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[Netflix When Life Gives You Tangerines Review #2] Those Raised with Care, and Those Who Remain There
The Original Meaning of “Raised with Care”
These days, when people hear the phrase “raised with care,” they often take it as sarcasm. It’s commonly used to mean someone who doesn’t understand how the world works, who has never gotten their hands dirty, who lacks a sense of reality. But the original meaning was different: a person who grew up without deprivation—someone relatively free from violence, chronic anxiety, or fundamental lack. That is not a flaw; it is, in fact, a form of good fortune.
The Problem Is “Staying” There
The real issue isn’t someone who was raised with care, but someone who remains there. Someone who refuses to learn, who resists adapting to the rhythm of new relationships, who places their own way of doing things at the center of the world.
Emotional Immaturity, and the Character Geum-myeong
In the drama, Geum-myeong gets stuck at exactly that point. She interprets even the simple act of serving a bowl of hot soup to an elder as “oppression from an outdated era,” and regards household work as “shackles that block self-development.” But this is less a problem of the times and more a matter of emotional immaturity.
Housework Is the Language of Relationships
Housework is not merely labor. It is the ability to sense another person’s needs and to attune yourself to the rhythm of a shared space. It is both a skill and an emotional language—ultimately a process of learning how to sustain relationships. The moment it is treated as trivial, relationships begin to collapse.
Different Generations, the Same Structure
What’s interesting is that the mother-in-law Geum-myeong criticizes is also trapped in her own certainty. The mother-in-law believes, “The way I’ve lived is right,” while Geum-myeong believes, “Living true to myself is right.” Neither is willing to compromise. In other words, the generations are different, but the structure is the same. Both judge the other solely from within their own self-centered worldview.
Maturity Comes from Attitude, Not Background
In the end, the issue isn’t the background of being “raised with care,” but whether one has the willingness to learn. Someone raised with care can still learn. Even if they’re not good at it right away, they can seek a middle ground. What matters is the attitude that says, “I don’t know yet, but I’m willing to learn.” That single sentence is often enough to mend most cracks in a relationship.
The Line Between Virtue and Arrogance
Being raised with care is a virtue. Refusing to learn, however, is arrogance. The mother-in-law and Geum-myeong, forgetting this, stood on the same ground while blaming each other. In the end, maturity is not a matter of era, but of attitude.
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Fractal Structures
Today, I went up the small mountain behind our house. Originally, I had planned to go during my designated “Sunday health-care time” (though these days, since my condition hasn’t been great, almost every hour feels like health-care time, haha). My mom suggested we go together today, so I agreed and followed along.
We walked up the hiking trail and reached a resting area where there were some exercise machines. Among them was one of those devices where you’re not quite sure whether it’s meant for sit-ups or for hooking your legs in and lying back at an angle to get a sort of inverted effect. At my mom’s suggestion, I tried lying on it once. I held onto a rope with my hands to keep from sliding down and looked up at the sky. The view was exactly like this. My eyes felt refreshed, and the sound of birds was pleasant to listen to. The insects were annoying, but while I was lying there, they didn’t really bother me. Maybe when I get a bit healthier, I’ll try hiking more often. It really does make you think that people are meant to live near greenery—and maybe that’s why houses near green spaces are so expensive.
As I lay there looking at the sky filtered through tree branches, I noticed a similarity within complexity. “Was it called a fractal index?” Humans are said to feel more comfortable when experiencing a certain level of complexity. This is because the structure of the brain resonates with the structure of nature. Natural forms—tree branches, leaves, mountain ranges, clouds—generally have fractal structures. A fractal dimension (or complexity index) refers to forms that are irregular yet self-similar, possessing complexity beyond simple repetition.
If a straight line (one dimension) is defined as 1.0, and a completely filled plane as 2.0, then tree branches fall somewhere in between. The complexity index of a scene like this is estimated to be around 1.6–1.8.
Brain waves—especially alpha and theta waves—are also analyzed as signals with fractal characteristics. When we look at fractal structures in nature, the visual cortex of the brain can process the richest information with the least amount of energy. According to research by Richard Taylor, viewing images with a fractal dimension of around 1.3–1.5 can reduce stress levels by up to 60%.
Things that are either completely simple or excessively complex tend to make us anxious. Natural fractal structures are complex yet retain a degree of predictability. From these patterns, our brains receive a sensory signal that says, “This is safe and familiar.”
There’s also an interesting perspective here. The way the sky peeks through leaves and branches can psychologically provide a sense of sensory protection. In psychoanalytic terms, it has been compared to the structure of perceiving the outside world from within the womb. (Why does psychoanalysis so often resort to metaphors involving the womb or sexual organs? These are metaphors and terms that can feel uncomfortable or delicate to use in everyday language. Is it the result of an unfiltered contemplation of the human psyche?)
In any case, I will likely live my entire life being vulnerable to stress. It’s possible to manage symptoms that interfere with daily life, but the concept of a “complete cure” doesn’t really apply, because the past doesn’t disappear. In that sense, although the illness was shaped by environmental factors, it wouldn’t be wrong to view it as a kind of biological imprint. Still, with proper treatment and care, I can live as someone who is simply a bit more sensitive and cautious than others. With good management, I can live as someone who is just a little more delicate and thoughtful than most.
So I wondered: even if it’s not real nature, could there be a way to use this in psychotherapy? If I expose myself to fractal structures, wouldn’t that help with stress management? And if stress is managed better, might that lead me to become a more delicate and considerate person? So I looked into it.
- Nature Scientific Reports (2017): A group that watched VR-rendered forests or beaches for five minutes showed a statistically significant reduction in stress levels—comparable to being in real nature.
- Lancet Planetary Health (2021): Experiencing VR natural environments significantly reduced depression, anger, and fatigue within 5–15 minutes, while increasing vitality.
A related theory is Attention Restoration Theory, which suggests that nature stimulates gentle attention, allowing depleted concentration to recover. Nature recreated through VR follows the same pathway, relieving mental fatigue.
According to game psychologist Rachel Kowert, nature in games functions differently from real nature—it is perfectly controlled and safe. For people with PTSD or anxiety disorders, it can serve as a non-threatening environment.
There are also cases where immersive natural art, such as TeamLab’s installations, uses the interaction of light and nature to create a sense of vitality and help restore a sense of self-presence.
In the U.S. and the U.K., installing digital nature—moving forests, waves, wind sounds—in hospital lobbies and patient rooms has become a trend in hospital architecture, aimed at reducing perceived pain, accelerating recovery, and easing anxiety. This approach is known as biophilic design.
As these examples show, even without going directly into nature, we can encounter fractal structures through “constructed nature,” and this can help with stress recovery and restoring a sense of self. This isn’t just true for someone with C-PTSD like me—it applies to all humans. Everyone lives carrying their own forms of hardship and stress. Perhaps even taking a short break while watching videos of natural scenery and sounds on YouTube can provide a sufficient moment of recovery.
What’s interesting is that recovery doesn’t mean complete rest. We feel comfort and recover within fractal structures because they provide an appropriate, manageable level of stress. In other words, recovery doesn’t happen in a place entirely devoid of stimulation or stress. It happens—though the threshold differs from person to person—in environments that offer tolerable, enriching stress.
#Thoughts_No_20250606
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[Netflix ‘When Life Gives You Tangerines’ Review #1] Housework Is a Human Language
Why does “being good at housework” get criticized?
These days, when someone says, “He’s good at housework,” there’s almost always someone who immediately pushes back, calling it a “patriarchal expression.” I don’t agree. Housework isn’t something you do because you’re told to; it’s an everyday skill you naturally learn out of respect for the people you live with.
Consideration is not a habit, but a sensibility
I’m a man, but at the table I always serve the elders first, fill others’ bowls before my own, and take my food last. That wasn’t a habit so much as a way of caring for the people I was with. I learned long ago that when others are comfortable, I am too.
“Attentiveness” is not an outdated virtue
Yet in the drama, Geum-myeong feels awkward even serving a bowl of sungnyung to elders at a formal family meeting. That in itself isn’t wrong. The problem is that she seems to regard such acts as trivial—as if consideration and attentiveness were outdated virtues. To me, that attitude felt immature.
Housework is about reading the rhythm of life
Knowing housework means knowing the rhythm of daily life: who’s hungry, who’s about to stand up first, how the atmosphere at the table is shifting. That requires emotional sensitivity and practical awareness to work at the same time. It’s not simply about being good at cleaning or doing the dishes. It’s a form of everyday intelligence that combines empathy, etiquette, and responsibility toward others.
Not oppression, but the aesthetics of relationships
Serving food to elders, clearing the table, noticing someone’s discomfort before it’s spoken—these are not acts of oppression. They’re the aesthetics of relationships. Those who haven’t learned them aren’t victims of their era; they simply haven’t yet learned the skills of living together.
The skills of living together
That’s why I still believe this: whether you marry or live together or not, regardless of gender—housework is a language that reveals human maturity. Those who dismiss it as trivial are, in the end, people who don’t know how to read others.
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