Reflections on language, dreams, and the art of listening

The author embarks on a reflective journey, weaving together personal observations on language, dreams, and the search for meaning. A walk in the mountains leads to a lost path, prompting a reflection on the nature of guidance: "The path is underfoot. But if you only look at your feet, you will get lost. The path is underfoot, and also in the North Star in the distant sky." This duality, the need to balance the immediate reality with a guiding vision, is presented as essential for navigating life.

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The path is underfoot. But if you only look at your feet, you will get lost. The path is underfoot, and also in the North Star in the distant sky.

A vivid dream of sketching a sports car named 'Incredibly Cool Bride' sparks a contemplation on the evolution of language. The author notes the casual use of the word '좆나' (a strong intensifier) by younger generations, tracing its etymological roots and contrasting it with its absence in older dictionaries. This leads to a broader observation about how language changes reflect shifts in human thought, citing the subtle, less definitive speech patterns of contemporary youth as an example. The author finds a profound philosophical expression in these nuanced statements, likening them to ancient philosophical ideas about the continuous flow of existence.

Further reflections arise from a dream about visiting someone in Gwangmyeong, where a passage from the I Ching is recalled. The dream's whisper, "The light that exists everywhere is the beginning and end of all things, but the center that makes it exist is deep within, in darkness," suggests that true understanding lies not in superficial observation but in delving into the core. The author questions the need for a journey when one's current location, Eunseon in Chungju, is already a "center."

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The light that exists everywhere is the beginning and end of all things, but the center that makes it exist is deep within, in darkness.

The narrative shifts to more grounded observations: a village elder's sign opposing a solar power plant, humorously suggesting it be built after their deaths, and the news of the passing of a 108-year-old woman, Ms. Yeoseok, a former teacher from Mokpo. The author contemplates his role in her funeral arrangements, ultimately deciding to let go of the need to plan, trusting that things will unfold as they should.

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We only live for so long. After we die, do it.

Finally, the author recounts meeting the beloved children's author Gwon Jeong-saeng in a dream. Gwon, depicted as a monk with a shaved head, explains his role as 'Cheong-eum' (Listening Sound), dedicated to mediating disputes by simply listening to both sides without imposing his own thoughts. This practice, he explains, brings quietude to a noisy world, creating a moment of profound peace when one truly listens without self-interest. The dream concludes with a playful, yet poignant, exchange about the nature of life and death, emphasizing that true existence transcends such boundaries.

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What is your role here? To live up to my name. When there is a dispute that causes noise, I go and listen to both sides.