Michelle Jungmin Bang's journey from award-winning eco-entrepreneur to wellness advocate spans continents and cultures, bridging innovation with tradition. When her fast-paced life as a successful startup founder led to a health crisis, Bang found herself drawn back to the wellness traditions of her heritage. She spent years researching and documenting centuries-old well-being practices across Asia. The result is her book Sun & Ssukgat: The Korean Art of Self-Care, Wellness & Longevity, which weaves together her personal healing journey with ancient wisdom for modern lives. Bang talked to us about wellness practices from healing broths to the connecting power of jeong, sharing how her path from exhaustion to renewal might help others find their own way to wellness.

Your story begins with a profound personal transformation. How did your cultural heritage shape your perspective on healing and wellness as you embarked on this journey?

My cultural heritage is a blend of East and West experiences, and this was integral in shaping my research and writing about my healing journey in my upcoming book, Sun & Ssukgat: The Korean Art of Self-Care, Wellness & Longevity.

I am a Korean American born and raised in Brooklyn. I grew up in a world of East-West medicine. My father is a US-based doctor trained at a top medical school in Korea. He exposed me very early on to the practical and holistic applications in medicine, which are deeply embedded within Korean culture, for example, using whole foods and holistic measures to recover from surgery, colds, pregnancies, and injuries. Later, I married into a traditional Chinese family that embodied these nourishing traditions passed down generationally. Over the last two decades, my family and I have been splitting our time between Hong Kong and New York City as expatriates.

When I embarked on this journey, I was in Hong Kong. I had just launched a dream social impact startup that experienced tremendous growth, winning awards and major contracts. I was deeply passionate about what I was doing, working around the clock, too busy to sleep or to eat. And in the middle of all that success, I landed in the emergency room for the first time in my life. After the doctors put a camera down my throat and into my stomach, they discovered there was very little of my gut lining that remained healthy. When I returned home from the hospital, I became ill constantly.

The emergency hospital visit led me down a path of trying to explore and learn more, to find a better way to live. Through this, I began to connect the dots with the cultural wisdom I had grown up with and to formalize this knowledge with training and first-hand research. I began uncovering the hidden health gems that were present all around me in Asia, but were not initially apparent to me or in other parts of the world.

In your research, you visited a secluded monastery where the nuns are known for their philosophy about food and spirituality and their temple cuisine? What was the most surprising or transformative lesson you learned from them?

One of the most surprising lessons I learned from the Buddhist nuns in the mountains was how they self-care daily, particularly with the hidden ingredients in their foods. In Korean culture, there is the belief in yak sik dong won, a food-as-medicine philosophy - that when we fall ill, we first try to take in nutritious foods to encourage the body to repair and heal on its own before taking additional interventions like surgery or a pill. The Buddhist nuns embrace self-care, the practice of preventative care, with little steps that they take daily to proactively protect their health and well-being. As I watched them cook, I realized they kept going back to their naturally derived condiments - vessels for persimmon vinegar, sesame and perilla oil, sea salt, and traditionally fermented Korean jangs like soy sauce, gochujang (red pepper paste) and doenjang (soybean paste). For me, this was a lesson in understanding the foundations of my pantry and in what I eat. Now, if I go to a restaurant or go to a grocery store, I will think about the ingredients that went into making that dish and read ingredient lists if I buy anything that comes in a package. If there is anything I know that isn’t great for me - an unhealthy oil, an unnecessary preservative, or food coloring - I will choose something else. The Buddhist nuns taught me so much about mindful self-care.

On Jeju Island, you met the haenyeo, female free divers who harvest seafood and seaweed, holding their breath for up to three minutes at a time. How did they inspire your approach to breathwork and healing?

The haenyeo inspired me to mind my breath, one of the easiest hacks I now employ many times daily. Before meeting them, I realized that I was taking shallow breaths, that is, taking quick, short breaths, which resulted in minimal oxygen intake and not doing much for my body. I have learned to breathe deeply through my nose and then slowly exhale through my mouth. Now, even if I’m standing in line or want to take a break from work, I’ll take a moment to take a deep breath for the mere seconds that this exercise requires, and I can feel my body much more energized with the more effective oxygen intake, and with any unintentional body tension releasing simultaneously.

The haenyeo also live in deep symbiosis with the environment. As they forage for seaweed and seafood for a living, they are intimately engaged with and aware of the challenges we face with the effects of climate change and even trash that gets sent into the ocean. For them, healing is working at one with nature; it is also about building a strong community, one that they can lean on for well-being and resilience, which forms the basis for the mental and physical strength and stamina that is required to dive deep into the waters almost every day, even through their 90s.

What insights did you gain from centenarians in Asia that you believe are universally applicable to well-being?

My views of older age were wiped clean after researching centenarians in Asia. I think we are often exposed through the media and other narratives that older age equates to mental and physical decline. For me, I had an internal marker of 50. But, after two decades of living in Asia, I have witnessed first-hand how the elderly in Asian cultures seem to disprove notions of what is achievable at an older age. Many of the elderly that I regularly encounter stridently defy their old age and show traits of those far younger, including astonishingly smooth skin without wrinkles, flexible joints, thick hair, good vision, physical strength, and lower rates of chronic illness. Before my hospital episode, it never occurred to me to look into why this was so. The greatest common denominator was that they spent most of their time outside their homes, even into their one hundreds. When they are not sleeping, they are moving and active all day, with their minds too. I realized that these individuals hadn’t discovered some magical fountain of youth: Their secret lies in simply embracing a different mentality about older age that gives truth to the adage: “You are only as old as you think you are.”

The concept of jeong is deeply rooted in Korean culture. How can people unfamiliar with it incorporate this philosophy into their daily lives?

In Korean culture, the idea of jeong is ever-present. If you were to find the meaning of jeong in English, you would have to combine many words at once - love, friendship, empathy, compassion, sincerity, loyalty, sacrifice, community, connection, vulnerability, affection, sympathy, warmth, passion, kindness, social responsibility, and generosity of spirit toward humankind. jeong is a collective call in Korean culture to help one another, the invisible bind that ties them through deep connections, even amongst strangers.

People unfamiliar with jeong can incorporate this philosophy by making time to demonstrate a little more kindness to others. In Korean culture, jeong can manifest in what might seem the smallest possible ways- calling a friend, sharing a snack with the homeless, or giving up your seat to someone else on a subway. There have been many studies on longevity demonstrating that strength in relationships - the idea behind jeong - is the most important factor to a healthy lifespan and which rivals changing other lifestyle factors, like smoking or physical inactivity, to promote health.

What role does nature play in the healing practices you discovered, and how can urban dwellers reconnect with it?

I have learned that being in nature is healing. Being outside, taking in fresh air, even dirt, and being in touch with how nature is unfolding through the seasons, are healing. In Seoul, I found that urban planning facilitated healthy living for its citizens, allowing them easy access to the outdoors, even within a major urban center. But, urban dwellers anywhere in the world can experience nature in the outdoors just by walking, or biking, along tree-lined streets or near open water. Nature can also be experienced by shopping at green markets, and supermarkets, where you can see nature’s colorful bounty cropping up each season.

Can you walk us through the significance of some of the recipes in your book, such as your grandmother’s myeolchi broth or the samgyetang?

My grandmother’s myeolchi, or anchovy broth, and samgyetang, or poached whole chicken soup, which my father likes to make, are examples of foods we use for recovery in our Korean heritage. These recipes employ specific ingredients recorded for centuries in our history as medicine, as healing foods for ailments, and to keep the body strong. The myeolchi, for example, uses kombu, which is high in iodine, which is essential for thyroid functioning, iron, and calcium, as well as vitamins A and C. Samgyetang, another example, uses many of the common anti-inflammatory ingredients in Korean culture - ginseng, ginger, and jujubes - to help boost the immune system.

Do you have a favorite healing recipe from your book that is particularly meaningful to you? Why?

One of my favorite healing recipes is a mushroom broth. Before I left the nuns on one of my visits, I asked them what happens when people get sick in the monastery and whether they had any cold or flu remedies to share. They explained that they believe in allowing the body to heal itself first with easy-to-digest foods while they are sick, like juk, as my parents had done, and they drink a healing mushroom broth to help support the recovery period. This healing mushroom broth is something I make all the time now as a main course for lunch or as a side. It not only has a delicious umami flavor, but it also uses healing mushrooms, which have had a long history in Asian cuisine and medicine. The nuns like to use the more exotic mushrooms they forage in the surrounding forests, such as black trumpet, but cooking with varieties like shiitake are also great for staying healthy during cold and flu season. I like to add chilies and lemons for flavor and an extra nutritional and antioxidant boost.

What was the biggest challenge in distilling centuries-old wellness traditions into a format accessible to modern readers?

The biggest challenge was finding some of the ingredients that I discovered deep in Asia while I was in NYC or elsewhere. I discovered solutions to this conundrum in many ways. For example, if I wanted to retain a certain ingredient not found in my local grocery store, like jujubes, I would find them in dried form, which is quite convenient because the dried versions last longer and are easy to implement into a dish once you reconstitute them with a bit of water or place them into a soup or tea. A second example is when I realized I could go back to the health principles of what I was learning. Take for instance the traditional Korean breakfast which is made up of banchan, little Korean side dishes. I realized I could modify this idea by put everything in one plate or bowl and then, take the health concept back to the nutrients being represented, which was a construction of complex carbohydrates, protein and plant nutrients, all of which were savory, versus sweet. These were some of the ways that I was able to make centuries-old wellness traditions into a format more accessible to modern readers but also for myself, someone living in both East and West worlds within a modern lifestyle.

How do you envision the philosophy of your book influencing the next generation of wellness practices?

I wrote Sun & Ssukgat to preserve wisdom that I witnessed fading in the modern world but also to shift our wellness practices from sick care to preventative care. I firmly believe the term self-care needs to be redefined in today's world, and its importance in our well-being philosophies should be brought to light. For centuries in Asia, the well-being philosophy has been to stop sick symptoms before they become chronic and perhaps irreversible. Natural, effective, and even environmentally conscious, these home- spun solutions quietly and radically shift conventional wisdom. Rather than waiting to treat symptoms, we can try to prevent them from occurring in the first place by establishing simple practices from Asia's well traditions.

Through Sun & Ssukgat, I hope to share the mission that embracing new science while preserving the old ways of living - eating local, eating in season, eating real food, reconnecting to nature - could solve many pressing issues our modern world faces today - chronic disease, climate change, and food waste. The World Health Organization estimates that a staggering 70% of global deaths stems from conditions that are preventable. Meanwhile, while we have an estimated 300,000 edible plants in the world, our planet grows dry from overproducing a very small rotation of the same food ingredients, of which roughly 33% is wasted (50% of this happens in our own homes). I firmly believe there the health of our planet and that of humans is interconnected and we can work to achieve a better result in both at the same time by preserving centuries-old well traditions as we move forward with new discoveries.

What is a typical day like for you?

I have a habit of waking up early to make time for myself before anyone else in the household wakes up. I have a glass of water by my night table; then I pair this with warm water from the kitchen, and I like to place a bit of sea salt, fresh ginger, and lemon into it. I know now that what I put into an empty stomach is critical for helping me energize for the day and control cravings, weight, and gut health. I have switched from waking up to my old favorite breakfast of sweetened coffee and almond croissant to espresso without sugar and savory breakfast, which, if I am busy, includes dinner leftovers replete with protein, probiotic-rich sauerkraut or kimchi, and/or vegetables. Then I go for half an hour to do a bit of sweaty hot yoga with weights. The body has its internal medicines to help heal you. You can release these simply by sweating and moving every day. The only other thing I do for movement is to make sure I get steps in. Incorporating walking - and walking outdoors - has been life-changing for me. I’ve never felt better.

Most days, if I start my morning right, the rest of the day follows well. I am intellectually curious, and I like to work with a number of mission-driven organizations and projects, along with parenting two uniquely gifted children. I also want to make time for friends! What I do in the morning and the many self-care steps I have learned to take - for example, taking short breathing breaks or a stretch - enables me to do it all. I also know now that I have so much more time than I thought I had initially if I self-care daily.

Who or what do you look to for inspiration?

I look to my parents for inspiration. I didn't realize until I wrote Sun & Ssukgat how my parents instilled jeong in me, showing me through their deep involvement in the Korean community. Outside of their chosen professions, they led organizations and causes to encourage more Asian representation in media or help fellow immigrants professionalize. I want to follow in their footsteps; I want to help drive positive change through the social impact initiatives I launch, to try to embody the change I wish to see in the world.

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*Edited for length and clarity.

Photo credit: Phoebe Miu. Images provided by HarperCollins