Like water: Lessons from Taoism in modern Korea
That things were different here in Korea first became apparent to me when I started watching the movies: "Oldboy," "JSA," "Seopyeonjae," "Memories of Murder," "Peppermint Candy," and many many more. I would get to the end of these outrageous dramatic journeys and the climax would just punch me in the face. I was used to the good guy winning, defeating evil, kissing the girl, and riding off into the sunset as the credits rolled. Here, however, the whole thing was flipped. The good guy died. The story left unresolved. And all sorts of other mental twists that didn’t make sense to me. I sat there, open-mouthed. What the hell kind of movie was this? Meanwhile, the Korean people around me in the cinema or at home, nodded silently as if to say, “Yep. That’s how it goes.” Then a friend told me that the thing I’d grown up fearing was little more than a cultural construct that didn’t really belong in East Asia. The devil, Satan, Mephistopheles, Beelzebub — whatever name you give it — wasn’t a central figure here. Yes, the culture has dokkaebi (goblins), mangtaehalabeoji (bogey