Rumi: Say I Am You (Sufi poem)

Le Festin

A girl's dream

There was a girl who hated her life.

She hated everything, everyone.

Nobody cared about her, no one told her she could do something great. 

She thought she was born in wrong place.

Everything surrounding her was misery, fake, greed and jealousy.

She wondered, why don't they just live with smile, and ...just being happy?? 

Why being happy and feeling satisfied should be so complicated? Are we born to be grumpy and suffering in bitterness all our lives??  

A girl questioned and questioned.

She couldn't speak out, no children ask these questions to adults. Even if she asked, they would probably said, "shut up, and go in your room and study!" 

She dreamed an utopia. She created her own world with imagination. 

As she grew up, she pretended she was listening to the society. Or else, she would be struck by teacher, classmates, and the system of education. They all hated someone who spoke up. The truth is I had no confidence to stand alone. I wanted to blend in. I didn't want to be alone.

Being alone is pretty scary. We, humans are born to be together. But I couldn't find people I wanted to be together. 

Family was shaking. Father, Mother were unhappy people. Uncles, aunts were struggling to survive. It seemed everyone in the world was living in sadness and misery. I haven't seen them smile brightly. Maybe smiling was forbidden. Maybe smiling was attracting other's jealousy. Happy people were supposed to live somewhere else. Maybe that was the logic to them. I don't know. I really want to know but I don't think they would tell me. 

PEOPLE ARE SUPPOSED TO HIDE THEIR JOY, SMILE, AND HAPPINESS.  I wish someone tells me that this idea is wrong. 

Tonight, I found something striking. I have learned that my words can make people intrigued. Group of writers gave me positive feedback that I need to tell more stories.

Write, write, write, Sun Hee! Tell us more stories! I want to know more about Korean culture, economic collapse, your father, your high school, your dream. What makes you follow your dream? Be more specific! Give us more details! 

나의 이름은 윤선희입니다. 이제부터 제 이야기를 시작하겠습니다. 

My name is Yoon, Sun Hee. I'm about to tell you my stories. 

Monologue on Monday afternoon.

I needed a break seriously. With a mug of coffee, I can breathe deeply once more.

It's the lowest moment of the day; between 3-5 p.m. Rushing out, getting in and out all over the places for 8 hours straight made me worn out already. Although my energy level is close to 0, I am still trying to find way to change my mood and recharging it for the evening. As usual, writing helps me to change my perspective to the world, to my life.

In a glance to the outside from my window, the sky is clear, bird's chirping, the daffodils on the sidewalk starts to bloom.

There are plenty of beauties around me, but when I feel low and loaded with fatigue, I just CAN'T see them.

What a pity! What a waste of life if I can't enjoy this beauty of nature.

Time goes by, season changes, and how much did I wish to have warm spring sunbeams??  

I love to make myself keeping busy, but what's the purpose of being busy? 

Oh, yes. I'm a mom.

I am going whenever, wherever my kid needs to go; for her education, for her social activities, for her bright future. Because I want her to be a happy, and I don't want her to lose a smile. Her excitement, joy and pure smile make all worth what I do. 

Yes, I'm a wife. I want to show him how much I care about him working hard to support our family. My usual gratitude is making delicious homey dinner. I want him to be excited to come home and eat my food. That's my other way of saying Thank you and Love you to him. Showing how much I love, how much I care others can be many ways, but I believe serving food with sincere heart is the top of all. 

In a way, my energy is recharging right now by thinking of whom I love the most. Indeed, LOVE is the greatest of all. Now, I'm gonna go to cook dinner. Tonight menu - Pork cutlet (돈까스)!!

Edith Piaf - L'hymne à l'amour (paroles)

Kimchi - (from 793 words to 513)

Kimchi

When I'm tired, I eat Kimchi. When I'm sad, I eat Kimchi. Tonight I talked to my mom over the phone, and her voice brought me a reminiscence.  As a ritual, I pulled out a jar of Kimchi.

  
Yes, I'm a Kimchi folk. I grew up with this, and it became part of my identity. Now, I live 5000 miles away from Korean peninsula , yet whenever I smell of Kimchi, I’m home.   
Now, I can say I'm proud of being called Kimchi generation. The feeling of proud didn’t occur at the beginning, but as time went by I have realized - either I liked it or not - Kimchi was part of me. Eventually, I learned how to accept it.  Kimchi has been an invisible yet strong thread, which connected me with my culture, reminded me where I'm from.

  
Whenever I eat Kimchi, I eat my memories. With one bite, I go back to my mom's kitchen.
I see a girl who's waiting for a newly-made Kimchi of the year. There are at least 5 boxes of Napa cabbage which have been marinated in salt water for over night. Next, I see a bucket of freshly grounded chili pepper that has all red velvet texture with yellow seed sprinkled. I smell of minced garlic, chopped spring onion, sliced radish and the essential ingredient - fish extraction. (By the way, I’ve learned smelly cheese is as bad as fish sauce. On my second thought, maybe I’m wrong.) My mom mixes all these ingredients into a thick paste. She uses her bare hands. She used to tell me the best taste of food comes from bare hand and sincere heart. Her magical hands paint the plain Napa cabbage into red leaves one by one, from sturdy outer leaves into soft, tiny bud. Whenever I see the colored red Napa cabbage, it reminds me red rose petals. My mom was an artist and magician.  At last, I see a girl who’s hoping her mom would give a little piece of Kimchi into her mouth.
“Do you want to taste it?”
“Yes, yes! Please!”
My mom folds the tiniest and softest layer of kimchi and slided it into my mouth with smile. That was taste of my mom’s love.

  
With one more bite, I fly to Mok-po girls’ high school. It’s lunch time. In my classroom, 45 girls in identical uniform pull out individual lunch box. We are hungry. Our brain needs extra fuel to store tons of knowledge. We gather up 3 to 5 members in a circle and share our ban-chan( side dishes). Everyone’s favorite is fried ham or sausage which are usually gone fast in a speed of light. There are invisible competitions between these ban-chan. Although we have our favorites, we can’t conclude our lunch without Kimchi. I used to wrap a spoonful of rice with sliced-cut Kimchi at the end of my meal. It was like putting a period at the end of sentence.

  When I visited USA for 2 weeks in 1993, the first thing in my mind on the day we arrived was having Kimchi. I desperately wanted Kimchi stew with rice for a dinner, but instead what I got was a fried chicken with Coke. That night, I cried for Kimchi for the first time. I realized how big its existence was in my life.  It was the case of wake-up call realization;  when a thing was detached or absent from us, we realize we took it for granted to be there for us.

  
In 2002, I studied abroad in Australia and New Zealand for 6 months. Among 60 members of international exchange students, I wasn’t the only one who was hungry for Kimchi. Someone told me they would go to Korean grocery to buy a jar of Kimchi. It took us more than 2 hours to get to the store, but it was all worth it in the end, especially when we put a slice of Kimchi on top of steamy ramen noodle.
  We even joined the Korean church while we were studying in New Zealand because we could have decent meal with Kimchi at the end of service. When I didn’t have money to buy a jar of Kimchi, I was longing for Sundays.   

  
I've been living outside of Korea since 2002. Throughout my living overseas, I've tasted, learned, cooked, fusion-ed all different style of cultural cuisine. I'm blessed to have this opportunity. However, I know where my root of appetite lies. I'll never get away from my Kimchi gene. As my body proves, I'm craving for Kimchi whenever I feel sick, tired and lonely.
Yes, Kimchi is my life troubleshooting, my own remedy.

***

  When I'm tired, I eat Kimchi. When I'm sad, I eat Kimchi. Tonight I talked to my mom over the phone, and her voice brought me a reminiscence.  As a ritual, I pulled out a jar of Kimchi.
Whenever I eat Kimchi, I eat my memories. With one bite, I go back to my mom's kitchen.
I see a girl who's waiting for a newly-made Kimchi of the year. There are more than 5 boxes of Napa cabbage which have been marinated in salt water through the night. Next, I see a bucket of freshly grounded chili pepper that has red velvet texture with yellow seed sprinkled. I smell of minced garlic, chopped spring onion, sliced radish and the essential ingredient - fish extraction. My mom mixes all these ingredients into a thick paste. She uses her bare hands. She used to tell me the best taste of food comes from bare hands and sincere heart. Her magical hands paint the plain Napa cabbage into red leaves one by one, from sturdy outer leaves into soft, tiny bud. These red cabbages remind me red roses layer upon layer. Finally, I see a girl who’s hoping her mom would give a little piece of Kimchi into her mouth.
“Do you want to taste it?”
“Yes, yes! Please!”
My mom folds the tiniest and softest layer of kimchi and slided into my mouth with smile. That was the taste of my mom’s love.
When I visited USA for 2 weeks in 1993, the first thing in my mind as soon as we arrived was having Kimchi. I desperately wanted Kimchi stew with rice for a dinner, but instead I got a fried chicken with Coke. That night, I cried for Kimchi for the first time. I realized how big its existence was in my life. It was the case of wake-up call; when a thing is absent from us, we realize we took it for granted to be there.
 In 2002, I studied abroad in Australia and New Zealand for 6 months. Among 60 members of international exchange students, I wasn’t the only one who was hungry for Kimchi. Someone told me they would go to Korean grocery to buy a jar of Kimchi. It took us more than 2 hours to get to the store, but it was all worth it in the end, especially when we laid a slice of Kimchi on top of steamy ramen noodle.
We even attended the Korean church while we were studying in New Zealand because we could have decent meal with Kimchi at the end of service. When I didn’t have money to buy a jar of Kimchi, I was longing for Sundays.   
Yes, I'm a Kimchi folk. I grew up with this strong scented food, and it became part of my identity. Now, I live 5000 miles away from Korean peninsula , yet whenever I smell of Kimchi, I’m home. Kimchi has been an invisible yet strong thread, which connects me with my culture, and it reminds me where I'm from.

A Little girls' dream

   I used to watch Disney movie countless times when I was a little girl.
My first movie was The Beauty and the Beast, which I watched in the movie theater on summer vacation on my 3rd grade. It blew my mind at once and I fell in love with its styles of everything. Later, my mom and dad bought me whole set of Disney VHS movie. The day I got the box of movies, I prayed that there would be The Little Mermaid. Please, please, please...YES!!! There was The  Little Mermaid and it was mine. I played instantly and watched and watched so that I could remember all the lyrics and images. It was colorful, beautiful and had wonderful songs with unforgettable tune. I used to dream about these Disney girl's adventure and I wondered what kind of adventure would wait for me in the future.
   I was not more than 12, but I knew what made me happy and what made me dream. Most of all, I knew what made my heart beat strongly. I imagined, I sang a song, I pretended and I desired. I can't forget the very first wakeup call on my heart beat. I still remember the goose bump on my arm as I got so excited. I don't remember whom I went with to the theater on the very first day, but I remember the feeling I had. Also, I remember sitting right next to TV while Part of your world echoed in the bedroom. I wished, I longed...and now here I am.

RSA Animate - 21st century enlightenment

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할머니 편히 쉬세요.

  할머니...
  저 선희에요. 할머니의 첫 손주, 선희는 방금 할머니의 임종소식을 들었답니다.
전화를 끊고나서 저는 한동안 멍하니 앉아있었지요.
할머니의 점점 약해져가는 건강소식은 목포에 계시는 아빠와 동생 민석이를 통해서 듣고 있었기에 갑작스러운 소식은 아니였지만, 막상 우리 할머니가 이 세상에 저희와 같이 계시지 않는 다는 사실에 감당하지 못할 아픔이 밀려왔답니다.
할머니의 마지막 목소리를 올 초 구정에 들었는데, 그것이 마지막이 될 것이라곤 생각치 않았어요. 할머니의 가느다란 목소리가 제 귀에는 아직도 쟁쟁합니다.
  "선희야, 한국에 언제 안 오냐? 수린이는 건강히 잘 지내지?"

 벌써 한국을 다녀온지 1년 반이 지났습니다.
한국을 떠나기전 할머니와 했던 약속을 다시한번 꺼내어 봅니다.
   "선희야, 1년 뒤에 한국 또 와라."
이 손주는 그 마지막 약속을 지키지 못했습니다. 할머니, 용서 하세요.

 자식은 부모 가까이서 사는 것이 효도의 원칙이라는 말을 익히 들어 알고있지만, 저는 자식이 행복하게 사는 것이야 말로 부모를 진정으로 기쁘게 해주는 것이라고 항상 믿어왔고 또 그렇게 실천하여 왔습니다.
 그러나 오늘 밤, 이 시간 만큼은 저 머나먼 땅에서 가족과 멀리 떨어져 사는 제가 너무나도 밉고, 애통합니다. 할머니, 마지막 저 먼길 가시는 길에 직접 영정에 가서 절도 못하는 할머니의 첫 손주를 용서하셔요.
  할머니의 영혼이 이 세상을 뜨시기전에, 할머니 살아생전에 머물었던 모든 장소와 할머니와 인연을 맺었던 모든 이들을 한번씩 거쳐가신다면, 이 곳 시카고에서 한 맺힌 눈물을 흘리며 편지를 올리는 저, 선희를 어루만져주시고 가셔요.

  나의 할머니, 고선단 여사님은 외유내강의 전형적인 표상이십니다. 겉으로 거창하게 표현을 나타내지 않으셨지만 마음만큼은 어느 누구보다도 강하고, 자애로우셨습니다.
  나의 할머니, 고선단 여사님은 비록 가난한 농부의 아내로 생계를 어렵사리 꾸려나가셨지만, 그 어느 누구 못지 않게 7남매를 자랑스럽게 키워내셨습니다.
  나의 할머니, 그 분의 7남매를 향한 모성애는 당시 어린 제 눈과 귀에도 대단히 느껴졌습니다.

   할머니는 당신의 자녀들이 제대로 된 교육을 받을 수 있도록, 시골 벽지인 도초면에서부터 모든 열성과 투지를 쏟아 부으셨습니다. 하지만 당신은 배우지 못한 한에 평생을 아파하셨습니다. 할머니의 씁쓸히 웃는 얼굴과 흰 것은 종이요, 검정 것은 글씨로다, 하는 말이 귀에 쟁쟁 합니다.
   또한, 할머니가 소중히 가지고 다니시던, 손 때가 닿을대로 닿은 가족들 전화기록부가 제 눈에는 아직도 생생합니다. 그 전화기록부 안에는 마치 어린아이가 쓴 것과 같은 가족들 이름과 전화번호가 큼직하게 자리잡고 있었지요. 할머니의 가족사랑과 그들의 안부를 마음속으로 하나하나 조심스럽게 펼쳐 놓으시던 당신의 모습이 아직도 선합니다.
 
  이제 엄마가 된 제 눈에 할머니의 쉽게 굽히지 않은 끈기와 자식에 대한 열정은 너무나도 크게 보입니다. 자식을 향한 헌신적 사랑과 그들이 겪고 있는 일들이 마치 자신이 겪는 것 처럼 가슴 아파하시던 나의 할머니.. 저는 당신에게서 많은 것을 배웁니다.
 비록 할머니는 이 세상에 계시지 않지만, 제가 다음에 한국을 방문하더라도 저는 할머니의 온기를 느낄 수 없겠지만, 제 기억속에 할머니는 굳게 자리잡고 계십니다.
   할머니를 떠 올리며 저는 제 아이를 사랑하겠습니다. 내게 너무나도 소중한 제 아이를 할머니의 자애롭고 끝없는 사랑으로 키우겠습니다. 이 길이야말로 제가 할머니를 평생 제 마음속에 기리는 길이 될 것이고, 이로 인해 할머니는 영원히 살아계실 것입니다.
  할머니, 부디 편안히 행복하게 쉬세요.

태평양 건너 미국땅, 시카고에서 

할머니의 첫 손녀딸, 윤선희 올림 

True beauty

When I was a little girl, I loved to look at my mom, looking at herself in a mirror.
Whenever my mom put her make-up on her face, I wished to put them on myself in the future. Sometimes, I looked at myself in the mirror and wished to be beautiful. It was such a magic to become beautiful with colorful palette of cosmetics. She covered her uneven color-tone face with make-up foundation and created smooth creamy surface. On top of that, layers and layers of cream and powders followed to create doll-look like face. My mom used to spend more than 1 hour each day to put make-up. I was curious and fascinated of her world. I sat next to my mom and watched her on every step whenever I got the chance. She was a pure artist. Every layer and every line on her face had to be perfect. Yes, I think she was more likely a perfectionist in her own way.

Time goes by, I started to question in my head while I looked at my mom who still invested her precious time so long to cover her face.
  What's the point covering our faces with all kinds of make-up to be beautiful, and in fact we aren't that beautiful inside??? 
Since this question resided in my mind, I always ask myself whenever I see glittering, fabulous beauties.
  How beautiful are they in real?? What's the proportion of their surface beauty and inner beauty? How much do they pour their time and money and effort to be merely BEAUTIFUL?? 

I don't know. In fact, I'm not sure if I want to know. The core question for myself is that how much beautiful do I want to be. How much beautiful do I want to be?

Socrates on self-confidence

My draining body is energized by this short documentary, feeding me brilliant ideas of Socrates. This is exactly what I needed to listen. I guess philosophy is the backbone of my life.

Mind sketching on Saturday morning

Mind sketch 

Sun Hee Yoon 

I look up the sky and it's gray. All the winter tree branches are trembling once again from severe Chicagoan wind. I felt the warmth of wind yesterday but I guess it's too early to be exiceted of spring's visit. I felt trees were happy to have gentle and warm breeze, finally the long and dreadful winter is coming to end. All day they were slow-dancing in a music of sunbeam until it curtains down with burning sunset.  However, this morning I feel their disappointment. I can see their downcast shoulders over my livingroom window. 

"Be patient.." I hear the mother tree tells the baby ones, with her gentle and soothing voice.  

"The winter is on his way for long sleep. Soon, we will grow our new buds of leaves, and before you notice it will be green beds of young tree leaves everywhere."

"But, Mom!! All the snow has gone, and Mrs. Robbin went out for a walk with her kids yesterday! I can't wait for spring." 

"I know, My children. I understand how you feel. But we shouldn't be fooled by wicked winter wind. They are very tricky and they know what we want. It's no use to fight against the evil nature. All we need to do is be patient and wait until the time is right."

"When?? When will it be, Mom??"

The mother tree smiles at the impatient treelets, "You will know, my children. You will know." 

I feel what they feel. I hear what they talk. I see what others don't see. I write what my heart tells me to write.

This is Saturday morning and I fly all over the places with my imagination. There is no limit that I can't visit - I can visit to Korea where my mom is sleeping by now. I will lay down myself next to her and feel her heartbeat. I'd love to touch her no-makeup face and stroke down gently. I'd love to hold her rough hands and feet, hoping it soothes her cracked skin. I'd love to write a note saying, 엄마 사랑해요. 

I believe this hard-to-control emotion is spurring my tear glands. I can't restrain myself but by writing, I can feel free. 

Writing has been my psychological, emotional therapy and by doing this, I can heal myself from pain. The pains in my heart and continious poisons in a life are less likely to stop. Maybe, we humans are born to be suffering from birth to death. My mortal fate was doomed since the beginning. But I'm trying to fight the gravity. Some says it's useless effort, but I believe I'm born to fight against the forces which bring me down. 

I'm a warrior rather than a soldier, who fights with her own dignity without having orders from upper ground.  I seek wise and healthy outlet to survive for a long term. I train myself to sacrifice short term desire but wait for a chance to jump high. No..I like making my own path instead of following others. It's not because I'm better than others, I am not that arrogant person. I feel there are so many things to learn from people, especially the young and old. I'm realizing new things every day and it's my pure joy. That's really fun part of  getting old - I can understand better about things.

I'm not afraid of getting old, in fact I can't wait to see myself at the age of 50, 60 and 70 as long as I breathe and write. I try not to dwell in the past, but live in the present, and most importantly - always be excited about future.

I still don't know who I am. It's gonna be a long journey to find out who I am, maybe I will never figure it out until I leave this world. But I know this inner searching has proved so many great things in me already and I can say I enjoy the air with every single breath I take and I'm delighted to be part of this world.   

A letter to my dear friend, Stacey

I have to blink my eyes so that my tears dry up. I can't drain my tears before finishing my letters to you. After reading your letters to me, my feelings toward you overflowed and I know I need to write a letter back.

My dear friend Stacey. 

This beautiful midnight on mid-March, I just finished reading chapter 6 of The Liar's club by Mary Karr. I had  trouble to connect the story few days ago and this time, I wanted to force myself to finish it. Not because it's a discussion piece in Memoir class which I'm attending next Tuesday, but I wanted to listen to her story. 

Whenever I hear stories from people, any people, I try to imagine their life and try to feel what they must have felt during that period. When people say something, especially when they write about it, it's because they think about it more often. At least, it is true in my case. There are certain things, events or memories lingering in my brain and I can't help myself but talk or write about them. 

Tonight, I'm thinking of you, my friend. I have mixed feeling whenever I think of you. Recently, the feeling of guilt has grown since I heard that you are moving to Boston in August. I felt like I'm ineligible to be called your friend.

I blamed myself not being so close since you moved to Springfield. I could call you at least once a week, I could e-mail you once a month, I could drive down to Springfield since I got my driver license. I could do all of these things but I couldn't do any of these. I don't want to highlight my lame excuses such as my writing classes and SL's all kinds of classes and play-dates. I just want you to know how I think of you, whenever I want to call your name.  

Do you remember when you told me that you were moving to Springfield in August, 2009? Do you remember my face and tears? My heart was wrenching by shocking news. There were so many words, and talks that I wanted to share. But I didn't know where to start. My words couldn't convey fully what I had felt then. 

You've seen me for more than a year by then, since we met in spring 2008 at Lincoln-Belmont library. We visited there individually, pushing our girls' stroller. No matter how we can describe our first encountering, I still believe it was strong force of destiny which we were meant to be collided, in right time, right place. 

I clearly remember how desperate I was to meet new friends in new town, and I wasn't confident to speak English in public place. When I finally got confidence to visit local library, by the way, I had to make sentences beforehand to ask a librarian concerning story time for little ones. As you know, I was scared to talk to anybody and I didn't want to make myself embarrassed and get reddish face. I wanted to be natural even if I couldn't understand their fast speed sentence, I wanted to try. 

There, you showed up right behind me. 

"Oh! There is a story time at Barns & Nobles on Clybourn. If you wanna go there, I can give you a lift and  take our girls together." 

Stacey..you were there. You were there to lift my spirit and gave me an assurance that someone from somewhere listens to my feeble voice.

How can I forget your first sentence that you ever talked to me? You lighted up my life with your gentle and warm kindness in the darkest time. You listened to me whenever I underwent intense stress and isolation throughout the toughest time of my life. You understood me and felt my pain as if you were the other side of me. You taught me how to laugh, how to enjoy the moments although I felt like I was dying. 

You are a genuine person who shines everybody around you spirit bright.

You are an intelligent person who can speak up ideas and thoughts so fluently.

You are the most generous, thoughtful and kind person I ever met. 

You also taught me that I shouldn't litter the a garbage piece on the alley. 

I'm extremely lucky to know a wonderful person, Stacey Grant. I want you to know one thing which matters to me the most- you reside in my deepest heart, and you will be there forever.  I love you. 

Sun Hee 

The Art of War

The Art of War has been applied to many fields well outside of the military. Much of the text is about how to fight wars without actually having to do battle: it gives tips on how to outsmart one's opponent so that physical battle is not necessary. As such, it has found application as a training guide for many competitive endeavors that do not involve actual combat.



During the Sengoku era in Japan, a daimyo named Takeda Shingen (1521–1573) is said to have become almost invincible in all battles without relying on guns, because he studied The Art of War.[19] The book even gave him the inspiration for his famous battle standard "Fūrinkazan" (Wind, Forest, Fire and Mountain), meaning fast as the wind, silent as a forest, ferocious as fire and immovable as a mountain.

  

     知己知彼，百戰不殆。

If you know both yourself and your enemy, you can win a hundred battles without a single loss.