GAPYEONG HOSPITALITY — free as the sky

On April 5, I wrote these two paragraphs while in Malaysia.

This morning, I catch myself daydreaming about spring, a spring that never is from where we are. When we were in Japan in mid-February, we were told that we would miss the burst and bloom of the Cherry Blossom trees by only a few days. Except for a few trees that did not get the memo and teased us about what was to come, most trees were dormant like dead winter. I realize I now have the capacity to daydream because I spent the last three Springs in Korea except this year. By the time we return to Korea in late April, cherry blossoms would be long gone but the brighter and assorted Royal azaleas would be getting ready to full bloom. I suppose if one lived through a doldrum grey and occasional white of winter, spring unfurls one’s eyes in the full spectrum of colors. The feasting of festive soft pastel colors readjusts our eyes and awakens our souls to new possibilities. Even without the array of colors, the newly budding fluorescent green leaves rival the flowers’ beauty. Another round of life, at least the visible, begins again.

We live in a land of perennial summer, tropical summer of deep greens as opposed to the pastel kind. There is not a stretch of time when we cannot rely on air conditioners, day and night. I know some sleep at night without the air conditioner. I am not there yet. And I am not volunteering to make that a goal of mine to accomplish that feat. I am far from complaining because we would take the summer over cold winter, any time. Besides, one does not need much clothing in summer—I can live simpler.

A few days ago, we arrived at an Airbnb in Gapyeong, north of Yangpyeong, in Korea. What I imagined while in Malaysia is in full display from our windows looking out into the rice fields, vineyards, greenhouses, and near and far mountains. I discovered that there is Mt. Unak right nearby and it boasts of being known as one of the most beautiful mountains in Gyunggi Province. I tell myself I will climb to the top one of these days. . . Depending on how the wind blows, we are reminded that cows are nearby as Gapyeong is known by cattle and dairy farms. The rice farmers are busily preparing the fields now by having them flooded with water to plant rice stocks. Soon, the rice fields will look like well-manicured lakes, reflecting the mountains and the sky. The most dominant feature of this place involves how utterly quiet it is. We can practically whisper to each other from across the room and still can hear. Last night, as the water filled up the rice fields, frogs came to life, making a chorus loud enough to pass as a blaring alarm.

May in Gapyeong boasts amazing weather, low 50s at night and mid-70s during the days. In May, we will host people during the weekends and a few weekdays here at our Airbnb. When I ran a book club last fall, I shared I would run several “Pilgrim retreats” based on my book, From a Pilgrim to a Pilgrim. Our weekends are booked solid, and we look forward to hosting people.

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I began re-reading Thomas Merton’s New Seeds of Contemplation a few days ago. I first read it more than 10 years ago, and it changed my life. While I am curious to find out what I underlined and what I wrote on the margins then, I am just as curious as to what I will be drawn to now, many years later. The words below caught my heart this time.

Contemplation, on the contrary, is the experiential grasp of reality as subjective, not so much “mine” (which would signify “belonging to the external self”) but “myself” in existential mystery. Contemplation does not arrive at reality after a process of deduction, but by an intuitive awakening in which our free and personal reality becomes fully alive to its own existential depths, which open out into the mystery of God.

Some of my often-used words are in this small paragraph: experiential, subjective, mystery, free, and fully alive. The retreat would merely be a space where we can be free to explore the depths of our fully aliveness which can only be subjective and ushers in the meeting place between our existential mystery with the mystery of God.