One Hundred and Eight Bows Pt.2

                I walked fifteen minutes down a side road and found the temple entrance. A tall, fair-haired German about my age showed me around; he’d been staying at the temple five months already and his calm demeanour was a testament to this. I next met my roommate, Chang Min, a Korean I presumed to be in his thirties. He was unmarried and taking a month off from his work as a civil engineer to live the austere temple life. “I make money and buy, make money buy…” he explained in shaky english. “I want to find who is I.” 

                I walked with Chang Min to dinner, a steep uphill climb that left me panting and legs throbbing. Following this we had my first Sunmodo training. This temple is a particularly special one for being the headquarters of the Sundmodo discipline – a Korean Buddhist martial arts tradition. Sunmodo “envelopes the dynamic movements of a martial art into the peaceful practices of meditation, yoga, and chi gong exercises.” I did not know it yet but it was to be as much a physical challenge as a mental one.

                After learning proper bowing techniques from a nice Polish girl, the forty or so of us in the dojo-like temple were led in ritual chants by one of the masters. Though I was provided with a “lyrics” sheet for the chants I found I was far too busy trying to ensure I bowed properly and at the right time to join in on the droning. Next we were led in stretching exercises. My mat was next to Ryan’s, an American who also joined that day, and the two of us proved woefully inflexible. There were some particularly interesting movements however including one where you sit, legs spread in a wide “V” whereupon you reach out to grab your ankles and roll backwards onto your neck, keeping your “V” shape and trying to touch your feet to the ground behind your head. You then roll back to the sitting position and carry on ten times or so.     

                Many of the martial arts movements are done very slowly and methodically. They require grace in the movements of your limbs and strength in your legs as they are performed in the horse stance (google it). I think I am in decent shape and still my legs would burn so bad during some movements that I was forced to stop several times to straighten my legs and shake out the fire. One movement involved swinging your arm, hand in knifehand position, on either side of your body (front and back) utilizing momentum to create fluidity. The next step was incorporating the other arm simultaneously. I watched our master perform this and it had the effect of an impenetrable whirlwind of knifehands seeming to defend every angle of him at all times. Few of us could properly perform this. This was probably my most embarrassing attempt at the martial art during my stay. My arms refused to mirror each other’s movements and instead wildly flailed like two demented windmills. I looked like I was eight-years old again using my one primitive defence tactic against my big sister. 

                The next morning Chang Min and I awoke at 330. We showered and headed out for the 430 chanting service. It was lightly raining just as the day before. After the chanting we did thirty minutes of sitting meditation followed by thirty minutes of walking meditation outdoors in the cold rain. This involved walking very slowly and keeping in a line about two metres apart from the person in front of you. We were advised to take this time to soak in and think about the nature around us, or otherwise simply focus on the pressure beneath our feet as we walked. I enjoy walking meditation and the consonance of sounds around me – morning birds chirping, rain falling, feet rhythmically rising and falling – was indeed plenty to occupy my thoughts, but our steep, downhill and slippery path necessitated a portion of my brain stay focused on simply not wiping out. 

                One final event worth mentioning was the performance of the 108 Bows. This involves standing in a circle and prostrating oneself the aforementioned number of times for the purpose of self-purification and to humble oneself. Each bow is for a different “promise” or “objective” which is read out in Korean. We were provided English translations which I kept at my feet. With every bow I would quickly read what it was for and contemplate it for the few seconds before the next. “I bow to wonder where I came from and where I am going,” “I bow to appreciate my parents for giving birth to me,” “I bow to ask for forgiveness from the people I have hurt,” “I bow to call attention to the good in others, but not the bad,” and so on. I had been nervous about the pain my body might go through with all the getting up and down, but I found I was so occupied by each bow’s significance that I hardly felt discomfort on even the final bow. It was a very moving experience and one of my favourites during my stay.

                One night’s stay was not long enough to really get your mind and body into the flow of temple life I realized. I can’t stay for months as some lodgers there do (not that I’d want to given the chance), but I do intend to go back and stay for two or three days for a more thorough experience.        

Sunmodo Temple Pics

Lunch before arriving at the temple.

Dogs, possibly someone else's lunch.

Temple entrance

The floors were heated but it was still a rough sleep. I had to rotate throughout the night as each part of my body became sore.

Roomate 장 민 (Chang Min)

Part of the winding uphill path that lodgers walk. The nature on both sides was gorgeous even for this dreary time of year.

Chanting/training temple. Cool blend of the old and new no?

Jake-son before a training session.

The masters were impressive to watch.

One Hundred and Eight Bows

                This is my first Korean blog entry and I’ve chosen to write now that I have finally done something interesting here.  This first weekend in March sees Koreans celebrate Independence Movement Day, which celebrates the first nationwide protests against Japanese rule in 1919. My fellow English teachers were all eagerly planning together where they would go for the weekend.  For myself I would go solo on a temple stay at a Buddhist monastery – a chance to escape the smog and noise of Uijeongbu (where I work and live) for the lush, tranquil mountain setting of the temple I would be attending.

                It was my first time leaving Uijeongbu and for it I chose a spot on the exact opposite corner of the Korean peninsula (the outskirts of Gyeonju). Getting there was half the fun. I first rode Korea’s sleek subway system into Seoul, then elbowed my way through throngs of Koreans to transfer to another subway line which brought me to the intra-city bus terminal (I would travel the long and cheap way). After a four hour bus ride I arrived in Gyeongju and, before continuing on to the temple, stopped for lunch at the first place I found. It was a traditional Korean restaurant; this meant removing my shoes, sitting on the floor and forgetting about English. The old lady in charge gestured emphatically at a picture on the menu – presumably she’d decided to order for me when she saw my eyes glaze over in an attempt to make sense of my choices. I agreed and what came was a boiled half-chicken in an onion broth soup, stuffed with rice, potato, a single turnip-looking vegetable which I at first honestly thought might be a possum penis, and a single kalamata olive, along with the usual sides of various pickled vegetables (kimchi). It was delicious and I ate everything, possum penis and all. I was next to a TV and as I ate it showed a billiards match which was played with only three balls on a table with no pockets. Not surprisingly the match was still going when I left.

                I hopped on the local bus which was to take me to the temple, somewhat unsure of which exact stop was mine. The old local man sitting next to me took an interest in my destination, but my pronunciation of the town was apparently unintelligible. I had the idea to try out what I’d learned of writing Hangeul (the Korean writing system) and spelled out the town as best I could on paper. This time he understood and began diligently recruiting those sitting around us and shouting instructions to the bus driver. At the next stop my new friend had to depart, but sure enough, a couple stops later, what seemed like the entire bus turned to me and let me know that this was my stop. Nice folks.

                More to come including pictures.