겨울 팬터지

I remember when I started learning Korean, I have difficulty differentiating "가을" (autumn) and "겨울" (winter). Many times, I wrote "가을" as "가울" and "겨을" as "겨을", but fortunately, the two wrong words are meaningless.

Every change in life, every new journey makes one vulnerable to embarrassment and failure. But the flip side is a whole new world presents itself which get you excited, hopeful and motivated all over again. My sojourn in Korea many years ago started in winter. I just quit my job and was feeling insecure. There were worries because of a conscious effort not to become a liability to anyone. Then thing changed when it started snowing one night.

Looking out of the window, the snow was not falling straight, it was dancing in the wind. Illumination of the "dancing snow" was provided by a beam of warm light radiating out from the solo street lamp in the alley. In the midst of my indulgence, my mind finally yielded to my heart unconditionally and I did not know why. At last, I could let go the baggage of the past and embrace my future for the first time.

There is something magical about winter. The things I like about it are the lights and snow, preferably if the snow is mixed with a little bit of magic dust.


Location: Garden of Morning Calm (아침고요수묵원)
Date: 5 January 2013

가을과 한 몸

I was born late autumn but the irony was I only experienced it once. Maybe I should make it twice or thrice but I am too late for autumn this year. Sometimes I do believe I was imbued with melancholy since birth. I can draw beauty from departure, separation and the end of something since the world we live in is a world of duality. We depart only to return, we separate to meet again and an end means a start somewhere else. Melancholy is more pensive than sad. I do not see fallen leaves as dead, it was a year of good growth.

Location: Metasequoia Forest Road, Damyang (메타세쿼이아 가로수길, 담양)
Date: 13 November 2010