Not merely what exists, but what one is capable of sensing
In Korea, people often use the phrase “to cultivate the Dao” — and there seems to exist a curious cultural longing in which becoming a kind of enlightened person is quietly regarded as something admirable. One day, a dear friend of mine — someone I have always been grateful for — sent me a copied
Empty bowl
“Son, do not ask why your father placed only one empty bowl on this large table. And do not ask what I intend to fill it with. That bowl is already filled with many things, and will overflow with even more, because I came to understand that even a single thing, whether great or small, can be
Sitting on the Hil
I place my body upon a corner where the clouds begin to scatter. Within a single blade of grass rests a heart I never managed to cleanse, and all this is merely the passing of the wind. And when at last all the water within my flesh has dried away, may that vanished fragment of cloud become the rain someone longed for, and
Dmitri Hvorostovsky – Musica Proibita
Dmitri Hvorostovsky – “Musica Proibita” ]No matter how many versions I search through here and there, this singer’s rendition remains the finest to me.First of all, the resonance and richness of his voice are extraordinary, and his expressive power is just as remarkable. I sometimes try humming along with karaoke versions on YouTube, but since I
The First Line
Someone once drew a line on a wall. No one knew why. It wasn’t a picture. It wasn’t even a beginning— just a line, left behind. The next day, someone stopped. Looked at it. Added another line. Not out of certainty, but out of recognition— as if the first line had asked a question. Days passed. More lines appeared. Curves, interruptions, echoes of what came before. And then,
Until the jar ran dry
What are these— puppies, it turns out All this time while the music washed over me my hand wandered unthinking into a jar of sweetness I ate and ate until absence spoke louder than presence only then realizing each one was formed like a plump little puppy Meanwhile Nuna—my cat— lingered in discomfort one eye dimmed by conjunctivitis just back from the clinic A breath returned to the body coffee cooling beside me smoke rising without urgency Puppies Puppies I tell myself now It
A Single Point
I look at a single, small point. She is, to the point of sorrow, too complete. Perched upon the wall, I saw her eyes searching every furrow of the field where the man once came. No trace, no scent of living flesh returns. As she stands on the verge of becoming an unmoving statue guarding a temple, she finally draws in the indifferent air and enters the room. When I put out my
Hygge
A Korean guest, invited into a Danish home, listens as the host takes some time to explain why all the indoor lighting in the house is placed below eye level. Hygge. With this unfamiliar word, my gently drifting thoughts begin to stir— and yet, like being singed by a quiet flame, the feeling slowly spreads and begins to take hold of my whole
Her name is Today
Her name is Today— no, this moment. Breakfast barely tasted, what they wait for is the world outside. For Latte perhaps the spirited girl he once chased and quarreled with in the heat of play. For Nuna perhaps the handsome wanderer who once called her name from the shadow beneath a car. Latte leaves without promise, as if tomorrow were guaranteed. But Nuna stays by the door. She waits as though the iron