Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Stepping Into the Rearview Mirror
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.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Templestays: More Than You Might Anticipate
The following was originally an article written for a Korean website:
Peace. Relaxation. Excellent food and the creation of it. Observation and appreciation of natural beauty. Unique and stimulating activities. Cultural, social, and religious education. Opportunities to learn new things and to exercise that knowledge.
Each individual templestay is incomparable and every program offers different activities. However, some common themes are pervasive: gorgeous architecture and scenery, ample meditation time, various arts and crafts – most certainly including prayer bead (mala) making, and food preparation and consumption.
While a bit of frustration and/or confusion are natural reactions when confronted with new challenges, an attitude of openness and willingness will greatly improve your experience. Remember that you will be a guest of the temple in which you’re visiting, and so it’s highly recommended that you approach your stay in a way that recognizes the generosity of your hosts. Afterall, many people throughout the world contend that a temple’s primary objective is to teach us tolerance and acceptance.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Expat-turned-Backpacker's Lessons Learned
14. Everyone's a student.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Chivalry in the Dark Ages
Since Sir Matalot's native UPR had always been his only home, he was incapable of noticing anything peculiar about the ways of his land, for he had a rather slight basis of comparison to anywhere else. He was a naturally inquisitive man, but wasn't especially skilled in the arts - especially in navigation or voyaging, although he was quite interested in these sorts of things; and deep in the recesses of his being, he knew that lands terrifically different than his own existed somewhere out in the unknown. Such places he longed to see, and in them resided people he wanted to meet.
Upon his completion of the formal required training period in the UPR, Sir Matalot took a moment to analyze his life station. For ages, he had frequently dreamt tales of faraway times and places commonly recounted by a lifetime's worth of companions. For multitudes of those who came before Matalot told grand anecdotes of courage, adventure, heroism, and fortitude - and Sir Matalot wished to generate his own stories like the ones he heard.
Heeding the universe's call, our intrepid wannabe explorer then set out on a course to learn anything & everything he possibly could about other lands he might be able to visit. He directed more specific questions to acquaintances who had traveled before him by various methods to all manner of places. Matalot was most interested in the stories involving traveling to bizarre places of other eras, and so decided he would embark on a similar journey. He compiled a sizable list of potential sites and finally made up his mind: he would spend two years exploring an ancient land called the Perublic of Rokea (or shorthandedly, simply Rokea). Rokea was a charming place full of traditions unlike his own, and in it, housed countless locations & people which Matalot immensely wished to greet. Throughout his great excitement and anticipation, he maintained a sharp awareness that he would forever remain a Provincian, and as such, endlessly be seen as an outsider in the land of Rokea, and he must never forget his people or his birthplace.
During his stay in Rokea, Sir Matalot never abandoned his curious nature and tremendously enjoyed learning about the interesting thoughts of Rokeans and their unusual ways of completing tasks. He came to realize that these people were fundamentally much similar to the Provincians he knew, but they constantly demonstrated new and fascinating sides of humanity - which left a lasting impression on Matalot. In spite of this huge positivism, Sir Matalot oftentimes became frustrated in his new home since the culture to which he was accustomed and their related worldviews were vastly different than the ones in this new place. It took a considerable length of time, but the constant barrage of odd instances in Rokea eventually caused our hero to deeply miss his homeland. Perhaps he just wasn't habituated to Rokea's ways. Or maybe it was because he didn't fully understand the Rokean philosophies behind their foreign practices, which subsequently required the apparent peculiar hierarchies of this civilization - other things that Matalot was unable to comprehend.
Nonetheless, examples like http://www.viralviralvideos.com/2010/10/04/old-korean-woman-attacks-teenage-girl-on-korean-subway/ became a daily unavoidable occurrence to Sir Matalot in the land of Rokea. These types of actions never took place in the UPR, and Matalot tried and tried, but he kept falling short of a complete understanding.
Several aspects of our hero's UPR quickly became evident to Sir Matalot. For one, Matalot came to appreciate that he had generally taken for granted his familiarity with his homeland, and he now became certain that Provincian ways were comparably more advanced than those of Rokea. You see, the relatively longer existence of UPR culture allowed the civilization to experience shifts in its collective identity. These changes were the product of realizations of wrongs innately created by humanity. The corporate shifts began in the form of movements, gained widespread acceptance in the land's citizenship, and ultimately led to amendments in the civilization's laws. Rokea's shorter cultural history hadn't provided it with the opportunities to yet accomplish these kinds of things.
There was also the universally relevant topic of personal defense. People in every time and every place have realized that not all people's interests always agree with each other. And when disagreements occur, opposing parties occasionally get angry and conflicts (along with the occasional violence) ensue. So people began forming tools in order to protect themselves and their interests. However upsetting as the fighting might be, violence and weaponry have become inextricably linked with all civilizations. In their daily lives, Rokeans still relied on primitive tools.
Some examples of Rokean devices:
In the more advanced UPR civilization, personal defense was still a concern for residents, but they faced different circumstances that, in turn, called for unique weaponry and related uses. Following completion of training, each citizen was issued an individualized self defense item. These items came in many forms: some were bigger than others or more powerful or more or less accurate than others. They were all specialized for particular situations and reflected each citizen's unique style of training and level of skill. Sir Matalot was equipped with a common Provincian device - that is, commonly used in his native land, but quite unlike anything seen in Rokea.
Sir Matalot carried a UPR-issued directed energy weapon:
This isn't to say that Rokean and UPR's social and moral structures were completely opposite, but the lands' systems were greatly different. Rokean culture wasn't better or worse than any other. And similarly, Rokean personal defense capabilities were far from non-existent, but not on par with those of UPR. They were just perfectly dissimilar.
Sir Matalot befriended many fellow travelers in his new temporary home. Some of these new acquaintances came from other distant advanced societies, ones that also held the resource capabilities that allowed for time travel from their homes to places like Rokea. Most of these people were also equipped with devices strange to Rokea, and they all met comparable struggles as Sir Matalot. One such difficulty was that Matalot's UPR-issued self defense weapon didn't operate properly in Rokea. Apparently, Provincian devices needed a constant supply of UPR energy to remain useful, and so they only maintained their maximum effectiveness when kept and used within UPR boundaries.
A Provincian with an inoperable weapon, and hence unable to protect himself, would naturally feel exposed. Thus, as was the case with Sir Matalot in the Perublic of Rokea. In addition to feelings of vulnerability, Matalot was also often bothered when he had to stand idly by whenever one Rokean took advantage of another Rokean. He didn't understand why someone would do this to a fellow citizen. But nevertheless, he was helpless in these kinds of situations - for his UPR device was useless and, even when occasionally partially effective, had no success when it met Rokean defenses.
One particular day as Sir Matalot boarded the local transportation carriage, he witnessed an especially remarkable event. When stepping into the coach, he was pleased to come face to face with a beautiful young Rokean woman. They briefly acknowledged each other, then carried on with their preoccupations. Directly behind Matalot, a nobleman entered the carriage. Likewise to Matalot, the nobleman was comparably smitten by the young woman. And being in a position of authority and - as such - enjoying an air of entitlement, the nobleman began to make a series of advancements toward the young woman. She made attempts to tell the nobleman that she was not interested in his urges, but he continued to press forward and became increasingly aggressive - for, afterall, his status was superior to hers, and Rokean custom called for a lesser person's compliance with any demands of a superior. Unless a person of higher rank overrules.
Once again, Sir Matalot was forced to sit back, watch, and remain powerless throughout the entire situation. For this was the way of the Rokean people, and they could handle their business internally. And even if he wanted to intervene, he knew that his weapon would be ineffective and he would be effortlessly dispatched. But, just then, another nobleman bravely came to the rescue! He had overheard the commotion and promptly ran to the damsel's aid. Brandishing his weapon, the lady's savior chased off the offender and saved the day.
Meanwhile in his role as the quiet observer, Sir Matalot was overcome with a sense that justice had been upheld that day. Although he wasn't the hero in this story, he didn't seem to care. For what he saw that day shined a light on the goodness of the Rokean people and filled him with a peace of mind that he had never felt about the Rokean way of life. Furthermore, he now felt a confidence that everything was the way it should be and that everyone, everywhere would be just fine. He also knew that if decency existed where he never expected it to be, things would surely be as peaceful as ever back in the UPR.