A Time for Pondering

We never truly know how good we have it. We sometimes go through life complaining about the smallest and silliest of things: the weather, classes, traveling, walking, working. The list goes on. I know I'm definitely guilty of doing this. Sometimes it takes a something to remind us of the things for which we truly should be grateful. This is not a lecture on how you should be happy with what you have, but merely an experience I want to share. An experience that made me step back and think about my life and the lives of others.

Imagine with me, a place where food is scarce, rules are strict, and penalties even more so than rules. This past Sunday, two other foreign teachers, a Korean teacher, and I took a trip to the DMZ (demilitarized zone for those who don't know). It is the heavily guarded border separating brother from brother, the only remaining physically divided country. Excitement filled me as I found out the date for our adventure had been finalized. My fifth and sixth graders at Georgestone Elementary last year learned all about Southeast Asia and the DMZ was one of the topics covered. Ever since I knew I was coming to Korea, I knew it was one of the places I HAD to visit. I found myself feeling like a child waiting for that last day of school before summer vacation, carefully counting each day until the celebrated day arrived - it was so close yet so far. We were lighthearted, talking and laughing as we took the subway then an hour long bus ride to our destination. We had left the city and were entering small suburbs and country. Quick sidetrack - I was oh so glad to see the country. It had been a month and a half since I'd last been somewhere a building wasn't over 10 stories high and sidewalks were constantly crowded with people, delivery motorbikes, and even the occasional car. Finally, after our bus driver showed us her extremely fast and crazy driving skills, we got off and walked a short distance to the free shuttle bus that would take us up the mountain to the memorial and lookout point. 

One of many shots we got of North Korea, so barren and
abandoned compared to South Korea.

My first glimpses of North Korea had been while I was tightly gripping the hand rail that was keeping me from falling on the bus as I stood near the doors, waiting for our stop. It looked . . . well, it looked slightly different. It was a bit more brown, it didn't seem to have much foliage. After reading about all the invasion attempts and war-like episodes on the ground floor of the building, we headed up to the outside overlook. I slipped in a ₩500 coin into the extremely HUGE orange binoculars and glanced a close-up view of North Korea. As I slowly trolled from left to right and back again, strange feelings welled up inside of me. There were buildings, yes. But no one lives in those buildings. The North Koreans built them merely to show South Korea that they too can construct large structures, that they have the power and machines and resources. Without even standing on the other side of the river, with just a glimpse through some glass, the countryside had a aura of abandonment, eeriness, and silence. I saw one person riding a bicycle down a dirt road towards the scattering of useless high-rises. It was a Sunday afternoon - people should be out enjoying the last days of beautiful fall weather, children should be playing along the road and fields, chairs holding chatting adjoomas should be outside these houses. After my coin had given me its value in views, I just stood, quietly staring across the river, pondering anything and everything and nothing, all at the same time. After we had all had our fill of the view, we sat down in some chairs, soaking up the sun and feeling the gentle caress of the crisp autumn breeze. No words were spoken for a bit, just four silent beings lost in their own thoughts. The way I felt is not explainable. I have grappled with finding the right adjectives to describe my feelings, but I decided that I will never find the right words. It's one of those things where you have to be there, you have to experience it for yourself. 

Michael, the Korean teacher who had taken us, told us stories about the terrible living conditions and the treatment of citizens of North Korea. He talked about some of his experiences while he was in the military (which all men in South Korea are required to join). That afternoon was quite sobering. I'm so glad I got to experience it though, even if it wasn't jammed pack with endless moments of happiness, joy, and excitement. It made me think about who I am, where I come from, what I have done, am doing, and will do with my life. I'm grateful for a warm place to sleep; being able to feel safe and secure in my own home; having more than enough food to eat. I'm thankful for freedom of speech and religion, a government which is not dictatorial in style, and the endless opportunities I have to learn, travel, and work. I know this sounds like so many things both you and I have heard before. This time it's different though. This time, I had the experience. I ran into the hard wall of reality at the DMZ and realized that mine is nowhere near as thick and hard as that of others. Life can slink by quickly, days of complaints and wishing for something 'better' zipping by as fast as the Shinkansen Bullet Train. Don't let that happen. Find something in every week, every day, every hour, that you are grateful for. Doing that here in South Korea has made my life much more pleasant than if I constantly complained about wanting to go home, not liking my classes, being surprised when new classes are added to my schedule - that very morning . . . well, you get the idea. I'm not perfect by any means - I'm a work in progress and will be so until the day I die. There are definitely days I complain. But finding that silver lining in everything, being grateful that there are silver linings, affects you and those around you in a stupendously positive. As my good friend George Zimmer from Men's Warehouse always says, "You're gonna like the way you [feel]. I guarantee it."