Seasonal contemplations
“Did you know? South korea has 4 seasons!”
It is one of those famous absurd lines you probably have heard from a Korean interlocutor. Personally, more times than I have bothered to count! An absurdity that was reminded to me by a friend recently since Korea doesn’t have 4 seasons, it has 24.
Of course now it feels like an old calendar (절기) that not so many people follow anymore but it did inspire this post, because 24 or 4, seasons in Korea are indeed something to witness.
And what better example of that flexibility of nature than the mountain. Where humans have built temples as a display of our strength over nature, our resilience over nature’s power but most of all how nature and humans are one, complimenting one another.
I intend to create a series of these seasonal pictures, so let me take you along to places where nature and man simply are, in harmony.
Let’s start with the season that will soon be upon us: summer. Now that flowers are dying we will be entering the humid season. It means 3 things: nature is at its lushest, waterfalls flow loud and proud and you’ll likely start taking more than one shower a day! Though we, humans, may not deal with heat and humidity so well, it isn’t the same for the vegetal realm, it never is more vividly green. Add to this a roaring waterfall and you get a typical wondrous view of korean summer nature.
Such views has been portrayed by old painters, captured in black ink on bright paper, and still today, even in photography, the philosophical lessons traditional painters conveyed are still very alive. The thoughts that surface into me being at that place is that feeling of constant movement. Water falls tirelessly, western wind sways leaves smoothly, and colors, from the temple or the surroundings, keep my senses fully awake, in motion. If you need motivation to move on in your life, take a look at a dragon/waterfall in summer, it will teach you all you need to know about yourself.
Next comes autumn. It is my favorite season. Even though the cold of winter is just around the corner and the lush of summer is slowly dying away, this is a season that makes me the most contemplative: it makes me reflect on the finite nature of human life.
Yes, all trees die eventually, yes all mountains will eventually disappear, even the universe has an expiry date. But witnessing the year cycle nature goes through I can’t help but think that maybe beauty lies, as the greeks thought, in the cosmos; in that clash of infinite and finite. I take solace in the consideration that parts of me will, maybe, feed those beautiful trees, feed that whole cycle of life towards which, one day, another photographer will point their lens.
And we arrive at the last season of this post: winter. My favorite hiking season; there’s nothing remotely like hearing my footsteps crunching the snow, surrounded by the quietness of bare trees. Seeing the light inversion of the white ground being brighter than the sky, especially on a clear night. Feeling the cold rushing through my nose and clearing my lungs, the cold stinging my face, redening my skin, the cold rendering my breath visible, the cold being the ultimate obstacle to my ascent, to life forms around me, to water, frozen in place. Until warmer days...
This might be what water, frozen halfway down that fall, is thinking: when can I flow again? Or the hiker: when will I be back down, having a warm shower? That white snow symbolises a shelter for all the expectations winter inevitably brings along. In a way temples are the same; a shelter containing all the expectation of answers to existencial questions mortal humans have. Only, we don’t have a spring.
If you want to visit this temple, it is called 경수사 (Gyeongsu Temple), situtated near the bottom of 불암산 (Bulam Mountain) on the west side. You can use this naver map link or google map link. It is hardly a hike so anyone can go.
Thank you for reading so far, as usual if you have place suggestions or subject suggestions leave me a message.
Until the next story!
