Ever as we edge the DMZ grey shadows ripple. Branches spire the slightly-achingly purple
skies, and snow covered windshields affront themselves as monstrous. Tiny select geometrically shaped crystals reach into the light as an old woman dips her
umbrella in the snow so interruptive and unknowing. The cold draws life into the uppermost parts
of you, preventing the deadening of your senses from things all too familiar. Your mind accelerates.
In every place but
here, this country place which does not differ itself from other such places, you can
follow in the snow, imprinted footsteps of others. But here, virgin prints are your only choice,
and steps come but a bit more hesitantly than would they, were they traversing
the city. Hesitancy is served here a
course in general. But as the long
Korean winter is ending, spring will finally give hesitancy its’ once delayed;
- a candidly joy.
If its one thing life in rural Korea has taught me these two years, it’s this something I've been reaching to explain until this evening. I had thought the search for wisdom would be
rewarding in its’ beginnings of transitions.
The expected triumphant defeat of an over extended teenage immaturity
has been so much more furthered from my suspects. Rather, it has been confronting every day;
day to day, only then facing the ludicrous wheel of boredom, and the ceaseless repetition
of forming good habits. There is no triumph in wisdom....I know now.
“Good character is not formed in a week or a month. It is created little by little, day by
day. Protracted and patient effort is
needed to develop good character.” – Heraclitus. The little; what we never expect.
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