my first knitting circle

i had the pleasure and privilege of visiting a local yarn shop today with my friend, inhui (above, on the right). she has been knitting up a storm this winter and invited me to accompany her for an afternoon with the knitting circle she'd found nearby. having been curious about learning a craft like that, i felt eager to check it out. when we arrived i immediately became mesmerized by the yarn selection! there was even all natural hemp yarn! finally, i decided upon 100% wool with varying shades of grayish-blue on the same spool. the price was right for my first attempt at a scarf and the texture/color felt comforting and inviting...like a color i'd want to come back to, which i will be doing again and again as i knit this scarf!
after i'd chosen my yarn, the queen crafter (above, on the left) sat me down and proceeded to teach me how to knit! in korean, of course! she was very patient with quite a sense of humor! within ten minutes i was up and knitting! i missed a loop somewhere along the way, and i made the first several rows too tight, but she showed me how to mend my follies and i became a better knitter for it.
i couldn't believe how the time flew.
after our late afternoon snack of kimbap, pig liver and rice cakes, the women had me try on different pieces they had knitted or crocheted. they took care of things! they bustled around, dressing and undressing me, arranging the hats on my head...it was clear that i was not versed in such matters!
inhui and i plan to return once a week, to receive guidance from the queen and to sit in a circle of women who weave, bustle and share sweet space together.

part one, part two

i have changed my blog to private viewing only. over the last few months, i've begun to feel that having all of my postings floating out there in cyberspace was a little too public. also, i've been wanting to experiment with writing in a less censored way. so here goes...a new chapter beginning.

this evening as i was frying up some left over black beans, green peppers and couscous, my thoughts wandered back in time. it's a strange sensation to realize one has lived at least two distinct lives already in one actual incarnation! sometimes aspects of the first life catch me off guard in my memory as parts of it feel so foreign now. take, for instance, the concept of original sin. i refute that dangerous notion with every bone in my body in this "part two" of my life, as i have found a very different way of seeing and understanding the world. however, i recognize how that belief, which took hold in very early, formative years, still reverberates in my cells to this day. it can still trick me into thinking i'm not okay, i'm not worthy and that i need some sort of external salvation.

like many other protestant newborns, i did not exactly arrive into a cosmology of belonging to this body, this earth. i belonged to god, who was somewhere up high, very abstract and yet somehow definitively male. i was his child, and my sights were to be set on heaven, not on the fleshy earthiness of human experience. during my earliest years, this belief system worked out pretty well as i seemed to be able to access god directly, through nature and imagination, and didn't have an understanding of patriarchy yet. my grandmother has shared many a story of catching me amid full out conversations with god, all by my lonesome.

i loved god and was on fire for jesus. in fact, i was a full fledged devotee by the age of three. i wrote song after song about how much jesus loved me, and i sang at the top of my lungs all day long. i was quite taken with the bible, so much so that i received a trophy in second grade for "the most scripture memorized." i loved the way the king james version sounded, all the "thee's and thou's." it rang ancient and poetic in my little ears. i wanted more than anything to become a preacher. i wrote lengthy sermons and would sit my two younger sisters down in the living room to play "church." i even made programs to hand out so my small parish could follow along with the liturgy.

i still remember the day i was told that girls can't be preachers. i remember the mauve color of the carpeting as i lowered my head in shame and disbelief. anger and questioning were not acceptable responses to authority at that stage in the game. i can still hear the whirring sound in my brain as my sense of purpose, creativity and pure joy were bombarded by the oppressive force of patriarchy. at my young age, i had seen no female religious leaders, so i took those adult words as truth. even though i couldn't quite believe it, my first and most vibrant dream went underground.

now, in "part two," i count my blessings that i was deterred before i could even think of attending oral roberts university in tulsa, oklahoma to become a zealous, raving lunatic of an evangelical preacher! it was definitely a road i could have easily traveled down coming from such a right wing milieu. i have no doubt i would have been quite charismatic with all that passion, but oh, the damage that could have been done! and the regret in the aftermath... i shudder to think. which reminds me, there is an incredible interview with frank schaeffer, who wrote the book "crazy for god: how i grew up as one of the elect, helped found the religious right, and lived to take all (or almost all) of it back." you can listen to this interview on NPR's fresh air with terry gross. click here to do so. it's incredibly moving.

so, anyway, here in "part two," i am in korea, devoting my days to the cultivation of wise understanding, compassion, and healing the fragments, reacquainting myself with what it means to have a dream of my own and really go for it, no matter what the old original sin voices say inside my head, no matter the gripping fear that follows. the courage, independence, and capacity that has been gained through following what i knew i needed and deeply wanted to do is clearly tangible after this year and a half overseas. even though it feels excruciating sometimes that the big choices come at such a great cost, i give endless thanks that there is also gain. gain and loss...gain and loss...over and over again, it seems. grief and praise. joy and sorrow. ever two sides of the same coin.

and in this process, dreams that once went underground, resurface again, in new shapes and colors...transformed by time, evolution, and grace.

impermanence

"security is mostly a superstition. it does not exist in nature, nor do children as a whole experience it. avoiding danger (risk) is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. life is either a daring adventure or nothing."

-quote by helen keller (my addition in parentheses)

-photograph by diana blok, india 1994...given to me in postcard form by a dear cancerian friend. thank you, surane.

snow dusted mountain tops

i returned to korea a week ago. valentine's day to be exact. this is my fourth time to land in korea and begin a new semester of teaching. each time it feels different. this time, vastly so. after the initial feeling of disorientation that comes with just having said goodbye to everyone i love back in north america, the curse of jet lag upon me, and entering my apartment after two months of being away and having it smell funny, i began to feel deeply settled and so very happy to be back. i marvel at the affinity i feel for korea, despite the insane motorbikes that come full speed out of nowhere down the sidewalks, the yellow dust storms soon to hit and reek holy havoc on my respiratory system, and the red pepper paste in almost everything available to eat. i just love it here. and the rightness of living in korea at this time in my life is unquestionable.

today, after cooking up a hearty hiker's lunch of poached salmon, mashed potatoes, and salad, finished off with a steaming cup of yunnan gold with a square of mexican dark chocolate, i set out on a mountain climbing venture. a friend told me about a ridge behind the train station that she recommended as a must hike. i rode a bus from my apartment to the vicinity of where my friend said the trailhead would be. turns out it was quite a walk through city streets to get to the actual base of the mountain, but i persevered! of course, there was a fork in the trail at the very beginning, and i chose the wrong one! well, not necessarily the wrong one, but the more meandering, odd one. it seemed fine for awhile, but then there came a long stretch where i had to walk through people's private vegetable gardens and was worried sick that i was going to be arrested for trespassing! in the process, i got massively snagged by a huge thorn bush that took me a good ten minutes to untangle from. finally, i made it to a clear, decent trail that looked as though it would lead me safely up the mountain. i followed it through forests of evergreens with magpie's chirping from the branches above, past mounds scattered about the mountain side where people are buried. and to no surprise, i came across a vibrantly colorful buddhist temple. i stopped in for a little rest and a splash of holy water on my face.i seemed to be the only person on the path for quite some time, then a few other hikers came my way, some of whom were amused by my sing-songy "ahn-YONG-ha-SEH-yo," as they echoed it with giggling after passing by! it's possible they were also entertained by my abominable snowman outfit. i have not hiked enough to have the gear down pat yet. i made the mistake of wearing my bulky, below zero, down jacket, with ski gloves and a stocking cap. i simply did not want to get cold. so, i spent quite a bit of time taking it all off and putting it all back on again, sweating and then freezing. i have to get this clothing issue figured out. i might just go out tomorrow and purchase some hiking poles, so i at least look like i know what i'm doing!

as i approached the top of the mountain, there were patches of ice and snow along the path. my breath looked like a cloud of smoke.
it is a marvelous thing to reach a mountain top. i never used to be one for climbing mountains. i was more of a minnesota flatlands, california ocean kind of gal. but, the more i climb to mountain peaks, the more i love the feel of looking out and seeing for miles and miles. the air is so clear way up there on top of the world. and one's perspective can't help but change. suddenly, i notice how small i am. and how boundless the earth, how far-reaching the horizon. i feel a great sense of accomplishment and awe every time i make it to the top of a peak and gaze at the view. i feel strong in my body, free in my soul...and my heart feels as wide as the world.after resting for a while at the top and giving a go to the exercise equipment up there, i took off along the ridge, which appeared to meander for miles. the views were breathtaking. i would have gladly hiked along the top of the mountain range as far as it would have taken me, but after a while i deemed it best to start heading down the mountain before the sun slipped out of sight. i had no idea where i would end up at the bottom, but figured i'd surely be able to catch a cab home, no problem. you can imagine my shock in the last 100 meters when i realized that i was exactly where i had begun several hours earlier. i exited the mountain on the trail that i should have chosen at the fork in the beginning, but instead took the garden tour/thorn bush path! my laughter echoed throughout all of korea. how strangely funny and perfectly fitting. all at once.


artwork:
1st image - an acrylic painting titled "asian fall" by frank ignizio
2nd and 3rd images - paintings in an exhibit titled "universal mountain" by korean painter, ahn sahn

perfection of wisdom

"live with skillful nonchalance and ceaseless concern."

-from the prajnaparamita sutra

the art of disappearing

by: naomi shihab nye

"when they say, don’t i know you?
say no.

when they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
before answering.
someone telling you in a loud voice
they once wrote a poem.
greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
then reply.

if they say, we should get together.
say why?

it’s not that you don’t love them anymore.
you’re trying to remember something
too important to forget.
trees. the monastery bell at twilight.
tell them you have a new project.
it will never be finished.

when someone recognizes you in a grocery store
nod briefly and become a cabbage.
when someone you haven’t seen in ten years
appears at the door,
don’t start singing him all your new songs.
you will never catch up.

walk around feeling like a leaf.
know you could tumble any second.
then decide what to do with your time."

homeward bound

i fly back to the u.s. tomorrow morning bright and early. this week, as i've been packing and buzzing around taking care of all that has needed to be done before leaving korea for two months, i have felt a true mix of emotions. sheer joy at the thought of reuniting with loved ones again and pedaling around berkeley on my bicycle! meandering through the farmer's markets, watching the tulips bloom in february...so much sweetness ahead. and at the same time as my heart has been carrying me around on wings of delightful anticipation, i have also noticed how i will really miss this place...this country that has been a second home to me for a year and a half now. it's faces like these and moments of overflowing generosity and pure gorgeousness, korean style, that i will miss more than words can say. i feel so grateful for the bounty in my life. everywhere i turn, there is love.

waking the tiger

"as surely as we hear the blood in our ears, the echoes of a million midnight shrieks of monkeys, whose last sight of the world was the eyes of a panther, have their traces in our nervous systems."

-paul shepard from "the others: how animals made us human"

this weekend i happened upon a book i've been meaning to read for years: "waking the tiger: healing trauma" by peter levine. dr. levine has dedicated his life to the study of stress and trauma. this book is an exploration of wild animal behavior in response to overwhelming danger. since animals in the wild are persistently subject to threats yet rarely exhibit symptoms of trauma, levine saw this as a doorway to understanding trauma in humans and our innate capacity to recover from and transform overwhelming experiences.

levine gives the following example: imagine an impala is being chased by a hungry cheetah, the pursuit may reach up to 70 mph, and then suddenly the impala will come to a stop at or right before the moment of attack, falling limp to the ground. the impala is not pretending to be dead, rather it has involuntarily entered an altered state of consciousness shared by all mammals when threat of death is approaching. as it lies there immobilized, the impala's nervous system is still racing at 70 mph, energy coursing through its body.

there are three responses available to reptiles and mammals when faced with overwhelming threat: fight, flight, or immobilization. in the 25 years of levine's research, he found that much less was known about the immobility response than fight or flight. he soon came to realize that it was this response that held the key to unlocking the mystery of human trauma.

the immobility or "freezing" response serves two brilliant purposes. firstly, in freezing, the impala (and human) go into an altered state in which no pain is experienced, a numbing so to speak. (remarkable!!!) this means that if the cheetah is to rip the impala apart, the impala will not suffer in the process. secondly, if the cheetah decides to drag the "dead" prey to a safe place from other predators, the impala may be granted an unguarded moment where it can wake from its frozen state and make a hasty escape. when the impala is sure it is clear of danger, it will move through a process of literally shaking its body in order to discharge the energy that accumulated and coursed through it during the frozen state. this movement allows the animal to pass through the immobility response and gain full control of its body again. the impala will then return to life as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

levine writes that when faced with what is perceived as inescapable or overwhelming threat, humans and animals both go into this involuntary immobility response. the physiological mechanism that rules this response is located in the primitive, instinctual parts of the human brain and nervous system, which is not under conscious control. these parts of the human brain and nervous system are virtually identical to those in other mammals and reptiles.

levine writes, "i believe that the key to healing traumatic symptoms in humans lies in our being able to mirror the fluid adaptation of wild animals as they shake out and pass through the immobility response and become fully mobile and functional again."

rotten banana luck

i went back to caffe tiamo this afternoon. the hazelnut gelato was singing my name. and upon arrival, the green tea began to hum the most beautiful harmony...so i had to get a scoop of each. the barista was so glad to see me back this week that she topped off my bowl with a waffle cone as "service" (on the house). tipping is not a common practice in korea, but sometimes i do tip at coffee houses or restaurants because my back and feet know what it's like to work in that industry. many times the tip comes right back in the form of a waffle cone, a bowl of dong dong ju (rice wine) to go, extra pumpkin pancakes...always accompanied by the biggest smile.

it is now 8 hours since i succumbed to that gelato. my stomach is officially in full revolt. the 55 minute ride home from gumi was ghastly. i had to pretend everything was okay. i kept rolling down the window, explaining to the professor who was driving that i had a rotten banana in my backpack (which was true), and that smelling it made me absolutely ill, so i had to keep letting fresh air into the car! he said his nose was not sensitive, and believe me, i thanked the moon and stars for that stroke of good luck.

i made a vow to give up ice cream this semester, as it's the last speck of dairy that i've been consuming on a regular basis, and because my acupuncturist told me that my system cannot digest it. that observation has been clear to me for years, as i've been a daily enjoyer of ice cream and always paid for it dearly with belly aches and various other symptoms that will remain nameless. however, i was raised on ice cream. it was a staple in our household, a reward at the end of a long day, my bedtime snack. it was what got taken away if i didn't pick up all my toys. ice cream was a comforting ritual from childhood until august 2008. i'm utterly amazed at how painless it has been to say goodbye to such a longtime companion. this fall, i only recall two moments when i found myself longing for ice cream, both of which occurred upon passing a convenient store that sells haagen dazs. as soon as the shop was out of sight, the craving disappeared. my body has been ever-so-grateful for this change in my eating habits. it would be unkind to go back.

when it comes to gelato, though, i have told myself it is a different animal entirely, and rarely found in korea, so i'd be a fool not to indulge when our paths meet. needless to say, that fib went up in flames tonight. my digestive tract feels so terrible right now that i cannot imagine getting near another scoop of gelato with a ten foot pole, in korea at least! i'd rather eat rocks. however, if i happen to travel to italy again, or paris for that matter, i just might have to give it another chance...

food for the soul

"when is the last time that you had a great conversation, a conversation which wasn't just two intersecting monologues, which is what passes for conversation a lot in this culture. but when had you last a great conversation, in which you over heard yourself saying things that you never knew you knew. that you heard yourself receiving from somebody words that absolutely found places within you that you thought you had lost and a sense of an event of a conversation that brought the two of you on to a different plane. a conversation that continued to sing in your mind for weeks afterwards..."

- john o'donohue, from "the inner landscape of beauty" interview on the radio show "speaking of faith"

post-thanksgiving day gratitude

i am incredibly thankful...

...for the kind banker who, in an effort to calm me down about the devastating exchange rate, gave me a cartload of free gifts: ziplock bags, a calendar, toothpaste, a designer knock-off bank book, and rubber cleaning gloves!

...for mandarin oranges and steamed "candy yams" that fill my belly with so much sweetness...and for the gift of chicken wild rice soup and pumpkin pie from a kind friend.

...for the sunlight dancing on the last hanging, crimson leaves of autumn.

...for the exercise bike at the hole-in-the-wall, underground gym that i've been frequenting this november (for free!!)...thank you, barb!

...for yoga and the sound of jack kornfield's voice.

...for the november presidential election results and the lifting of a heavy, collective, 8-year depression.

...for hot ginger tea with honey, lemon, and a few sprinkles of cayenne pepper that has successfully kept the bugs at bay.

...for the heated floors in the new japanese restaurant around the corner.

...for the elementary school student who asked me today, "are you chubby?" i will be laughing for weeks.

...for my dear, dear loved ones way across the ocean...my suitcase is packed, and i'm SOOOOO excited and grateful to be seeing you soon!

chickens in baskets, head over heels, and chanting hallelujah all the way home...

another amusing day with the professors in gumi! we were planning to see "mamma mia," but the theater changed the time, so we paid a visit to park, chung hee's birth place instead. quite a contrast, eh? we all shared similar sentiments regarding president (corrupt dictator) park, who ruled south korea from 1963 until 1979, when he was assassinated by the head of the korean central intelligence agency. however, we agreed that visiting his birthplace would indeed be an historical experience for me, as a foreigner. we were in and out in 20 minutes. the best part was seeing the hanging baskets filled with chickens outside of each door of park, chung hee's traditional homestead. all one had to do was open the door every morning, reach outside and fresh eggs! brilliant.

after the walk down history lane, we made our way to caffe tiamo, where the guys enjoyed americanos and fell head over heels in love with the affogato that i convinced them to order. how sweet it was to see them all with their little demitasse spoons, legs crossed, ooo-ing and aaahh-ing over the deliciousness of their shared dessert!i sipped a cafe latte and savored a generous scoop of hazelnut chocolate gelato all to myself. little taste of heaven. just what i needed on this cold and foggy day. we chattered, making big plans for spring semester. weekly badminton practice and liberal arts softball games. they were pretty tickled to find out that i had participated in many different sports throughout my school days, and that i still enjoy a good competition. they kept referring to me as a "multi-player!" when i told them that i used to teach kickboxing, their eyes got big and their mouths fell open! then, i revealed how i used to take men, twice my size, down to the ground during the years i trained in brazilian jiu jitsu. that sent them tumbling over the edge! now they all pretend that they are deathly afraid of me, like i might strike them or kick them in the head at any moment! absolutely hysterical!

on my taxi ride home tonight, it was impossible to miss that my cab driver had a big, fat bible on his dashboard. he had to have been in his 80's. his driving was frightful, but his personality was very good natured. we conversed a bit, until i ran out of korean! when we neared my apartment, he suddenly let loose a "hallelujah" and started laughing as he handed me a brochure with cartoon pictures of jesus on the cross and directions to his church. usually some part of me recoils automatically in a situation of that sort, but for some reason i didn't have it in me. i just chuckled and gave a "hallelujah" right back to him, accepting his pamphlet. this led to a spontaneous chant, in call-response fashion, "hallelujah, AMEN! hallelujah, AMEN!" over and over, to the point that i think we were both in a trance. i swear, sometimes i just can't believe my life. i can't believe i'm really in korea.
hallelujah, AMEN!!

somebody once said...

"forgiveness is letting go of all hope for a better past."



-from jack kornfield's "buddhism for beginners" cd series
-photo: early november - my path home from work...

painting in our slippers

it was just you know who and the guys this afternoon, practicing calligraphy and sipping pu-erh tea in an uptown gumi art studio. as i may have mentioned before, when i teach in gumi once a week, i have 7 hours of free time between classes. i have spent a significant chunk of that with my professor friends and have grown to absolutely adore them. we've made it routine now to go off on little jaunts every week during our long break: climbing mountains, playing ping pong till we're dripping with sweat, sampling new restaurants and now, lo and behold, creating art. we are committed to expanding our horizons! next week, our plan is to visit caffe ti-amo for some coffee and gelato, then head to the cinema to see "mamma mia!" these guys have seriously good taste.professor w. teaches chinese and is adept at chinese calligraphy. he invited the other two professors and myself to join him in his calligraphy practice session today. we drove all the way across town to find a sweet, little art studio way up on the top floor of an unsuspecting building. we took off our shoes, of course, and proceeded to paint chinese and korean characters, and a few zen circles, in our slippers. it was rather chilly up there, so we were bundled in our scarves and jackets as we strove to concentrate our minds into the brush tip..."the single point of power!" professor w. knows that i do yoga, as i bring my yoga mat with me to gumi every week. he kept reminding me that this practice of calligraphy is much like yoga. it is all about focus and stilling the mind. when, by heavenly chance, i drew an amazingly straight line with balanced pressure on my first try, his eyes widened, he gasped with his hand over his mouth and exclaimed, "professor jessa walters (this is what he calls me every time he addresses me) you have BIG talent!!" then he nodded profusely and said, "it is because of yoga!"

or, what some of us call, beginner's luck.

it was my first time using gigantic brushes and ink. there was a specific way to hold the brush with one's fingers, keeping it upright at all times and a particular rhythm and pressure to the strokes. i had to work to NOT let the form intimidate me, even though the atmosphere was light-hearted and sweet. i have never considered myself "good" at art. for years it has been a realm where i feel a bit clumsy and insecure. professor w. must have noticed my furrowed brow at one point because he came up beside me and said in his jovial tone, "professor jessa walters, don't worry, be happy!" after that, i simply couldn't stop grinning...ear to ear.

to close our session of volcanic creativity, we sat together and drank pu-erh tea. professor w. has traveled all over the yunnan province in china as a connoisseur of pu-erh. whenever he tells me stories of the bricks he has stored in his house of this rich, earthy tea, i start drooling! today, he added a couple of chrysanthymum flowers in with the pu-erh tea leaves to soothe our scratchy throats on this dry and bitingly cold november day. very, very nice. dark and smooth. the aroma conjured up images of fallen leaves and twigs returning back to the damp, autumnal earth.

i can't even begin to express how fortunate i feel to have crossed paths with these professors of chinese, japanese language and literature, and asian history. they are truly a group of unique gentlemen. despite our ranging ages and drastically different backgrounds, we all love to laugh. we love to tease. we each seem to be wholeheartedly open and ready to enjoy each moment, whatever it may bring in the wild world of gumi. sometimes that's all it takes for a person to have the time of their life.

this spring, they have invited me to join their badminton team at the university! i feel dizzy at the thought of the hilarity that lies ahead!

revolutionary benevolence

sharon salzberg writes in her essay, "becoming the ally of all beings," that the buddha once said, "develop a mind so filled with love that it resembles space, which cannot be painted, cannot be marred, cannot be ruined." salzberg continues, "imagine throwing paint around in vast, endless space. there is nowhere for the paint to land... when we relax the divisions that we usually make, the mind becomes like space."

a mind as vast as the universe. open, immense and empty (and therefore full of possibility). no walls. no solid surfaces for things to stick to. no fences.

supposedly, there is this place in all of us that is untouched by any of our life experience, no matter how painful or traumatic, no matter how lonely or afraid we might feel day to day. it has nothing to do with politics or religion. this place in us is spacious and deep. it naturally knows how to love and be kind unconditionally. supposedly, this is our truest nature as human beings.

i choose to believe that this is indeed true. not based on some sort of faith or because the buddha said so, but based on my own trial and error experience. i am beginning to recognize more and more tangibly that when i speak/act out of authentic kindness, even if on some level it might seem somehow risky at the time, the kindness trumps any other feelings and without a doubt joy, peace, and a deepened sense of ease follow. and the space within grows. true connection between beings does too.

to cultivate unconditional loving kindness feels fiercely revolutionary, deeply subversive to unconscious, age-old habitual reactions. it also feels like the most self-loving thing to do as it creates peace and freedom inside the heart and mind.

last week i told all of my students it was "kindness week." i encouraged them to commit a random act of kindness and then come back to class at the end of the week and tell all! after the students were finished sharing their stories, the feeling of warmth and openness in the room was palpable. people were laughing and smiling, long after the stories were told. kindness has a beautiful way of lingering...and it's inevitably contagious!

"it is only kindness that makes sense anymore." - naomi shihab nye


-sharon salzberg quotes from: "voices of insight: teachers of buddhism in the west share their wisdom, stories, and experience of insight meditation." edited by: sharon salzberg