Gaia: DIVING DEEPER: A Writing Workshop - Diving Deeper: PROSE - Clueless in Korea

Re: Clueless in Korea

http://azyh.gaia.com — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 09:32:08 GMT

I read this and go into culture shock. I want to weep for the 16hour days and the pressure of a school test and marks... I want to weep for the American kids that may not even appreciate play after school, TV, fun stuff at night on weekends with friends.

I think about my daughter and how we have struggled around homework.

can there be a balance of responsibility and childhood? or is there only room for one at a time?

i hope there is room for both.

glad to have been transported into this world of the -i- character. i measure myself to this 'child' and feel i come up short. I better appreciate and understand the world more from reading this.

thank you
xx azyh

Re: Clueless in Korea

http://michaelsits.gaia.com — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 14:11:59 GMT

Chicken on a Stick for Dinner

The rain has stopped. This time of year in Korea it rains most days. Fortunately he is let out of class a little early tonight at the Hag won where he studies math, Science and English. He can take his time walking home now to make it before midnight, his mom begins to worry if he is not hoe from class by midnight, even though she is already sleeping but not enough too not hear every time the elevator reaches the ninth floor of the building. Tonight she was not able to bring him rice, kim, meat and Kimchi for his twenty-minute break between classes at 6:15 because she had to bring her youngest son to a school performance tonight where he played the violin. So, tonight, Minsu ate two pieces of chicken on a stick for dinner during a day that included him leaving home at 7:50 this morning and getting home just before midnight with enough time to walk from his high school to the hag won without the teacher yelling at him for being late again. Today he made it on time! Now he can walk home and stop for some bread with red bean paste in the center at Paris Baguette. This is the highlight of his day.

Minsu, like his mother an father know that if he does not level up at least two more times this year, he will not be able to get into a decent local college. His grades are good at the high school; 3.87 but that is not enough any more. These days he needs to speak English somewhat fluently, receive nothing but 4.0 in both math and science and be ready to take the toesel test in august if he plans on being accepted at Nazarene University in the fall of 2010. And even then it is still along shot. His friends are mostly all receiving 4.0 grades and that is just his high school. He sometimes cries at night when he cant fall asleep from the constant pressure of knowing two or three wrong answers on a the next test are enough to exclude him from entering college. He dreams of living in America where kids play after school, watch TV at night and do all kinds of fun stuff at night on weekends with their friends. He attends another Hag won on Friday nights and Saturdays just to keep up. Sundays, they go to Church, lunch together as a family and maybe shopping at the E-Mart before he goes home to make up for all the time wasted with his family every single Sunday. He knows that if he doesn’t get his grades up to 3.96 or better, he will spend the rest of his life working at a local supermarket on the microphone calling out sale prices on vegetables or delivering merchandise on a truck. He just wants to be a businessman, not a doctor or computer programmer but he is well aware that tomorrows testing may sway his future one way or the other. Three cups of instant coffee with sugar and dried creamer, Xylotol and one can of cold coffee are usually enough to keep him going throughout the day. Then he takes two sleeping pills when he gets home to catch five hours sleep before testing tomorrow.

A deep breath before entering 815 Mart to get a snack and cold coffee for tomorrow morning. “I can do this. I have to. How else will I find a good wife that will marry me if I don’t get a 100 on the test tomorrow?” he fights back the tears in the bright lights of the store with Big Bang, his favorite group blaring in the background in the store. “I can do this. Today was only sixteen hours since it is summer and next week we start summer vacation and then I will only be in classes for six hours a day. I can’t wait for vacation so I can watch some TV and play video games between studying! One more week till vacation!”

Re: Clueless in Korea

http://michaelsits.gaia.com — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 14:07:15 GMT

Thanks Nishta. can i pay you to be redundant like this?

Peace,
michael

Re: Clueless in Korea

http://imprintingspirit.gaia.com — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 10:56:47 GMT

Lovely post, michael (am I getting redundant with that comment, I wonder?)

My favorite pieces:
"Damn Americans! The think they can do whatever they want and it doesn’t matter what or who it affects but themselves."
and
"He wants to call her and wake her up just to hear her voice but the tears running down his cheeks drown his courage. He misses her and them so much."

Re: Clueless in Korea

http://michaelsits.gaia.com — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 14:58:36 GMT

A Cass System

His white dress shirt is unbuttoned and his blue blazer stained with some red bean sauce on the right side near the pocket. He is barely walking in a straight line, more like an inchworm than a sword. But he is finding his way towards Ssangyong Junction to hail down a cab. It is 11:20p.m. His wife and children are home asleep, nearly two hours ago and a five-hour train ride if it was Friday night. It is Wednesday night and he will not se them till after work on Friday when he returns back to Cheongjiu. He hates his little studio apartment in Busan all by himself. He did not get married and have children so he could live alone seeing them on weekends. He blames the Americans and there lack of self-discipline for this. Sine they started with their recession, Korea has suffered even more harshly since a significant portion of their economy relies on the American lifestyle of luxuries and convenience. Now, he had to accept the transfer or be laid off. The transfer moved him across the country and far from his family.

He stumbles into the cab and barks his address at the cab driver while leaning back on the black seat. He can smell her perfume even this far away. He will never forget what she smelled like the first time they met at Sin Li Presbyterian Church. She was wearing a white dress with a hint of light pink. She looked so pure and innocent when her and her family first moved to the neighborhood. She sang all the hymns and bowed respectfully when it was called for. Anyone could see how well her parents raised her to be a good Christian girl. The perfect wife- beautiful, pure, honorable and a virgin. Her perfume made hi dizzy, still does Although she rarely wears any these days and it turns out she was not pure, innocent or virginal. But he still daydreams at night drunk about her. Of course, he was never drunk before the American recession. He only drank during customary and traditional circumstances then. Now, all he needs is for it to be dark and lonely. He has found a couple of guys who also live there only during the week while working and they frequent the Blue Café with the two for one bottles of Cass Beer nightly. Then finds his way back to his place and falls asleep in his work clothes from the day.

Damn Americans! The think they can do whatever they want and it doesn’t matter what or who it affects but themselves. George W. Bush? What did they expect? Now a Black person to fix their economy? No wonder everybody secretly hates them and wants them to fail. But whoever expected it to hurt so many people? This is what he thinks about while falling asleep at night. That and his wife’s perfume that used to wear before the show ended with marriage and children. Now she is twenty pounds heavier, no perfume, hair up all the time and sex on Saturday nights are obviously a chore to get through in marriage to make sure he keeps send the money to pay the bills on time. He can tell she is just doing it to make him feel happy or at least content till he leaves on Sunday night again. She can still smell the alcohol in his pores on Friday nights from Thursday night, well and the whole week really. They sure do put on a good show, he thinks to himself. Since she deceived him so much he feels that she should have sex with him whenever he wants as payment for the lies he believed. The lies she told him before he smoked cigarettes, drank Soju and Cass Beer and lived alone sending text messages back and forth about the children, school and bills. When she at least pretended to be the woman he married. Just because she does not honor the Korean Way does not mean he has to break tradition and get a divorce; he was not raised that way. They do not do that here. Marriage is for a lifetime regardless of what lies or pretenses the marriage was based on. He loved her and still does, even the woman she really is as well. You do not divorce your wife, period. Now what a man does when drunk in a café is another story but she deserves it for being such a liar and embarrassing him and his family. Besides, she is good with the children and if he needs to be with one of the special ladies in the Café once in a while that is his business, not hers.

He is almost asleep with the rooming spinning slightly. He wants to call her and wake her up just to hear her voice but the tears running down his cheeks drown his courage. He misses her and them so much. He hates being alone and drunk and smelling like a Café all the time. He wants to get back home to smell his wife, even if she is not the wife he thought he married, she is still his wife and he loves her. Thank God for Cass Beer

Re: Clueless in Korea

http://gospelwriter.gaia.com — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 19:09:49 GMT

Michael, you really had me wondering what it was the girl was fighting with herself about doing---or not doing. And the surprise ending was priceless, really. Ah, the shame of crossing against a red light (I was thinking more in terms of a red light district...).

I loved the suspense, and you make a good point about tradition for the sake of tradition. There has to be a market for this story somewhere.

Ruth

Re: Clueless in Korea

http://michaelsits.gaia.com — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 14:47:14 GMT

Crossing The Lines

She is standing at the curb shifting her weight back and forth. She has her light blue Kumon bag full of books from the hakwon she just left at 11:00p.m. tightly clutched to her chest covering her white uniform top that is neatly tucked into her grayish black uniform skirt. Her cell phone is somehow squeezed between her fingers ready for whatever calls or text may come. Her eyes are darting back and forth looking up and down the empty street across from the Nunghyup Bank. Her agitation increases with every passing second. The urges are beginning to overpower her, but they are wrong. She has been taught better. The training from her mother and grandmother for the past sixteen years will not be thrown away in a fleeting moment like this. She can’t do it, not now, not tonight. Her mother has already tucked her little brothers and sister into bed and is preparing rice for tomorrow morning. Her father, who just showered after another twelve-hour day on the road selling fruits across town, is trying to relax for a few minutes before crashing for the night without dinner again. They have worked hard to get her in to this hakwon, the best science, math and English academy in Cheonan. She cannot disrespect them like this; it would crush them if they ever found out.

Besides, how will she be able to go to Church on Sunday after such disregard for Korean tradition and values? NO! She will not do it! She lowers her head in shame at the very thought of even attempting to be so reckless.

And then as if she just figured out her clothes were on fire she raisers her head and starts running across the street. I can see her sheer delight at this moment of freedom at being like a real woman who is strong and able. Her eyes are wide-open and bright, cheeks flushed with vibrancy and arms lifted with each stride. She is halfway there ands realizes what she has done, almost comes to a complete stop, begins to lower her head again with a natural twitch but realizes she has come too far, she cannot go back now. She panics and hurriedly looks left and right, then forward and again darts across the street, exhilaration pours out of her like she is an American girl who is out drunk with her friends on a Friday night accepting free drinks from all the boys trying to attract her fancy knowing they will just flirt, tease and go home laughing together at their conquests. She reaches the other side of the road and freezes cold in her tracks. The momentary flash of freedom evaporates and becomes drenched in guilt, shame and humiliation. She wants to hold back the tears but is not able. She drops her cell phone for the first time and bends over to pick it up forgetting she is wearing a skirt and is supposed to lower herself properly like nice girls do. Her book bag slides out from her grasp and the books fall all over the black sidewalk, she is aware she will be noticed now for certain. Someone will tell her mother. There is no way she can now just walk in the door like nothing has happened. They will know even before she runs the final three blocks to their seventieth floor apartment in Highvill 2. She trembles as she gathers her things off the ground and stuffs her cell phone into the bag and takes off running even faster than she crossed the street towards home with tears streaming down her now pale cheeks. How could she be so careless and ungrateful to her family and bring such shame upon them? They did not raise her to be the kind of girl who crosses the street while the light is still red! Nice girls follow the rules even if there are no cars on the road at 11:20 at night. They obey and follow traditions no matter what. Crossing the street while the light was still red; who did she think she was and did she forget where she is and what country she lives in?

Me, I am shocked. I have lived here for ten months and waited patiently to see if during my thirteen months stay I would see one, just one young woman or girl cross on the red. Their moms do it, all teen boys do it and certainly all men do it without even thinking, but young women are trained well here. By well, I mean effectively.

It has been three weeks since I saw that girl cross the street on a red light. Every night when I am walking after dinner I think about her and how hard being obedient must be to those who need to dance and stretch their own limits. What pressure these young girls carry with them day and night to conform to traditions that are so old that there are nobody left to explain why they exist or where they came from. The answer is simple- “It is what we do”.

Re: Clueless in Korea

http://michaelsits.gaia.com — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 15:59:05 GMT

Korean Mountains and Valleys

Mountains cascading silently around cities
Cities cemented with tall buildings
People religiously armed with cell phones
Umbrellas and visors to block the sun and rain.

Children educated till near midnight
Fathers visit their families before bed
Grandmothers selling veggies squatted roadside
Grandfathers pulling carts of collected trash.

Kimchi and rice eaten for breakfast, lunch and dinner
Quickly consumed in record time
Restaurants filled with families and drunk businessmen
Pork grilled over a round fire bed.

Boys and girls in their proper uniforms
Walking with their white or pink Converse
Texting relentlessly while crossing busy city streets
Sugar the accepted other family member.

A shared history they do not know
Following blindly the only way possible
No girl would dare to step out of line
Lowering their heads a the hint of being different.

Mothers scurrying from here and there in high heels
They work hard at their jobs
They go home to and begin their real work
Where are these men that wanted nothing but to have a family?

They roll up their sleeping mats
Beginning another day
They do not know of vacations or holidays
Or why everything is or always was.

Re: Clueless in Korea

http://imprintingspirit.gaia.com — Tue, 09 Jun 2009 22:28:01 GMT

Great post michael. I love the ending "It is working; water, mountains, green and fresh air what can rarely be achieved in city life..." beautifully put!

Re: Clueless in Korea

http://michaelsits.gaia.com — Mon, 08 Jun 2009 14:53:47 GMT

Friday Night at Danyang Valley

My tent is pitched between two retaining walls and next to a rock to sit on. It is a full moon on this Friday night with a hint of clouds in the sky to add to the feeling of Truth I sense here in Danyang Valley. Although not really Truth since the campground is pretty well tended to and has that air of resort. I am twenty feet from a man-made waterfall with a wooden wheel turning and spilling into a lively and vocal brook that flows down from Mt. Seobeksan. This is where I will sleep tonight.

The solitude is both comforting and disconcerting. My life in the cemented city of Cheonan does not provide this kind of solitude; even my mountain. The quiet is loud as the water cascades in all directions like my mind.

It is cool enough for me to put on a long-sleeved shirt at thirty past midnight but the night air in the mountains is nourishing my skin and pores. My first yawn of the night. A good one that inserts its message loud and clear. I will obey.

Tomorrow is the Second Annual South Korea Couchsurfing Gathering. There should be between 40-50 people coming from all over the country to attend and participate in hiking, climbing, paragliding, eating and enjoying our weekend together. I wanted to camp the night before to get my whole Self present. And I love camping this time of year.

It is working; water, mountains, green and fresh air what can rarely be achieved in city life, even for a recluse-wannabee like me.

Re: Clueless in Korea

http://michaelsits.gaia.com — Mon, 11 May 2009 00:07:21 GMT

Many Bows in return!

Re: Clueless in Korea

http://ntonilipski.gaia.com — Thu, 07 May 2009 19:28:33 GMT

michael - I have grown so accustomed to your writing and must confess to being a total fan and in love with your style; it is what we might call 'acquired taste', but now i am an aficianado, can't get enough!! recently stumbled upon a certain donald miller, an american writer who sells millon copy bestsellers, and truthfully, his writing, good as it is, is not a patch on yours...there you are, Ive gone and done it now - you are a legend in my life - please never stop scribing, you just get better and better

bows

@~)

Re: Clueless in Korea

http://michaelsits.gaia.com — Thu, 07 May 2009 14:13:23 GMT

Michael = Dog?

Anna is one of my favorite students. She is in second grade and just adorable and beats up most of the boys in our class as a bonus. She has black hair like everyone else here, brown eyes like everyone else here but hers are deeper, darker and rounder than most. Her full cheeks with that soft, silky Korean skin is just unavoidable for a quick, gentle caress every time I see her when she is done walking with me with her little hand inside mine. Anna is very affectionate and loves to be loved. Fortunately, I love loving her, so we get along well.

Today while waiting for her classmates to get to class, she was holding my hand, well actually my wrist and looking up at me with those wondrous eyes and dimpled smile. I was lost in her world when I noticed there was someone petting me, yes petting my forearm and I came back to earth and my classroom. It was Anna stroking and petting the hair on my arms. She again looked back up at me this time with wonder in her eyes and said in her best English, “Michael, dog?” and she pointed to my arm hair and then to my chest. Translation for the non-EFL teachers of the world: “Michael you have hair on your arms, are you a dog?”

I laughed half-heartedly and smiled at my precious little angel who somehow made calling me a dog sound sweet. Second graders can get away with stuff like that but adults get the Jersey/NYC stare when they venture into making comments of that sort.

I still get startled at the fact that most Koreans, both children and adults have never touched a human being with body hair or facial hair. It startles me. I grew up in an Italian family and amongst Italians, chest hair and facial hair are signs of virility. In fact, you are not really considered a man until you have chest hair. I faired well in that department. The other symbol of Italian manhood is not as easy to see, but we will leave that one alone for now. The idea that men can be men and not have hair on their chests, face and arms is beyond my mental capacity to understand. When I am lazy and do not shave, the next day almost every young one will come and rub my stubble. It occurs to me that they may have never felt a man’s facial hair as stiff as mine, another fact that baffles me and my social programming.

While on a roll about my social programming, bodies and cultural differences, I might as well dive into the women. Wait, that did not come out right. What I meant to say was I would like to explore the different bodies of Korean and Western women. OK, that didn’t work either but I think you get the point! I was here almost a month before I realized that the majority of females in Korea are not teenagers! Korean women have very slight frames and bones. It is of the highest importance for a woman in Korea to be skinny. I mean skinny, not thin or athletic. Typically, their bodies remind me of the standard American eighth grade girl in girth, bone structure, weight and size of butt and breasts. Even when pregnant, Korean women are less voluptuous then the American college girl on a diet. And I am speaking of American White girls, not Blacks or Latinas. Their butts are smaller then most pre-pubescent American girls, often with even skinnier legs. If thin is in, then Korean women are it but if curves are what shake your nerves, head east in a hurry! Again, I grew up around Italian women and the physical features that define her as a woman are her curves coming and going.

It has taken me a while to adjust my personal definitions of what is considered attractive, sexy and mature here in Korea. I am not sure I would ever adapt completely from the social and familial programming that is seated deep in this curious mind. But I am curious about what the skin feels like, I cannot lie. Koreans have the smoothest, silkiest skin on this planet. It almost doesn’t feel real. I have a friend in the states who is half Korean and I call her Silky Pants (she calls me Jerk Face for the record) and she warned about how the whole country has skin like hers. I did not believe her, I am a believer now. At times, I reflect on wanting to have a one-night stand or something similar just to touch, caress and lay next to such soft smooth skin. My Inner-Slut has a field day with these kinds of thoughts. But generally, return to my prudish ways and go about my business while trying not to gawk at an occasional woman that I cannot tell if she is twelve or twenty-eight- their bodies, faces, skin and clothes are almost identical. I blush when I realize they are a child and lower my head in shame.

The lessons and education continue for me here in Korea. I am starting to pay attention again to my surroundings knowing that my time here is limited. So the young ones will have to find another man to pet and call dog, and I will have to hold the hands of somebody else’s children with skin more course and a lot less bowing. In the mean time, Michael Dog will try to not smirk at the idea of being a man without chest and facial hairs and being a woman without curves. The programming is deep, like the center of an old Oak Tree. And like an Oak Tree, they don’t die easily.

Re: Clueless in Korea

http://michaelsits.gaia.com — Wed, 06 May 2009 02:18:02 GMT

Thanks phil.
I have had fun with this thread. It is like a combo of journaling, memeoirs, travelogue and freefall based on what i see, hear and smell.. Hopefully i can add some more stuff over the next couple of months.

Peace
michael

Re: Clueless in Korea

http://michaelsits.gaia.com — Wed, 06 May 2009 02:14:21 GMT

Thanks Nishta! believe it or not, i was thinking of oyu right after i wrote it. The Universe sure is an intrestring place.

Re: Clueless in Korea

http://imprintingspirit.gaia.com — Tue, 05 May 2009 19:52:27 GMT

“What do I need to learn to tonight about myself, us or how I can be of better service or become of better man?”

This is why I love reading what you write, michael, and why i resonate with so much of what i read of you... i've missed reading you and am glad to have come back here for this.

namaste!

Re: Clueless in Korea

http://sundovt.gaia.com — Tue, 05 May 2009 03:23:59 GMT

I have thoroughly enjoyed reading this thread. I'm reminded that life doesn't come in neat little packages. We are a sum of our experiences. I enjoy the fact that you embrace the culture, and in that light find it a positive journey. You have effectively bridged both worlds, and given the light of yourself. Thanks for sharing this with all of us.

Re: Clueless in Korea

http://michaelsits.gaia.com — Mon, 04 May 2009 14:11:04 GMT

Go Ask the Mountain

It’s just a simple three-kilometer hike, nothing of great proportions. I do it almost daily, well, really nightly. It is a mountain, like but not like every other mountain in Korea, with one bug except. It is the mountain I will miss when I leave here. Tang San is my best friend in Korea.

Tonight while climbing up the side by the Golden Buddha of the Temple I sit at on occasion, it occurred to me I would leave this mountain, soon. I was sad for a moment and then felt my heart twitch with joy. I have lived and learned on this mountain. I meditate every morning in my room but Tang San is where I ask the questions that I need and often do not want the answers. Tonight the question was simple while slowly stepping on the bed of fallen pine needles with the refl3tio of the almost full moon shining a light for me over the branches and stumps. “What do I need to learn to tonight about myself, us or how I can be of better service or become of better man?” A simple question.

What struck me as I came to one of the side paths which I took a left around the family trying to coax their little dog with a red light blinking around its neck is this; why do I always ask to be a better man? Why not a better person?

I passed the dog and headed toward the bench I spent Saturday afternoon in the slight drizzle on Buddha’s Birthday sitting and reflecting. It one of my favorite spots on the mountain. Yesterday late afternoon I had an energizing experience of standing Qi Gong in front of the bench while sensing the curious Koreans passing by looking at the strange Foreigner. Strange indeed but not because I was standing and meditating. Tonight I kept walking. I wanted to stay focused and present. There is something here I need to learn.

Then another question slid into my consciousness. Why do I get irritated when women speak of themselves as something separate and, therefore, special and seem totally fine with making that distinction myself? Hummm good question. Maybe someday I will have the answer. I was not able to let go of a nagging feeling in my belly. It was initially stirred yesterday afternoon during a Skype session with a friend discussing our departures from Korea. What have I done here? How is it that a mountain in a city of a half million people is my best friend? Maybe my only close friend? How did I spend this much time here and really only make a few semi-strong relationships and they were predominantly with Koreans? Why have I avoided non-Koreans with such commitment?

Well, I have done some things! I have done the rough drafts of a novel, a book of essays and memoirs and the foundation of a cultural and social book about Korea and Koreans. That is something. And I learned about non-verbal communication, especially energetic exchanges between people. I leaned that sex is not a given. Good friendships can be formed with folks I have never seen or heard online. That writing is important to me, no, essential at this point in my life. That I could fly 8,000 miles but still miss my dead family members. I still don’t have a clue about much, not a surprise. That going months between ANY physical contact with humans above grade six is challenging, very challenging. Koreans do not share physical affection with other that are not family except for women who walk with their hands or arms wrapped around each other as a matter of course. Hugging matters, even to a semi-cold distant man like myself.

Tang San is my friend. It is hard for me to visualize my experience here in Korea without my time on this mountain. Like all good friends, Tang San lets me come to my own conclusions but rarely leaves me without something new to chew on. Tonight, while reaching the base of the mountain and walking down the staircase in front of the Church with large red cross in the sky and the larger painting of Jesus n front of the building I realized where I am headed next has many mountains. They are larger and dry with little else but rock. Deserts are like that. This particular desert is without sand, just rocks, mountains and space. I will try to make friends with those mountains like I have been fortunate enough to with this one. And hopefully that will not give me the answers without forcing me to search and claw a bit first too. Tonight I was thinking of Gurdjieff while walking- a Teacher, a model and haunting face with intense expressions of locked eyes, forceful cheeks and a forehead that tells stories of many miles. I will walk some of those same miles soon enough.

Re: Clueless in Korea

http://ntonilipski.gaia.com — Sun, 12 Apr 2009 15:50:05 GMT

michael - this is good; i like the flow and i feel correspondence with your frustration. i like the question/answer section, a novel approach and entertaining...

stay awhile and keep us posted!

@~)

Re: Clueless in Korea

http://michaelsits.gaia.com — Tue, 07 Apr 2009 15:06:28 GMT

This is how to do it

“No, no, no. Michael you don’t use the lettuce to eat grilled beef, that is for pork only.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Grilled pork we eat directly for the grill.”

“Why?’

“I don’t know. It is Korean culture.”

It is those last for words that have been playing through my mind tonight and many nights lately, It is Korean culture.

What does that mean? Really, what does that mean? Stating it is the way it is because that is what we do is not an answer to a question.

Arresting Officer: “Why did you rape those poor defenseless women?”
Perpetrator: “This is what men do”.

Divorce Lawyer: “So why did you cheat on your husband of 27 years?”
Woman: “This is what women do when their men don’t pay attention to them.”

NYC Tourist: Why will nobody help me find the Brooklyn Bridge?”
NYPD: This is New York. If you don’t like it, get the hell out of here and go back to where you came from.”
NYC Tourist: Why does nobody care about helping a lost visitor out?”
NYPD: We’re Americans that’s why.”

Washington Post Reporter: Mr. President, Why are we attacking the people of Iraq?
George W. Bush: “Because we are United States of America.
Washington Post Reporter: “What does that mean Sir?”
George W. Bush” It means we are Americans. This is what we do.”

I used to live in an intentional community for a few years around the turn of the millennium. It was a vegan, environmentalist community with a small group of radical activists; I was not one of them but lived there and participated in our activities. I was labeled the community Passivist. Not pacifist, Passivist. They said I was the opposite of an activist, therefore, Passivist. But that is another story. One of the community members liked to go onto town from our space on the outskirts of Hoosier National Forest on Tuesday night to go to Tortilla Flats for Taco Tuesday- tacos for $1.00. I could usually be talked in to going. I never quite got the point of a taco without cheese, but the meatless part didn’t faze me. One night while seated outside on their terrace with white iron table and chairs, we were talking about why we feel the need to identify as vegan, as opposed to just not eating meat or dairy and when we feel moved to do so, choose to eat it in special situations. She said something to me that felt very profound, “Michael, for me it is easier to just to make the decision to not eat meat or dairy products than to have make the decision before every meal. It is just easier this way. To be vegan, this is how to do it. It solves all the questions.” I think this is how most of us go through life- the this is how to do system of life.

In Korea, this seems to be more so than most places. Koreans in general seem to embrace the notion of one way to do everything. The say hello all in the same exact tone and cadence. They say goodbye in the exact same tone and cadence. Mood, affect, relationship or environment do not matter, it is always said the same way by pretty much everybody- one tone for men and one tone for women. Done. This is how to do it. When being taught how to say hello my first day and by every single person thereafter, they all demonstrated the exact same tone and cadence for saying hello and made me practice it that exact way. Until less than ten years ago, very boy and girl in Korea had the same haircuts-one for boys and one for girls and each had their own uniforms. This is how to do it if you are a child in Korea. Done.

A friend was aware a few weeks back that it was the anniversary of f my mothers passing. She asked, “Are you going to Church tonight?”

“NO. I will light a candle at home and say a prayer.”

“Can I join you?”

“Yes, I would like that. Thank you.”

Around 9:00 that night, she rings my doorbell and I open the door and she is standing there with sad expression holding a large grocery bag. “I brought you some fruit.” She hands me the bag and I look inside and there are oranges, kiwi and strawberries. She knows how much I like fruit.

“WOW. Thank you! Do you want to come in?”

“No. I can’t. It is Korean culture. Sorry.”

“Oh, OK. Well thanks for the fruit and the thought. See you tomorrow.”

“OK, hope you feel Better. See you tomorrow.” And she leaves. At another conversation she explains how she thought she would be able to join me with her sister but her sister could not come. And in Korean culture a woman cannot be ion a room alone with a man that is not her husband. Done. This is how to do it. I knew this fact of Korean culture, although more rare today than twenty-five years ago, but did not think that applied to prayer and memorials but hey, it is Korean culture. Done.

Non-Korean: “Why do you not hug or have physical contact with your friends?”

Korean Native: “It is Korean culture. Why do you and your friends hug each other all the time?”

Non-Korean: “It is what we do as humans.”

Korean Native: “Really? Humm. We are human and we do not do this.”

Why do we grip so tightly to this need to have one way to do things? We are we so afraid if living without prescribed rules, mores and laws? Are we that fearful of what we are capable of? If so, do these rules really keep those dark desires and longings from being expressed? Or are they the cause of the outward expression themselves? Do Catholic girls who go away to college get pregnant so quickly because they are sheltered from the knowledge and experiences to deal with their feelings and action or is it hidden desires that finally are expressed?

Boy: “Why do you spend an hour getting ready every day?”

Girl: This is what girls do. Why do you plat sorts every day?

Boy: because this is what boys do.

White Person: Why do you talk like that?

Black Person” Why do you talk like that?

Person from Culture A: “Why do you eat the skin on the apple?”

Person from Culture B: “It is where all the vitamins are and it tastes good.”

Person from Culture A: “No, the skin is bad for you, you shouldn’t eat it.

French Chef: “Why do you serve the vegetable salad after the meal?”

Italian Chef: “To help you digest your meal. Why do you serve it before the meal?”

French Chef: “To help you digest the meal.”

If there is one thing that will push me towards definitely making the decision to not renew my contract and stay another year, it is the exact phrase, It is Korean culture. It is not that the social rules or mores themselves are that troublesome for me, it is the blind obedience to living a certain way for no reason other than it is what we do. I ache every time I hear this phrase. It is what is wrong with every ‘developed’ society, this need to set life up to be a certain way with no or little room for personal or spiritual growth or guidance/direction. Love and Compassion lose out to this is how we do it. God takes a back seat to social programming and acceptance. Have we completely lost touch with our primal sense of being?

Michael: “Why do you keep giving different versions of the same example?”

Michael: “Because this is what I do. It is how I do it.” Done. This must be how to do it.