First of all, I'm plagued with a bit of sadness to know that this may be my final entry in this Korea blog. At the very least, almost certainly it will be the last one I write from this amazing place. Although really, similar notions have been considered several times before. And undoubtedly - once a writer, always one. Probably. So fear not, dear Reader! You can't get rid of me that easily..
Anecdotally:
Upon my return to Asia, the first question on everyone's minds was a take on "so after living over here for 2+ years, what has recently been the biggest shock/difference/coolest/most interesting thing about home?". And my answer to any version of that inquiry, in order of degree, was: 1) operating vehicles and other machinery, 2) the prevalence of weapons, and 3) food and beverage options. And of course, incidentally, family and dogs, gun-related crimes and homicides, and the global obesity epidemic.
You see, I had finally left Korea 6 months ago for what was to be... well, forever. But since that departure, I have been constantly nagged by a reminder to make good on a promise to myself and friends to return to this side of the world someday soon.
I can't seem to shake the idea that there is something insanely innocent and pleasingly magical in a place where the number of cornerstore coffee shops is greater than the combined square footage of all the McDonald's restaurants, inhabitants wear scripted tshirts while having no clue (or obvious care) the meaning of its words, a medical exam - including diagnosis and treatment - costs a mere $9 for an uninsured ear, and the general population is unable to ascertain the difference between a 30-something average American guy and the - nearly decade his senior - British heartthrob, Jude Law.
Back to the task at hand:
It's a unique and indescribable feeling to know that an incredible era of life has come to an end. It's weird to look back on it. And the strangeness is all the more intense when you reenter that space after a time - and feel that same place, smell its smells, observe the familiarity and the unquestionable novelty. And most of all, you confirm the reality that things will never be what they were during the glory days that you so admire. I imagine that the emotions involved in this process are equal, regardless of the particular circumstances - whether that period for you was positive or negative, unbearable or fun, easy or forgettable, worthwhile or difficult, draining or fulfilling. Personally, the two years that I spent in Korea provided a brief glance into all of those things.
Analyzing the mirror and its reflection is always just as much scary or unsettling as it is exciting or englightening. And a basic understanding of the human mind shows us why this is so. It doesn't take a doctorate in psychology to see that we are all VERY good at dissecting the past and even inevitably second-guessing ourselves.
Through this experience, I'm reminded of at least two self-created traps that we set for ourselves: regret and the longing for permanence. Relating to the former, I believe that there are very few things in our individual histories that we should feel sorry for either doing or passing up. In fact, guilt stemming from either scenario can be equally useless or damaging. Sure, in hindsight there will always be missed opportunities or chances neglected. But try to imagine how skewed the present would be, had even one small decision been made differently or an entire course if action been steered another way. Further, there fails to be an accurate value measurement for anything imaginary or nonexistent! So how could we ever make a comparison, when only one occurrence exists? Armed with this knowledge and being confident that we lived fully and to the best of our abilities, why then should we ever be less than satisfied with our current reality or the person we have become? Under this prism, regretfulness becomes a tremendous waste of time and energy.
As for the unchanging nature of people, places, and situations...guess what? Don't believe it for a second, because the prospect is an utter falsehood. In this sense, clinging to an outdated ideal of what something WAS won't get you very far. Permanence is reserved for the past and above all, things are what they are moment by moment. And undeniably, people will change, acquire new commitments and interests, and/or move entirely. Thus, places evolve and landscapes morph.
In this way, the same circumstances, variables, and their combinations will never meet in the exact way they have more than once. Let's even say that we should meet with the same exact group, in precisely the same setting, all the extras and situations are the exact same, and the surroundings oddly haven't changed a bit. Even then, something has - without a doubt - grown or shifted or been altered. As you can surely guess, that is the most important person, and coincidentally, the only one we have the ability of controlling: OURSELVES! And so it becomes quite apparent that lightning will never strike in the same place, with the same strength, in the same manner twice. In actuality, it was quite unlikely that it actually ever happened at all. So be glad for the thunderstorm; that the skies somehow, someway, and for some reason chose your feet as a target; and that you obviously had the wherewithal to survive, possibly even thrive, through it all. In spite of all of these storms, or perhaps ultimately essentially because of them, we transform into the people who we are today. And I hope that's never regrettable.
The King of Pop put it best when he recommended where to start improving the world. And no message could have been any clearer.
