The old man and Mary

Last Saturday my friends and I had a "going away" get-together for our dear Korean comrade, Chris. He is a Korean-American, his parents immigrants to Florida, but his grandmother and extended family still living in Seoul. Not sure if it's his mix of cultures, but he is one the goofier Koreans I've met. It was sad to see him depart, but I suppose that's what we're doing here, coming and going.

Every fall and spring there are waves of us foreigners entering Korea. Some in search of adventure, others in search of culture, some in need of change and still the few in search of love. Whatever the reason, they come in hoards.

Ironically, and however much they try to break the barrier, most foreigners tend to stick together; a non-military band of brothers so to say. Thus, their reasons for pursuing a life abroad can be quickly forgotten once loneliness has set in and their need for familiarity overcomes them.

Don't misunderstand me, I think it is purdanent for foreigners to group together. It's a basic human need. And that's what my group of friends has offered me. I am thankful for them, just as I think they are thankful for me. The one problem, however far off, is that of the 'going'. We all come, we bond, but then just as soon as we get comfortable we need to leave. Writing this I feel reminded of Mary Poppins and the crazy man who laughs and laughs so much that he is stuck floating in the rafters. The more the better and eventually they have a tea party of laughter and good times. Yet, just as soon as the party has started it's ended. People have to go home.

That is the reminder my friend Chris has given me. It's not as depressing as I've just made it sound. It's just a fact. A fact I've come to realize and will need to over and over again throughout this next year. Of course, in a way it makes me sad to think about departures, but in another way it makes me cherish their current presence ever more.

I am very happy to have met Chris, but he has said he'll come back in January. The other crew members have all signed up for another year, as have I. So I'm obviously jumping the gun with this blog. I guess I just wanted to write this as a reminder for myself in these next months. I'm quite excited to go home, but with these friends here, there is a life here for me, some roots for me.

The other day I was staring at the map in my classroom, trying to envision the space that divided me from home. Six months ago that gap felt as far as it is, six thousand and some miles of earth, water and sea. Now it's something different, something smaller. I felt the hold of the earth on my feet for the first time in Korea. I felt the roots of the life I'm making here, and admittedly it scared me. I did not expect myself to find such exceedingly amazing people a half a world away. They have become my roots here, and they are growing stronger, larger. I'm afraid for them to break off in the next year, but know just as with people I've met back home, that the breaks are never permanent. In fact, I don't think I could call them breaks at all. They are more like stretching limbs. It may hurt at first, but eventually the pain dulls to a soft yearning to be closer. It's not forever, so you endure it, you suffer in hope with a consolation of love. And I think that's the point of meeting new and amazing people. It's a race of endurance, a test of will. Either open yourself to the possibility of loving them and someday being without them, or never give yourself the chance to feel love nor its eventual absence.

As a great writer (I forget who) said: It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

This brings me back to my Mary Poppins example. If you can not tell, I loved the movie and even as a child read too much into it. I saw Mary as a prude and a show-off. I didn't like that she thought she was perfect, nor did I like that she seemed throw fits when things didn't go her way. In a way she reminded me more of a child than the old man laughing on the ceiling. Mary seemed to meet people then use them or teach them, but never learn from them herself. She seemed closed.

Through the old man I saw joy and laughter that can only be felt when still young and ignorant or when old and wise. He was near buddhist in the way he looked at the world. Everything is one and one is everything. He was happy when he felt happy, and was sad when he felt sad. There was no focus on perfection of appearance or formalities between people. He let the world touch his heart and thereby feel its repercussions, whatever they might be.

I'd like to think I've learned to be a bit of both. Mary can help protect me from the crazies, and the old man can help me to embrace the new and live in the now. Funnily, I can look at the departures of friends with the same lukewarm disposition Mary and the old man create when together. I'm sad, but accepting. Whatever happens, happens. I will always love my life here, and the people. Just the same as I regard home and my good 'ole' friends, I will miss them, remember them, long for them and hope to return to their presence with the consolation of love.