Killing the Buddha

Courtesy of David Tizzard

By David Tizzard

The young woman raised her head. She looked at me through her glasses, taking a pause before speaking clearly and in a deeper tone than usual. "One day, you'll be where you're meant to be. Doing what you're meant to be doing. And with who you're meant to be."

This was something I had felt countless times before. But at that moment, and expressed in the simplest of words, those few sentences hit me like an atom bomb. Pushing life, energy, thoughts, and feelings cursing through my veins. Everything made sense at the moment. We just have to find our place in this world. And, in doing so, remember, that it might not be the place others have chosen for us. Nor what society wants us to be.

The meaning of life can in fact be very simple. The philosopher Kwame Anthony Appiah once expressed it like this: "Life's challenge is to take the possibilities that your genes and your physical and social environment have given you, and make something of them." Beautiful for its simplicity and universality.

I spent yesterday at Woljeongsa. A Buddhist temple in the east of Korea, founded in 643 by the Silla Monk Jajang. We were welcomed with smiles, clasped hands and food. The head monk offered words of encouragement. Other monks explained parts of the temple and the idyllic surrounding landscape.

As we walked the 1,000 steps to the peak, sat in a warm meditation room, and observed the traditional instruments that call people to prayer, two messages were evident throughout. First, you were expected to smile and greet those around you. It wouldn't seem polite to stick your headphones in and whirl around in your own smartphone induced-world. The task was instead to engage. To be present with others.

Second, we were often asked to reflect on what was inside us. Whenever we leave the house, we check our external appearance in the mirror. But do we ever check our internal appearance? Do we ever take a minute to reflect on the turbulence that exists within? Do we ever sit in silence? Bored? Listening not to the sounds of YouTube, Instagram, or the incessant buzz of Twitter but instead to the rumblings beneath our subconscious?

No, we don't. And we are generally not asked or encouraged to. The modern world is ablaze with hyper-real images of picture-perfect people living pristine lives in paradise. And so we seek to emulate them. Pushing the external to the forefront of our being. Driven by competition. Encouraged by likes. And slowly slipping into a society wracked by mental health issues.

And so there I was. Experiencing a type of Korea that has existed for millennia. A Korea steeped in history and wisdom. Part of the world that survived in the most trying of conditions. It is not very cool anymore, however. It won't adorn the front of any of the newspapers. Instead, these will be filled with stories about poverty porn, celebrities, romance, mass death, and political fights over the most insignificant of issues.

The secular story is one of self-interest. Moreover, we are presented with little alternative to the idea of enlightened self-interest as the most fundamental of moral codes. But science continues to persuasively argue that the self is little more than a controlled hallucination. We also find more and more people growing tired of the self. A widespread weariness grips us. Malaise fills the gaps. We become bored of the burden of becoming.

So where did it all go wrong? How did we find ourselves in a place we weren't meant to be? The paradoxical Zen saying asks of us, "If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him." Did that somehow come true? What has become of post-Christian Korea? Why have detachment and cravings become our spirituality?

Conventional understandings of Buddhism picture it as wisdom based on passivity and inaction. Answers are found through a turn inwards towards indifference and indolence. Life solely in a temple. Yet, it need not be understood as such. It is also human, social and political.

Though still a controversial figure for some, Haemin Sunim's 2012 book "The Things You Can See Only When You Slow Down" contains an idea worth reflecting upon: "Do not beg for attention from other people. As your abilities grow, you will naturally receive attention from other people. When you feel yourself unconsciously begging for attention, think, 'I still have to grow my abilities.' Never treat your noble self like a beggar."

Spending time at Weoljeonsa, I had the flagrantly obvious realization: I still need to grow my abilities. Moreover, I think I found a place to do it.

Dr. David A. Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) has a Ph.D. in Korean Studies and lectures at Seoul Women's University and Hanyang University. He is a social/cultural commentator and musician who has lived in Korea for nearly two decades. He is also the host of the Korea Deconstructed podcast, which can be found online. The views expressed in the article are the author's own and do not reflect the editorial direction of The Korea Times.