“Reflection, for me, is a bit like coffee.”
I have been procrastinating writing this reflection because—quite frankly—I am not sure what else to say about my internship.
Reflection, for me, is a bit like coffee. Sometimes it pours out effortless, bold and full of flavour. Other times it comes slowly, drip by drip, and I find myself impatiently waiting for the pot to fill. And then there are days, like now, when the mug feels empty and I’m left wondering if there’s anything left to brew at all.
Yet life, of course, if full of reflection. We pause, we sit in silence, and we try to make sense of the experiences unfolding within and around us. I like to think of myself as a fairly reflective person (though I cringe a little at saying this aloud, I find it suitable in this context).
So what does reflection look like for me? For starters, I often find myself wondering how my actions and experiences ripple into the lives of those around me. Reflecting feels innate to growth and learning—it’s how we pause, process, and carry lessons forward. Like a good cup of coffee, it gives us energy to keep moving. I’m reminded of something I grew up hearing: “to stop growing or learning is to be ready to pass on to the next life.” Put simply—you can never (should never) stop growing as long as you are alive.
I can’t credit the original thinker of this sentiment, but I know it’s widely shared. Life offers us endless opportunities to grow—regardless of age or circumstance. Every moment is an invitation to become bolder, better, and, above all, more compassionate.
So why all this context? Because, for the first time, I feel as though I have nothing to reflect on. Not nothing—but nothing that feels meaningful enough to articulate or post about. Don’t get me wrong, my internship has been transformative and inspiring, just as the IHRIP promises to be for students drawn to public lawyering. Yet after writing my first blog post, I find my head empty and my heart strangely still—like a coffee pot that’s run dry.
Have I already lost myself in the public lawyering space? Perhaps that sounds dramatic, but the thought sent me in a mini spiral. In the end, though, I don’t believe I’ve lost myself. I think I’m simply in a season of feeling a little numb, a little preoccupied—though with what, I can’t quite say. What I do know is that this feeling will pass. My passion for advocacy, for amplifying voices, and for being present to others remains intact. The coffee is still there; it just needs time to brew again.
So, what am I doing in the meantime? I am resting. Resetting. Most importantly, I am searching for joy within the uncertainty. Reflection, like coffee, isn’t always about the finished product—it’s about the ritual. Sitting with the mug, taking in the aroma, trusting the warmth will return.
In this moment, I am reminded of an Ethics class reading we did last winter, one by a Professor Jean Koh Peters in her Habit, Story, Delight: Essential Tools for the Public Service Advocate entry. She writes on the importance of joy[1] — reminding us that joy is found in activities that reconnect us to our authentic selves.[2] She writes that joyful activities are “the best thing [lawyers] can do for their clients” – that insight struck me because as an aspiring lawyer, my own well-being and my ability to serve are deeply intertwined.[3] So lately, I’ve been leaning into joy. I’ve been filling my days with music, strumming my guitar, binging my current favourite k-drama When Life Gives You Tangerines (폭싹 속았수다), and spending time with friends and family. Nothing revolutionary—just little sparks of delight, like sips of coffee that keep me grounded and remind me I’m still growing, even in the quiet moments.
So while I may not yet be a lawyer, I choose not to see this as weakness or doubt about my place in the profession. Instead, I see it as an opportunity: to connect more deeply with myself—to refill the pot, to savour the pause, and to trust that the next strong cup of reflection is already on its way.
[1] Jean Koh Peters, Habit, Story, Delight: Essential Tools for the Public Service Advocate (Washington: Washington University Journal of Law & Policy, 2001) pg. 27.
[2] Ibid, at pg. 27.
[3] Ibid.