Shifting Sand

There are certain things in this world that I return to visit, places and people I've seen, and ideas and concepts that I masticate anew with my Western-Eastern mind.

Sand mandala, the Tibetan-Buddhist impermanent art, is a good example.

If you haven't seen a mandala being created, the physical details are this - for several weeks, a group of Tibetan monks will carefully pour sand onto a floor or table space, creating a beautiful and intricate piece of art over a wide area. They work in shifts, starting in the center and working their way ever slowly outward until everything is complete. It can be quite transfixing to watch, this ancient artwork, the monks in teams carefully ticking sand via funnels onto a floorspace bit by bit.

The Recycling of Pain

I am truly fascinated with the Korean concept of “Han.”

This untranslatable word, which seems to permeate so much of this nation's psyche, shows up again and again in readings and random conversations. As far as I understand, “Han” signifies the great lamentation of the oft-invaded Koreans, a sort of angst-filled sense of endurance and yearning for revenge against injustice, steeped in sadness and broken-hearted melancholy.

There are examples, and internet links, to “Han” everywhere, and it would seem to influence everything from K-Horror to K-Drama, from the random fights one can see on the streets of my borrowed hometown of Daejeon to the aggrieved feelings of fans toward their national football team when it returned winless from the most recent World Cup. One article I read even referred to it and the sentiments of Korean-Americans during the1992 Los Angeles riots, as they watched their shops being looted and destroyed (accidental byproducts of others' anger).