Still, dying isn’t an option

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Still, dying isn’t an option

Published: 26 Mar. 2025, 00:04 Updated: 26 Mar. 2025, 17:42

Audio report: written by reporters, read by AI

Won Young

The author is a Buddhist monk and abbot of temple Cheongnyongam.

The older we get, the slower we heal. Even with my closely shaved head, white hairs are beginning to show, and with them come more aches and longer recoveries. The four elements — earth, water, fire, and wind — that make up our bodies must be falling out of balance. Little seems to come easily these days. That goes for the mind, too. Courage wanes while worries pile up. I used to think the mind didn't age, but emotionally, it certainly feels older. Maybe some more eagerly await spring the more they age.

Two people observe flower buds through falling snow flurries in Sangnim Park in Hamyang County, South Gyeongsang on March 18, when snow blanketed most part of the country with heavy snow advisories issued by the Korea Meteorological Administration. [NEWS1]

This year, I welcomed March with a personal promise: I would greet spring in my own special way. But this time of year is so strange. One moment it feels like spring has arrived, warmth in the air, and the next, a sudden chill makes you hunch your shoulders. I can’t control the weather, of course — but I can control what I choose to do. One day, with that thought in mind, a freak snowstorm swept in, and I dropped everything to go see the plum blossoms in Hwaeom Temple in Gurye County, South Jeolla.

I had checked with a monk I know to see if the blossoms had bloomed. He said they had — but it turned out only the ones in the Gurye township had. At Hwaeom Temple, nothing yet. My question had been too vague. I should’ve asked, “Are the blossoms blooming at the temple?”

At the temple, I happened to run into one of the monks, and I asked again, “When do the plum blossoms bloom here?”

The monk, with a kind face, laughed heartily. “How should I know?” he said.

“You should ask the blossoms themselves.”

“Ah,” I said. Another failed question.

So I stood there a while in front of the plum trees, chuckling to myself for reasons I couldn’t explain. The whole thing — the miscommunication, the cold, the non-blossoming trees — just seemed absurdly funny. Feeling the gaze of the monk next to me, I said, “They say the blossoms will bloom in two weeks.”

“There’s no use calculating too much at our age. Some happiness comes wrapped in ridiculous packaging.” That’s a line from “Happiness Has No Wrinkles,”(2017) a novel by Anne-Gaëlle Huon that I'd read the night before. I hadn’t overthought it — I just rushed across the country and ended up seeing only the plump, unopened buds. It wasn’t quite what I’d hoped for, but somewhere between excitement and disappointment, I found a quiet happiness.

And so it was, in a March dusted with snow across the country, I walked muddy paths and returned without blossoms. Not quite satisfied, but still — I had followed through on my spring plan. All the way back, I felt quietly happy.

We often measure our happiness by society’s standards. We convince ourselves that only success in a chosen field can bring fulfillment and then compare our own happiness against others’. Recently, someone confided in me that they wanted to end their life, overwhelmed by anguish — a sadness likely born from living a life far removed from what they wanted. When we spend too long doing something we don’t love, stress piles up and weighs us down.

But few people get to do only what they love — and even fewer find both success and recognition in doing so. Some pursue their passion and end up impoverished. Others stick with jobs they dislike simply because the pay is good. Often, people fall to one extreme or the other.

What’s the answer? The solution is simpler than we think: Either do what you love, or learn to love what you do. But of course, that’s easier said than done. Even when we know this, managing the mind is hard. Still, we can’t choose to die just because it’s difficult.

Apricot flowers bloom at Tongdo Temple in South Gyeongsang on March 12. [YONHAP]

I’m no exception. After shaving my head and becoming a monk, I realized that monastic life wasn’t necessarily the one I loved. But a long time ago, I made a conscious decision to love the life I chose. Thanks to that, I’ve lived in relative stability and balance. In Buddhism, happiness comes from inner peace — achieved by letting go of delusions — and from knowing contentment with little by abandoning greed. The Buddha taught that in order to be free of suffering, one must first find and extinguish its cause. I studied that truth with great effort and chose this way of life to embody it.

We already know how to live freely and peacefully. We don’t need anyone to take care of us to survive. Even if our hearts are fragile like eggshells, we can still find a way to live. We all die eventually — so what’s the point of thinking about death now? As the old saying goes, “Better to roll in a dung heap in this life than lie in a golden bed in the next.” So let’s hold on. Somewhere out there, spring is coming.

Translated using generative AI and edited by Korea JoongAng Daily staff.