By Oh Jung-hun
I spent the last semester teaching hard, working hard. I felt drained physically and emotionally while barely struggling to meet deadlines for all kinds of paper works.
I often take myself for being a clerk rather than a teacher. Honestly speaking, instead of textbook review, I usually use all of my energy on the paperwork I have to deal with online or offline. As a result, I often meet students with a rather perfunctory attitude. I nonetheless smile before them. I often feel confused in the midst of praising some for good behavior while smiling but blaming others for their mistakes with a frown. Radically changing expressions makes my mind feel bruised.
I need to recharge my almost depleted energy levels and to vent my pent-up emotions before next semester. To do this, I walked around Mt. Jiri for therapeutic effect during the summer vacation. Unless I trek around the mountain at a light and slow pace, I'm worried whether my mental health may get worse.
While walking along the meandering pathway whether paved or rough, many thoughts flow in and out ceaselessly. However, walking strenuously stopped me from being struck by too many anxieties. My head is consistent with the state of the blankness while walking. I think that it is one of the biggest advantages of such exercise.
At dusk, imbued with purple by the sunset, I recognized again that I was a part of nature. It made me mull over why I have desperately striven with all my might thus far. While sleeping, I often have nightmares where I desperately strive to stay aloft. Otherwise, I might be dragged to the bottom.
Every time, I’m convinced that I can recover peace of mind by walking, resting and eating. These simplified ways of life are essential to keep some degree of good mental health. A myriad of reflections and oaths build and then collapse through the speed of walking. Only looking over several pinnacles of Mt. Jiri surrounded by capricious clouds gave me enough relief to bury whatever agonies I had. I’m sure that Mt. Jiri would also give those suffering from unspeakable concerns such tranquil relief. In addition, the Seomjin River flows alongside the road, washing away much if the debris of my mental conflicts.
I lodged at a newly-built guesthouse made of wood and clay on the second night of my trip, which was matched with Korean traditional architecture. My energy to walk more ran out when it was almost dark. To my fortune, I happened to find a room reservation had been cancelled whose facilities were very comfortable. Not to mention the nature-friendly dishes, I drank as much underground spring water as I could consume. It was not until I finished eating that I knew who the owner of this house was. A middle-aged man whose robust body seemed younger than his real age of his late 50s was once an executive-level manager at a prestigious Korean company. He said to me that he decided to return to this favorite area of his without any regret, signing off on his professional career of more than two decades. I asked him whether it was inconvenient not to entertain current cultural events and mass media. At that point, he pulled out his iPad and showed me a video-clip of Psy’s “Gangnam Style," currently enjoying huge popularity.
I was envious. His rural life seemed to ripen within the toleration of nature. His final words still resonate in my mind: “Don't strive desperately." Soon after this short excursion, I had to return to my battlefield for sustenance and become a hare chased by a formal schedule. First of all, not to speak of not having the money or courage to live amid nature, it is not time for me to stop working and teaching because my passion is not yet burnt out.
First of all, not only has Mt. Jiri provided me with a chance to leave the beaten path, but also many opportunities to meet similar souls friendly to nature while walking and taking shelter. I chewed over the significant meaning of “don’t strive desperately" on the train. Is it possible for me to live up to those words in the commotion of urban life? The sirens of this age ― hurry up or drown ― exacerbate life quality consistent with a slow tempo. The owner of the guest house told me that he had run ahead of coming to his realization, like the hare at the racetrack chased by slavering dogs.
It seems that I, like a hare, have accelerated the speed of my life since a teacher’s role has depreciated. Teachers before impatient students and parents urging them to go faster cannot keep their own sense of decency because they have to keep up with their requirements. It appears that teachers lost control of their life speed long ago. In a sense, the basic meaning of “don't strive desperately" seems to make my life more chaotic than ever when trying to live up to it. However, after trekking Mt. Jiri for two days, I attained more energy and enough room in my mind to strive reasonably, not desperately.
The writer is a girl’s high school teacher in Bucheon, Gyeonggi Province. His email address is dicaprik@hanmail.net.