“Courage is the most important of all the virtues because without courage, you can’t practice any other virtue consistently.” – Maya Angelou
IN a society that often expects us to cloak ourselves physically and emotionally, the Korean sauna offers a rare opportunity to do the opposite: to strip down, literally and figuratively, and just be.
As a travel and food enthusiast, I had long heard about the remarkable health benefits of Korean saunas. Stories of detoxification, improved circulation, better skin health, and an overall sense of wellbeing intrigued me. But there was one part I struggled to accept – the requirement to be completely naked.
In many cultures, nudity is reserved strictly for private spaces. Growing up in Malaysia, we were taught modesty, especially in public settings. So the thought of walking unclothed through a communal space felt alien, even intimidating.
Yet, there I was – curious, slightly anxious, but willing. I’d heard so much about the physical and mental rejuvenation that comes with the jjimjilbang (Korean sauna) experience. If millions of locals embraced this practice, surely there was something to learn.
To ease into it, I arrived at the sauna early, hoping to have the space to myself. To my surprise, it was already alive with people. In the changing room, I hesitated momentarily. Then, with no turning back, I followed suit – undressed, placed my belongings in the locker, and stepped forward.
What struck me immediately was how natural it felt for everyone else. Bathers moved about casually, unfazed and unbothered. There was no sense of shame or scrutiny; just an unspoken understanding that we were all there for the same reason: to feel better, to unwind.
After a quick shower, I entered the hot room. The heat wrapped around me like a heavy blanket. And instead of awkwardness, I felt an odd peace. There was no self-consciousness, no comparison, just presence. The sauna was not a place for performance or perfection; it was a sanctuary for letting go.
And somewhere in that steam-filled silence, a thought began to take shape.
The discomfort I had anticipated – borne of cultural differences and personal insecurities – never truly arrived. Instead, I realised that what seems unfamiliar, or intimidating can become natural if we allow ourselves to step into another person’s experience without judgment.
This idea resonated beyond the sauna. It applies to how we communicate, relate, and coexist. How many misunderstandings persist simply because we are too uncomfortable stepping into another person’s perspective? How often do we resist difficult conversations, not because of what’s being said, but because of our own internal hesitations?
The more I embraced the moment, the clearer my mind became. Thoughts aligned instead of colliding. I found myself reflecting not just on cultural norms, but on the nature of human connection. Vulnerability, after all, isn’t weakness. It’s a bridge.
Just like I had done in the sauna, if we allow ourselves to be vulnerable by releasing resistance to the unfamiliar, we may discover that the discomfort we fear is largely imagined. The new, the foreign, the uncomfortable often carry lessons, clarity, and even joy.
Whether it’s adapting to a new environment, engaging in difficult dialogue, or simply understanding a different point of view, the transformation starts within. When we shed the layers of fear or judgment, the unfamiliar becomes approachable. The heat becomes soothing. The silence becomes meaningful. And empathy becomes instinct.
Next time you find yourself hesitating, whether it’s entering a room that feels unfamiliar or engaging in a conversation that feels challenging, remind yourself: things only feel strange until we stop labelling them as strange. Presence and openness turn discomfort into discovery.
And when people are more comfortable, gradually “peeling” the outer layers of their personality through communication, as described in the Social Penetration Theory by Irwin Altman and Dalmas Taylor, they reveal more about their core self, fostering greater trust and intimacy in the relationship.
As I walked out of the sauna that day, my skin flushed, body light, mind calm, I realised something profound: stepping outside your comfort zone doesn’t always mean pushing harder. Sometimes, it simply means letting go.
And perhaps, in a world that encourages us to cover up physically, emotionally, and socially, there’s something quietly powerful about finding the courage to be bare.
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune. The writer can be reached at Shirley.suat@gmail.com.
