It is winter back home in Korea. Growing up in a country with distinctive four seasons, winter was my favorite time of the year, because we were allowed to slow down during those cold months. It was okay to get lazy a bit without feeling guilty and also could hide the extra pounds under the thick clothes. When the world and busy outside life go into hibernating mode, I could happily catch up with extra sleep, readings and chit chatting with sisters and mother. The Iowa State where I stayed for 5 years, it used to snow until knee deep. The brilliant midday sunlight shining over the thickets of icy hills like crystal, the hauling sounds of the winter wind blowing all around in the bare corn field of Iowa, as though it were dreams, now they occupy in the corner of my heart as faint memories while I have moved onto different phase in the stages of life. But those were precious times during which life was much simpler and sheer joy filled with learning and hope for future. I missed them very much.
It is my 12th year that I am spending winter time without thick coats, cold air and icy ground. Living in Malaysia that is summer all year round for more than a decade, my body has already accustomed to its hot weather but my heart has not, it seems. The sound of silence in my heart echoes louder always around this time of the year. The yoga center also becomes quieter with the students busying themselves for family holidays or preparation of the New Year. Then, I would turn to my favorite two spiritual guides to find solace for my somehow empty heart— Bhagavad Gita and Patanjali Yoga Sutra (more details in the next article). Whenever I turn to them, I can forget all the wanderings, loneliness, pains and aches. I can renew my perspective about life as a whole with fresh dose of inspiration and enthusiasm. They are like my spiritual hometown where I keep going back whenever I need consolation, comfort, strength, energy and vision. I always get plenty of that, even more than what I asked for.
Among these two, the Gita has especially special meaning to me. It has contributed few important life turning points in my personal life. First, it had initiated me into spiritual journey as a more serious seeker, at a time when my life was in the coldest winter. It also had arranged my meeting of then future husband when I first arrived in the State. The rest of time, it stood there, always silently watching over me, like a loving mother to her child, with caring and protective eyes, without interfering in everything I do but only when it’s needed. It has been the source of my strength, comfort, inspiration and love in the absence of my late dear mother, of which I first come to contact around her departure.
It was one early spring when I was given the present, a translated hand written copy of Bhagavad Gita. At the time, I resigned from my work and was helping out in a yoga center while waiting to leave for US in few months of time. My mother had just passed away and I was in deep depression filled with remorse. Somehow I couldn’t cry during and after mother’s funeral though my heart was heavily saddened and aching. The fact that she was no more, wasn’t really real to me as I could feel her presence even more intensely than when she was alive. As I started to read the book for the first time, a very foreign dialogue between a foreign god and a devotee that happened in an ancient time of a far-away land India, I broke down, started to cry for no reason, wailing like a mad person.
“…Just as you throw out used clothes and put on other clothes, new ones, the Self discards its used bodies and puts on others that are new.” “…Death is certain for the born; for the dead, rebirth is certain. Since both cannot be avoided, you have no reason for your sorrow.”
Those words in the book pierced sharply into my heart and I realized why I couldn’t associate mother’s life as being ended even though her body was no longer around. I could still see her, feel her and hear her voice. I couldn’t cry because she was there so close with me and I was right… I read the book again and again. I felt such relief to know that I wasn’t an evil daughter who can’t even shed tears in mother’s grave, at the same time, to know she would be reborn in where she could study as much as she wanted. It was her dead wish to have higher education in her next life, to become a very learned person…
Soon I heard the news of the yoga teacher training course to be held for six months in Hong Kong. Without thinking much, I postponed the US study and joined the course, though it took a huge chunk out of my study funds. It was not until I arrived there, that I realized what I had agreed to undergo, out of fresh inspiration from the Gita, which was much more beyond my ordinary capacity. Call me daring, but sure it was bravado if not stupid. For the next 6 months, I was to go through a very strict Spartan regime of training in a remote suburban place. First time out in a foreign land, with smattering English, I was not even allowed to call home or they call me. Everyday from 6am to 10 pm, consisted with intense rounding of yoga and meditation, lectures, study, memorization and tests, taking short breaks for meals and evening group stroll only; no talking, no socialization… It seemed I had signed up for a grueling military training in where the only way out was death. Despite the shocks and exertion, I didn’t die therefore I had no other choice but to go on…
I often cried at night silently in my pillow, afraid other people might hear. Mother’s departing started to feel more real, and I worried sick to think about facing father whom I left in darkness about my participation in the crazy (?) course. I cursed the people who put me into this torture by instilling me ‘inspiration.’ But days became weeks, and weeks became months. I was adapting better as my English improved significantly as it often happens in an extreme situation. I didn’t know I could be that resilient and disciplined. I also made some friends with other course participants not to feel like an alien anymore. The course became not so difficult to handle anymore. I also experienced many breakthroughs in meditation as well, helping me to clear off a lot of emotional and psychological baggage that hung around me like a soaked cotton. By the time the course came to an end, I was a different person; much stronger and fit physically; from a lost and confused soul, to somehow more confident and pleasant person who shone much lights and enthusiasm with easy laughter. When father saw my changed persona, he didn’t loose his temper at my disappearance but kept quiet, giving me silent approval.
About a year after teaching in my previous yoga center, I soon left for my further study in the US. As I took a significant amount out of the study funds, I only had left enough money to last one year but not enough to afford the graduate course that I intended before. I felt okay, I said to myself, just one year, better than nothing to experience the bigger world, sufficient to a frog who had been living in a well. I enrolled myself in the English course and soon became accustomed to the new environment and people, enjoying fresh found freedom and learning experience.
One day about one month after my arrival, my Japanese roommate told me of a Bhagavad Gita study group in the town, offered free to Asian students by some Malaysian guy working in the famous new age bookstore in the town, who was also a Chinese Physician and quite well-known among the townies and international students for his mastery in diverse human science and esoteric subjects. I went there and saw this large framed man with funny beard and mustache. Other than that, he didn’t leave me much first impression but had a remarkable skill to understand the broken English of our poor Asian international students; that was the reason he offered the free study course to help us. The study book to be used for the discussion was the Gita. As he started to lecture on the Gita, I noticed that his explanation on the historical background of it was inaccurate. So, I, seating in the audience seat, corrected it by raising my hand. That got his attention—a reserved looking small woman from Korea knows about the Gita…
The rest of our courtship story is history as they would say… The one year plan stretched to five years. I could finish the graduate course with his help not only financially but also academically (he wrote the course papers for me…). I used to joke to him that the dowry money mother left for me, surely arranged to find husband in an unusual way. While my other fellow girl friends spend the money on buying house appliances or gifts for in-laws, I spent it off for the yoga teacher course (US $10,000 in 1991, a lot of money even now…).
Where did I get that kind of courage? Do you think I was crazy or foolish at that time? Maybe I was. But then, I don’t know how to regret over whatever happened. I take it as it comes. Whether the results from my decisions and actions come out, good or bad, I simply take it as learning experiences and move on. I can’t stay stagnated or hold onto what is over. I become very restless and impatient, then. The way I make choices in life are based on what makes me free, not binding with worry, regrets, obligations or fear. At this stage in my life, I see that quality of mine, the ability to think simple and act plain, is not liability, but a biggest asset, that which I learned from the Gita. I don’t strive for worldly fame or success; never I was or will be. But I feel free, content and am at peace with myself and my life. They are the blessings I received by knowing the Gita. They are also the same blessings the Mahatma Gandhi learned from the Gita. He shared those gifts with the whole nation of India to bring about its Independence. I do not dare comparing myself with him, but I do wish to share those gifts with more people if I can. The turbulent year 2008 is almost coming to an end, and it is my New Year wish to be able to hold the Gita study group with some of people who might be interested… Let me know if you are one of them. I will arrange the schedule soon.
