My father belongs to the old Korean generation who believed daughters are liability in the household. Thereby having three daughters in a row after losing his first eldest son to a mysterious fever, was not exactly happy thing for him, especially in securing the ancestry line as the eldest son himself. According to our folklore superstition, giving humble names to the proceeding girls will ensure the birth of a boy later. So he just did that. He named his first daughter with the commonest suffix of “Ja” and the second daughter, which is me, with the second commonest one “Sook.” “Bong”, which means “phoenix” in Chinese character, is the shared middle name, thus Bong-Ja and Bong-Sook is our name that sounded pretty outdated even in my generation.
Much to his disappointment, though, the next one also was a girl. My good natured father, by then, didn’t have the heart to simply name her with yet another common one. So he gave her a very pretty and different name than us, Soo-Kyung, even skipping the “Bong” as the middle character. Yes, after that, he finally got a son, our younger brother. Of course, he was an exception. He got his name from an astrologer, instead of our father, after having done professional consultation. In fact he has two names, one for the formal and another for the nickname.
But strangely our not-so-affectionate father somehow dotted the third daughter, not the son. While we were growing up, father’s favorite was my younger sister. He will remember only her birthday, not even mother’s, and sneak presents or stipends to her occasionally. He was rather indifferent to the rest of us but nevertheless he was a quietly loving father that we didn’t really make a fuss out of his slightly extra affection toward her, except with the names, for me.
I was not proud of my name neither my elder sister’s because they sounded so country girls and old fashioned. I often accused him of naming us so insincerely. I forgot what his reaction was but surely he didn’t feel guilty at all nor my elder sister ever complained about it. It was only me, the second daughter, who was grumpy and unhappy with it all along. But one day years later, it changed for better after I discovered what was in the name. I came to read about a legendry bird called “Bong”; the same character of my name, from the Chinese classic “Zhuang-zi.”
In the tale that was told,
“There is a fish called Kun in the Northern Ocean, which measures several thousand li (1 li is about 1 kilometer) in length. One day, it suddenly changed itself into a bird called Bong whose back measures several thousand li in breadth. The Bong took wind and flew up to 90,000 li in the sky. From high up in the air, the Bong looked down and everything appeared indistinct. The hills, rivers and cities were no longer visible. The Bong gazed upwards and saw endless expanses. It became one with heaven and earth. The expansive mind must be limitless like Bong so that it is not rooted in the mundane. Only when one views things from the standpoint of time and space, then there will be oneness with all things.”
You see, it suddenly made sense to me why I had this unworldly and wondering nature. As far as I can remember I was always looking for something beyond from where I was. There seemed to me somewhere else place I needed to go. Either lying down in the field with my dreamy eyes following the floating clouds in the sky or standing at the corner of a wall watching people passing by… in retrospect, I think I was like a bird in the cage wanting to fly, to find freedom, to find my own place where I could feel belong…
Unlike my younger sister or friends, I seldom played any dolls or those children’s games. Neither my elder sister did. My elder sister was a more sadistic one than me. I don’t remember her ever playing or laughing. She was serious, studious and exposed herself early on different religious teachings, especially on Buddhism. I was not. I was a dreamer and an adventurer. I often checked out myself into some unknown place in the sky as though looking for the many gods described in the Greek mythologies. The Apollo in the chariot led by many horses passing by the glaring midday Sun, the long black haired Hades quietly sneaking around in the darkness of nights, and the almighty Zeus with the terrible thunderbolts in stormy summer, following behind the Narcissi who was in love with himself…
Could it be the name thing? Or are our fates related with our names? Eventually my elder sister settled in far away land Russia with her priest husband. I settled in where I am and with what I am doing right now. My younger sister never went out of the country but lives close with father after marrying into a large family. When I met my then future hubby who is a serious Taoist scholar, he interpreted my name as “a phoenix living by the spring water in a forest.” Then, it sounded even better. Added together with my Pisces sun sign and natural temperament to reflect in solitude, I realized that it was a perfect name for me all along. “Beth” is the nickname my hubby gave me to strengthen some of the weakness that he found from my birth data according to his Taoist Almanac calculation.
I doubt my father might have picked the name after reading the Zhuang-zi but it didn’t matter anymore. The story of the mysterious legendry bird Bong appealed to me now. Like him, maybe my elder sister and I also were eying on the expansive universe that exists beyond this ordinary world we are in. I likened myself to the fish waiting to get transformed to a great big bird, so that I could one day fly high up and become one with the great universe. Imagining myself a phoenix in the making, helps me greatly in setting my life direction thus far, especially when challenges of life are overwhelming at times. I would remember the magnificent bird who needs to bear considerable amount of time to transform itself from a fish, and exert great strength to fly high so that it can spread its huge wings in the vastness of the sky… then, I can easily find my composure and serenity.
Yes, in this fast moving modern era, cultivating infinite patience to keep one’s dream high and alive is much challenging task because everybody else seems so busy to achieve, accumulate and consume… Zhuang-zi advised us to be like a floating tweak in water, going around the rocks and trees in the streams and rivers, eventually to flow into the ocean. I find it is not easy matter, however. Learning how to flow with the currents of water without resisting, keeping my lucid idealism up without getting caught up in the crazy market places of insane materialism and corrupt spiritualism… But then, what I can’t give up is the dream I held for so long, the longing in my heart for some place ethereal and out worldly. I do not believe our life meant to be just this ordinary, wasting in never ending pursuits of sensual gratifications only while forgetting to live our hopes, dreams and visions with focus and efforts.
Maybe I am still a hopeless dreamer to insist my own place, my own styles, and doing my own things in my own phase. I try to teach people to slow down, to take time nurturing one’s strength and polishing one’s dream before rush out with desires and impulses. I hate to see people bringing their own downfall sooner or later. By doing so, I am living my own name and at the same time helping others to live their own name because it is often the case that one’s name reveals the true nature and purpose of their life. Do you know what is in your name? Maybe you want to look into it if you haven’t? You might be surprised to find out how much it holds the key in achieving your lifelong dream of happiness and purposeful living…
