Why research requires loving the journey

Finding Clarity in Peace

Have you ever noticed how your mind works when you're finally at peace?

Lately, I've had a strong realization: I'm starting to spot problems whether in my research or in daily life much faster than before. Not only that, but the solutions and decisions I come up with have a significantly higher chance of being right. Ideas also seem to come to me more often than they used to.

I saw a small example of this recently in the lab while maintaining our sputtering equipment. A student was talking about using sandpaper to clean the sputtering gun and used the term "chất nhám"/"matter" to describe the worn-down grit of the paper. Immediately, something clicked in my mind. I gently corrected him, explaining that the proper terms to describe the sandpaper's texture and wear are " độ nhám"/"roughness"/"abrasiveness." When I went home later and double-checked, my intuition was confirmed.

Another example came from something as ordinary as making gimbap (Korean seaweed rice rolls) at home. I had been struggling to make my gimbap nicely rounded. At first, I assumed it was simply a matter of lacking the necessary skill. I thought that as long as I followed the instructions, the only thing I needed was more practice. However, when I made the last roll, I added more of the prepared filling that I had left over. To my surprise, it turned out much rounder than the previous ones. It wasn't a sudden improvement in my rolling technique. I realized almost immediately that the problem was simply a matter of volume: having enough filling gave the roll the structure it needed to become nicely rounded.

These were just small moments, but they made me notice a change in the way I think. I'm becoming quicker at spotting discrepancies, identifying possible explanations. More importantly, I seem to be doing this naturally, without having to force myself to think harder or spend so much time worrying about whether I'm doing things right. 

I've come to understand why this is happening. When I am in a comfortable, low-stress environment, I seem to be able to bring out more of my abilities. I also have more time and mental space to reflect on the things happening around me and think about how I can improve my situation. 

A big part of this shift comes from my experience working with undergraduate students. As a Teaching Assistant, having the chance to guide them, share my perspective, and confidently point out corrections has given me a renewed sense of confidence. (I've shared more of these reflection in this post)

It was different previously.

Back when I was studying for my Master’s degree in Seoul, I was far from my best state. I spent most of my time trapped in a loop of constant anxiety and fear. Looking back, I realize that a lot of that pressure was self-imposed. Because my mind was so overwhelmed by stress, I simply didn't have the mental space to step back, notice the root problems in my work, or reflect on everything happening around me.

Enjoying the Process, Not Just Chasing Results

Recently, I watched a panel discussion on PhD journeys that deeply resonated with me MIT CEO LAB Conference 2026: Panel 2 - PhD: Học thuật hay sự nghiệp đa chiều? A professor was asked who should and shouldn't pursue a PhD? He explained that before pursuing a PhD, you should carefully learn about what it involves and, more importantly, understand yourself. The second part, he emphasized, is much more difficult and much more important. You should answer yourself: Are you someone who enjoys the process, or are you someone who mainly cares about the results? During a PhD, you might spend two or three years working on a project without producing a publication. Your work might come close to being published, while another lab manages to publish similar results. These things happen in research. Yet what you learn throughout the journey can be invaluable. That's why people often say that doing a PhD is not simply about studying for a PhD.

Listening to this perspective made me reflect on my own experience. Somehow, I had put myself under so much pressure to achieve results quickly. I constantly compared my progress with that of others. As a result, I wasn't really enjoying the process. Instead, I became afraid whenever my results didn't turn out as expected.

Research as a Journey of Curiosity

Research rarely gives us answers on a predictable timeline. Sometimes, an unexpected result raises a new question that needs to be investigated. Rather than fearing it, we need to stay calm, examine the evidence, and figure out what it is telling us. Research is, after all, to repeatedly search for answers. We cannot always control what we find, but we can learn to approach it with curiosity instead of fear.

This journey has taught me an invaluable lesson: clarity comes from creating the space to breathe. When we quiet the noise and give ourselves room to think, we find it much easier to spot problems, explore new ideas, and discover solutions that were previously hidden.

This realization has also prompted me to think more carefully about my future PhD journey. Finding a supportive advisor and a lab culture that fosters learning, open exploration, and healthy research practices is essential to building an environment where I can thrive. Of course, research will always involve pressure, uncertainty, and setbacks. No lab can guarantee that everything will go smoothly. But I believe the right environment can make a difference in how we respond to these challenges and how far we can grow from them.

Hanoi, October 12, 2026