Mountain Journal — One Must Look Closely and Long
Yesterday, I spent the entire day wrapped in clouds.
At times, the rain poured down heavily with the passing clouds; at other times, a gentle drizzle fell softly.
The day felt chilly and desolate,
and the silence of the mountain valley seemed even deeper than usual.
On days like that, warm food becomes a comfort.
I shredded pumpkin and potatoes and made pancakes,
and that simple meal tasted wonderfully satisfying.
This morning was cloudy as well.
But by afternoon, the sky began to clear,
and a faint sunlight filtered through the clouds,
brightening the world little by little.
So I went out for a walk.
New wildflowers, unseen just a few days ago,
had begun to reveal their faces along the path.
“What is your name?”
“It’s good to meet you.”
Greeting the little flowers,
I walked slowly.
Then Na Tae-joo’s poem Wildflower came to mind:
You must look closely to see how beautiful it is.
You must look for a long time to see how lovely it is.
You are like that, too.
When I think about it,
to look closely is to give something your heart,
and to look for a long time is to love.
Love does not hurry.
It lingers,
observes quietly,
and accepts things as they are.
Perhaps that is why walking slowly
is a way of practicing love.
Today, once again, in this mountain village,
I offer my heart to nameless wildflowers
and learn how to look closely and long.
In this way,
day by day,
I live practicing love.
