film School, we hosted a small screening:
“Love Across Borders & The Lives of Africa’s Child Soldiers.”
About fifty people attended. It wasn’t a grand stage. But the room felt large.
The dialogue I had that night with them and our audiences was a reminder:
Love must not be abandoned because it is inconvenient.
Love must not be measured only by similarity.
Love must not be reduced to chemistry or compatibility.
Love—when rooted in dignity—transcends category.
The Buddha and “Just Like Me”
The Buddha did not speak about love sentimentally. He taught mettā—loving-kindness—as a disciplined practice.
In the Karaniya Mettā Sutta, he says:
“Just as a mother would protect her only child at the risk of her own life,
so one should cultivate a boundless heart toward all beings.”
This is not romantic love.
It is protective, courageous, expansive love. Compassion! True love is fundamentally compassionate and respectful.
In the Samyutta Nikaya (SN 3.8):
“Searching all directions with one’s mind,
one finds no one dearer than oneself.
In the same way, others are dear to themselves.
Therefore, one who loves oneself should not harm another.”
This is the logic of love.
Just like me, this person wants safety.
Just like me, this person fears pain.
Just like me, this person longs to be seen.
Love always wins—not because it conquers others, but because it dissolves the illusion of separateness.
Love is not always quiet.
Sometimes love stands in the street, to stand by someone, to stand up for what we value and trust.
In recent years, we have watched women in Iran remove their headscarves and chant for freedom after the death of Mahsa Amini. We have seen young people risk imprisonment, violence—even death—simply to say: my body is not property, my voice is not disposable.
We have watched Ukrainians defend their homes. We have seen civilians in Gaza and Israel grieve children lost. Black communities demanding dignity. Indigenous peoples protecting land. Climate activists chaining themselves to trees.
At first glance, these movements look like resistance.
But at their core, they are love, love of understanding and empathy.
Love for dignity.
Love for life.
Love for safety.
Love for future generations.
People do not risk everything for hatred alone.
They risk everything because something in them knows:
Human beings deserve better than domination and fear.
Growing Up Divided
I grew up in one of the only countries on earth that remains physically divided.
The Korean Peninsula has carried the unresolved tension of the Korean War for over seventy years. One side shaped by democracy and capitalism. The other shaped by communism that evolved into a totalitarian system influenced by Leninist–Marxist ideology.
Political sensitivity was never abstract for us. It was lived history.
Too many innocent people had already lost their lives.
Too many families were permanently separated across a border that cut through bloodlines.
Because of that history, many of us learned something subtle.
We vote.
We participate in activism and civic life.
But we tend not to aggressively assert political identity in everyday relationships.
We have seen what ideological absolutism can do.
In workplaces, family gatherings, and social settings, political arguments are often avoided—not because we are indifferent, but because we know how quickly ideology can fracture human connection. It’s not being pretentious or hiding; it’s being neutral when needed.
Growing up like this shaped me.
And yet—when I look at global politics today, I still get triggered.
Anger rises.
Hatred flares.
My mind wants to divide: right and wrong, good and evil, enlightened and ignorant.
The nervous system tightens. Then something in me pauses.
If history has taught me anything, it is this:
People do not choose their positions in a vacuum.
There are causes.
There are conditions.
There are fears and narratives and wounds shaping every stance we witness.
This does not mean every action is justified.
It means every action is conditioned.
And the Buddha was clear about this: nothing arises independently. Everything emerges from causes and conditions.
When I remember that, hatred softens—not into agreement, but into clarity.
Then the real question returns:
So what now?
What can I contribute that does not multiply harm?
The Real Crisis Is Disconnection
What we are witnessing globally is not only political instability.
It is collective nervous system dysregulation.
Fear spreads faster than truth.
Outrage spreads faster than nuance.
Algorithms amplify division because division is profitable.
When fear dominates, we react.
When anger dominates, we polarize.
When resentment dominates, we dehumanize.
The Buddha said in the Dhammapada (verse 5):
“Hatred is never appeased by hatred.
By non-hatred alone is hatred appeased.
This is an eternal law.”
This is not sentimental idealism.
It is psychological realism.
If we add more hatred to a burning system, the system burns hotter.
If we want safer societies, we must cultivate safer nervous systems.
Empathy does not mean passivity.
Compassion does not mean weakness.
Clarity does not mean neutrality toward injustice.
It means refusing to dehumanize—even when we resist.
It means asking: Does my action reduce suffering—or merely redirect it?
Love, in this sense, is not romance.
It is disciplined humanity.
It is choosing not to let ideology erase the fact that the person in front of you is breathing, aging, fearing loss—just like you.
Ignorance in Buddhism (avijjā) is not stupidity.
It is not seeing interconnection.
Division thrives on the illusion of separateness:
my country vs yours
my ideology vs yours
my freedom vs yours
But no society becomes safer by multiplying enemies.
Love always wins—not because it dominates, but because it sees correctly.
It sees that:
Your suffering destabilizes the world I live in.
Your oppression corrodes the fabric that protects us all.
Your dehumanization eventually makes me less safe too.
Empathy is clarity about interdependence.
Justice must be guided by humanity. Otherwise it becomes another form of domination.
Sometimes it looks like pausing long enough to remember:
Just like me, this person wants safety.
Just like me, this person fears loss.
Just like me, this person has been shaped by forces larger than themselves.
Under that recognition, something shifts.
And that shift is where safer societies begin.
Love always wins only when it is anchored in dignity.
Guided Loving-Kindness Meditation: “Just Like Me”
Step 1 – Begin With Yourself
Sit comfortably.
Take one slow breath.
Silently repeat:
Just like everyone else, I want to be safe.
Just like everyone else, I want to be respected.
Just like everyone else, I want to be free from suffering.
Place a hand on your chest if helpful.
May I be safe.
May I be steady.
May I be free from hatred.
May I learn to love wisely.
Step 2 – Someone You Care About
Bring to mind someone you love easily.
See their face.
Just like me, they want happiness.
Just like me, they fear loss.
Just like me, they are trying.
May you be safe.
May you be healed.
May you live with dignity.
Step 3 – Someone Neutral
Picture someone you don’t know well—
a barista, a colleague, a neighbor.
Just like me, this person carries unseen struggles.
Just like me, this person longs for love.
May you be safe.
May you be at ease.
Step 4 – Someone Difficult
Now, gently bring to mind someone who challenges you.
Do not force warmth. Just recognize humanity.
Just like me, this person was shaped by causes and conditions.
Just like me, this person wants relief from pain.
May you be free from hatred.
May you learn peace.
May we not harm each other.
Step 5 – Expand Outward
Let your awareness widen.
Across borders.
Across race.
Across religion.
Across ideology.
All beings seek safety.
All beings seek love.
All beings fear suffering.
May we learn to see each other.
May love be stronger than division.
Journaling Reflection
What kind of love do I want to embody?
When I love, am I accepting the other as they are—or as I wish them to be?
Where do I confuse intensity with depth?
What would it mean to practice love as discipline, not emotion?
📢Exciting News!: Dear Dharma (ebook/prints) & Online Course
Ever since I left the monastery last summer, I’ve felt more committed to living in alignment with my true self — with clearer vision and less hesitation.
I began sharing more openly about Dharma, Buddhist teachings, and philosophy. I stepped even onto TikTok! (which I definitely cringed at in the beginning…) simply to offer something steady in a space that often feels noisy — for those who might be looking for healthier, more reflective content.
I gathered those reflections, stories, and lived lessons into something slower — a simple handbook of practical insight.
Dear Dharma is something you can return to whenever you need grounding. Something you can read at your own rhythm, pace, and depth — alone, quietly, honestly.
💻E-book on Amazon https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GPLTYB3X
📕The print edition is now available for a signed copy (Shipping to the U.S. and Canada only) https://www.wisdomwayimpact.com/category/all-products
OR the print edition from Amazon direct order.
Buddhist Philosophy & Meditation (Self-Paced Course)
If reflections like this resonate with you, I’ve created a self-paced online course on Buddhist philosophy and meditation.
The course introduces core teachings of the Buddha alongside meditation practices to help you understand the mind, regulate emotions, and cultivate clarity in daily life. Rather than presenting Buddhism as a belief system, it approaches it as a practical training for awareness and resilience with 1-on-1 coaching in a practice group chat.
You can move through the lessons at your own pace and return to the practices whenever you need steadiness or perspective. If you think someone around you could benefit from this learning, feel free to share it with them as well.
