Baby steps into Buddhism

Late one night sitting at my computer searching for a respite from the commotion of my emotions of trying to live and love two different worlds, I stumbled upon a possible place to find some peace. Enlightened by this discovery, I immediately booked a reservation for an overnight "temple stay" at Magoksa. The information said that at Magoksa they practice Zen Buddhism and offer a program called 'compassion meditation' -- the perfect thing for what I needed right zen. As it turned out, the date I chose to participate was already full with a travel club of other westerners, and so I would have to join their group in order to secure a spot in the program. Slightly darkened by this news, I reluctantly agreed and tried to look on the bright side of the situation. Sure enough, the highlight shown when I learned that there would be an English translator. Alas, I would be able to get the full benefit of my budding Buddhist education and experience.
From the moment I boarded the bus I felt a sense of calm come over me, and with each passing kilometer, my heart and head began to balance and I enjoyed being quiet and taking in the spring scenery. It was like a "moving meditation" that lasted about an hour and a half. When it was over, I had arrived in a small mountain village called Gong-ju where I walked up a steep driveway dotted with independent vendors selling an incredible array of dried roots, leaves, beans and rice, and handing out small paper cups of hot tea. Never one to pass up a cup of tea, I accepted the offering and followed the Korean worshipers up the hill to the main gates of Magoksa.
The temple was founded in 640 and has never suffered any damage from any major war. It is tucked into the side of Mt. Taehwasan and surrounded by rivers that curve into a yin-yang shape. The grounds have been carved out under a canopy of ancient trees in a feng-shui fashion with a central focus being the 5-story Ocheung Stone pagoda. The top of the pagoda is decorated with bronze, a style influenced by the Lama Buddhist sect of Tibet, and there are said to be only 3 such structures left in the world.
Once inside the gates, I found the temple stay office and registered as part of the foreigner's group and was issued the traditional uniform made of heavy cotton -- brown, drawstring pants and a pale peach smock, and was told to find a pair of slipper-like shoes from the rack outside. While donning my weekend wear, I heard a stampede of footsteps and an avalanche of English outside. Ah yes, the rest of "my" group had arrived. In came over 40 westerners, the majority of who were from the U.S., a handful from Canada and Europe, and lo and behold, 4 of them were people I know who are teachers at my school! So much for the peace and quiet. I decided to stick to the program of "compassion meditation" and tried my best to "let it go", "find my inner peace" and project the compassion to the others that were now a part of my first real Buddhist experience. All in all, I think the group managed a decent mix of committed reverence and comic relief.
Soon we are ushered into a central hall that later becomes the women's dormitory to have our first lesson in Buddhist behavior. First, the head monk gives general announcements, basic guidelines and the schedule of the program while our translator paraphrases. After the business is taken care of, we learn how to sit, pray and bow before we are taken to the communal prayer room to practice. In this aged architecture are 3 massive statues of Buddha all aglow from the reflection of the plethora of pillar candles on their lustrous golden surfaces. The sweet scent of incense hangs in the room as we enter and take our positions in front of our floor mats. The monk commences the afternoon prayer with three strikes of a bamboo baton against a fish-shaped wooden instrument. Whenever we hear this trio of hollowed sound we are to perform the traditional bow -- palms pressed together, fingers pointing up, elbows out to the sides, then bend deeply from the waist and return to an upright stance. Easy enough. Everyone is feeling encouraged and eager to learn more.
So we progress to the ritual of prayer bowing and chanting. What actually occurred during this practice was more like prayer bawling and ranting, as it requires some real physical effort and coordination. Following the head monk's actions, we assume the standing bow position and then drop to our knees, sit back on our feet, bend forward to put our forehead on the mat with our arms along side of our heads, palms facing down. Then slightly lifting our forearms off the mat we turn our wrists so that our palms face upward next to our ears for a second or two and then place them back down. Scooping our hands back into prayer position we sit upright on our knees and put our feet under our bodies and resume a standing position. The 'bawling and ranting' truly began when we learned that we would be performing this action 108 times at 4:00 o'clock the next morning!
After this Buddhist-style P.E. class, there was about an hour and a half of recess and art-therapy back in the central hall. Set up on 5 sahngs (floor-level tables) were different arts and crafts stations that would allow the inner-child to be creatively expressed. Choices included making paper lotus lanterns and flowers, stringing wooden bead bracelets or necklaces, painting Buddhas or decorating a wooden medallion hanging from a leather cord. I not only created a colorful lotus flower, but also strung 4 bracelets consisting of 27 beads each to symbolize the 108 bows & vows I would take tomorrow morning. Then, it was time to convene in the dining hall for a delicious buffet of bibimbap -- a traditional vegetarian dish of rice and vegetables. We were allowed to take as much as we wanted, but the Buddhist tradition says that you must eat everything you take. Food should never be wasted. Bibimbap is one of my favorite Korean dishes, so I loaded up on it and topped it off with sliced bananas and rice cakes. Not a crumb left in my bowl.
Just before sundown, the second Buddhist teaching and tradition was taught to us through a rhythmic ritual of drum beating and bell ringing. Under a grand gazebo painted in the same way as Korean royal palaces, were four gigantic instruments suspended from the ceiling used to awaken the enlightenment of all beings in the universe. For example, the massive drum was played first for all life on the earth, next a hollow wooden fish-shaped gong for all underwater beings, and then a large copper plate in the shape of a cloud to protect all things that fly, and finally an enormous resonant bell to ring the spirits of goodwill to all. On that note, we all were allowed to participate in the bell ringing rite, which took 4 people each to accomplish.
With our ears still ringing with goodwill, we retreated to the prayer room for evening prayer, followed by a walking meditation and then onto a chat session with the head monk. Through this question and answer period we learned much about the head monk and his journey to enlightenment, other aspects of living the Buddhist life, and the history and progression of the temple itself. As our bedtime of 9pm neared, we wrapped up the evening by each of us writing our personal wish on a card that was provided to us complete with an alligator clip on one end. With our wish held dearly between our prayer-positioned hands, we formed a procession line outside and encircled the the stone pagoda 7 full times. Then uncoiling our line, we proceeded to a bridge strewn with lanterns where each of us chose one from which to hang our wish card. With Buddha's birthday only a month away, the temple grounds had been decorated with hundreds of these neon-colored lanterns, lining every pathway and surrounding every structure. So having said our prayers and made our wishes, we were ready for bed now. The 30 or so girls gathered our bedding and padded down in the central hall. Even though the call for "lights out" was 9pm, it took another 45 minutes for the gabbing to cease before the first real moments of peace and quiet were finally upon us.
Morning came quickly with a 3am wake up call of drum beating and chanting. We were given 30 minutes to wake up, wash up and get to the prayer room for the pre-prayer prayer. Most were on time with only a few sleepy stragglers "bowing out" and waiting for us to return to the central hall for the 108 bows & vows. Bowing is central to the Buddhist tradition and these 108 bows are performed every morning of a monk's life. Therefore, they are fit and ready for this morning ritual and carry it out with great ease and incredible speed. Fortunately, the temple had an English video that recited each vow and also showed the number of each vow along with the text as a subtitle to each frame. Unfortunately, we were up and down so fast that everything became a blur.
Some of the more portly participants worked up a sweat and could not complete the "exercise". As for me, I was starting to get winded when we reached the 100 mark, but with only 8 more to go, I pressed on and was proud to have performed the entire ritual. Thankfully, we were given a 10 minute break and then a 30-minute 'sit' with the question, "who am I" as the focus of this Zen meditation practice. During that time, the only answer that came to mind was: I am sleepy and hungry and anxious for the "special breakfast" that was forthcoming.
Barugongyang is a communal Buddhist meal service that is a unique and special way of eating in Korean temples. Usually at this monastic meal, the food is eaten in total silence and not a single grain of rice is wasted. However during our experience, the ceremonial aspects had to be explained, demonstrated and translated so that we could participate fully and respectfully. Yet when the meal was finished, and the monk explained that we would wash each of our bowls with the water that had been poured for us and then drink that water, several temple-stayers wanted to "bow out" again. Too late. For Buddhist monks Barugongyang is not just eating; it is a way to discipline the mind. Everyone eats together and the same foods, teaching equality and self-control. It also teaches not to desire food, only take it as a way of sustaining your body in order to live. A lesson 95 percent of the Americans in the midst needed to learn!
As part of fully experiencing the Buddhist life, and as a way to earn our keep, we divided into chore groups after breakfast and set about to clean up our act. Some of us swept the floors and porches, while others surveyed the grounds for litter and trash and the rest of us re-washed the breakfast bowls. This time with soap and water that we did not have to drink.
Still very early, the sun was just coming up casting a bluish gray haze over the temple and Mt. Taehwasan--time for a silent sunrise hike to the top of the mountain to find some harmony with nature. The hike could be considered strenuous since we were wearing slipper-shoes, not hiking boots, but the scenes and sounds of daybreak were some of the most magical moments of my 24-hour sojourn to Magoksa. The descent went rapidly with many of us "sliding" down the side of the majestic mound, dodging moguls of tree roots and catching arches of plant life to slow us down. My approach was to walk sideways like a crab digging the side of my plastic slipper into the incline in front of me. It was effective in that it kept me upright, and it has been said that I can be "crabby" before my first cup of tea in the morning.
Thankfully, I reverted into a real human being and my true tea-loving self immediately upon our arrival at the temple below. Evidently, they saved the best (event) for last with the traditional tea ceremony. We convened in a small room and followed the demonstration of how to properly brew and serve traditional temple tea. Here again we washed the dishes and pots with the remaining water and combined it all into one central vat. What was done with that "tea-water", I don't know, but I didn't stay long enough to find out. Instead, the group headed to the prayer room for the closing prayer before we were set free to shop at the small gift shop and have our farewell feast in the dining hall.
While this overnight excursion was more commercialized and irreverent than I had hoped for, I am not deterred from finding the perfect place to pursue my interests in Buddhism. After all, it is a practice, and "practice makes perfect".

HIGHlight of Spring

For several weeks a wayward winter has been wafting back and forth across Daejeon with enough of a bite to keep most of us battling with head colds and bundled up like Eskimos. I was first in line at my school to come down with the flu, but was determined not to let it floor me. In an effort to rise above it, I took myself to the nearest mountain for a hike. By this time, the cold and crisp March had given way to an aspiring April and I decided it was time for some fresh air and a new outlook. So, I boarded a bus bound for Bomunsan (Bomun Mountain), a place referred to as Daejeon's natural city park. Perhaps I departed at an unusual stop but I did not see any crowded city park nor the paved pathways my compatriots had confirmed in their accounts of previous visits. What I found was an idyllic outcropping at the edge of this incredibly-alive city. A place I was sure I could indulge in an afternoon of solitude, serenity and scenery. So, I set out in my usual pace and even with my congested condition, I scaled the steep and rugged stairway to the summit rather quickly and claimed victory as mine at more than 457 meters above sea level.
On my winding way up, I stopped to check a map to see which of the two peaks I was destined to reach first. As I pondered over the pictorial plat, a genial gentleman appeared and seemed to be trying to give me directions. We engaged in a first round of verbal gymnastics before he finally took my elbow and lead me to yet another sign I could not read. However, he was adamant about helping me ascend this urban foothill, and managed to flag down four friends to assist. Each eager to dole out their directions, they did so enthusiastically, but entirely in Korean! As my eyes played ping pong, darting from one speaker to another in this Korean chatter box, a quizzical look had frozen on my face, and it was at that point that the gracious guide and his Korean cohort proceeded to escort me all the way to the top of this metropolitan mountain.
This generous gentleman spoke about as much English as I do Korean, but for the last 150 meters of the hike up, and the whole 457 meter-descent, my new friend, Yung-jun and I coaxed, cajoled and communicated with each other about everything under the sun while over the entire city of Daejeon. Although my idea of a quiet walk in the woods turned out to be more of a meeting of minds on a mountain, my original goals were met -- I found Yung-jun to be a breath of fresh air, and the culmination of the climb to offer a new outlook on why I am here in Korea.

Culture Talk

On the city streets, riding in the back seat of a taxi, crowded on a city bus, seated at a sahng (floor-table) in a restaurant, ambling the aisles of the grocery store, walking to school, over the phone, in my office...absolutely everywhere, I observe and absorb this colorful culture in which I now exist. While I won't pretend to love everything I have noticed or convince you that I warmly embrace all that I see, I offer the following observations and my embryonic experience at understanding the Korean society from a culture sharing, not culture shocking perspective.
Yeah or Nay
Let's start on a positive note, and what could be more positive than the word "yes", or "nay" as it is pronounced in Korean. Korean people use this word incessantly, especially in conversations. They nod and interject "nay" after every other word I speak. Coming from a western society, I understand this phenomenon to mean that I should get to the point of my story more quickly or shut up. You know how it goes -- you start a story and within the first few details uttered, the other party says, "yeah, yeah, yeah...what about it" (meaning: get to the point or move on, and if you can't do it quickly, then shut up). So to rid this cultural (language) baggage that I have brought with me to Korea, I begin to sever my sentences mid-way to let the Koreans have the floor. Of course, in my attempt to accommodate their discussion desires, I wind up confusing the Koreans who, I find out later, use this word as an indicator that they are intently listening and understanding and 'positively' want me to continue. So, all in favor of this communication concept, say "nay"!
Gross Irony
With the strange winter weather and suddenly being in the midst of hundreds of kids each day, many of us teachers have come down with colds. As we pass this infliction and information around, I learn that culturally speaking, we would totally "blow it" if we were to dispense our nasal congestion into a tissue (that is, blow our nose) while in the company of our Korean counterparts. Evidently, the Koreans consider this act terribly rude and most definitely would think of us as quite snotty. However, they do not think a thing of relieving themselves of excess mucus at anytime or in any public place, as I have seen the most glamorous and classy-looking Koreans walking or standing on the crowded city streets where, in one fell swoop, they form a giant flim ball in the back of their throats and then haaauuuck it up and hurl it to the ground just inches from my feet! Not the 'spitting image' I want to portray.
Food Free-for-all
Now that I have whet your appetite, let's talk about food :>). I love Korean food! It is healthy, colorful, spicy, delicious and absolutely the focus of the Korean culture. In fact, the most common expression in the Korean language after saying "hello" is "have you eaten yet". This is their equivalent to our "how ya doing" or "what's happening". If your answer is "no, I have not eaten yet", you are sure to be catered to in the traditionally generous and hospitable manner of the Korean people. If a full meal replete with numerous side dishes is not available, some kind of snack will be close at hand. Dining is definitely a communal concept here and the cultural conduct is all about sharing anything edible. Nowhere is this more evident than at the grocery store where one can actually consume a complimentary and complete dinner including wine or beer and even coffee and dessert all while stocking up on staples for the week. This is not your random 'end-aisle' demo of the newest cardboard-like cracker from Nabisco. This is more like a live performance of a culinary cacophony as the cast of cooks tout their tasty treats and shoppers stop and surround the stations in order to satiate themselves. Without intending to 'bring up' the topic of congestion again, I must say that with the multiple 'demos' occurring in every aisle, every department, and at every hour, traffic is often at a stand still. Once while waiting in line for a piece of what looked like thickly sliced ham (but turned out to be SPAM of all things), my cart was pushed aside to make way for a Korean family of four who simultaneously grabbed their green plastic toothpicks and proceeded to inhale the entire plate of 'junk meal'. At that point, I decided it was best for me to "delete all SPAM" and move on to the wine tasting.
Sweet Truth
Perhaps the best analogy for this cultural confoundedness would be 'fool's gold'. We've all seen it, many of us have 'panned' for it and some have even bought it because it seems so real--it looks so authentic. It has that rugged, hunky, nugget shape or those perfectly smooth rounded corners of a big bar of richness. With its lustrous allure, it entices us all into its radiance promising great satisfaction and sheer rapture if we are to indulge ourselves in it. BUT, it is not really gold, it has "fooled" us into this euphoric ecstasy. The same could be said for Korean desserts or bakery items--they are all as exquisite as gold jewelry with their glamorous shapes and unique forms; they beam brightly in rich colors of pink, green, yellow, red and chocolate brown. There are stacks of luscious cake-like layers, crocks of creamy custards, shiny spheres filled with sinful sensations and tantalizing towers of treats all tempting us toward a truly sweet ending to a perfect meal. But noooooooo, these dessert decoys have not a lump of sugar in them! The truth is: only the masterful designs and and outward aesthetics are "sugar-coated", the actual taste is more like plain white styrofoam. What is more troublesome is: bakery items that are not meant to be sweet like garlic bread, ham & cheese croissants and even pizza turn out to be honey-glazed, filled with whipped cream or laced with some kind of fruit jam or sauce!
A Tip
The most incredible and fantastic issue of all is that tipping is not allowed or accepted in the Korean culture. At first this was the strangest custom for me to adopt, especially after spending more than 2 years in the 'service industry' in America where tips were my entire livelihood. The idea of getting out of a cab or salon chair or up from a restaurant table or a bar stool and not leaving at least 20% of my total bill was an anathema. However, I have learned what a luxury this is and realize that here, service professionals are paid adequately and are respected for their passion and dedication to their tasks. This is nothing like in the states where we must supplement a server's income just to keep them remotely interested in showing up to work. Service professionals here go out of their way to ensure that you (locals AND foreigners) get the most timely, friendly, respectful, quality service. I tip my hat to this culture on that one.
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