Recently, I reconnected with one of my closest college friends after several years apart.
They say kindred spirits recognize each other. We both came from humble backgrounds and studied hard to get into that school. Yet regrettably, it didn't take long for us to realize that we didn't quite fit in with the crowd there. Thus naturally marginalized, we instead suffered and wandered, constantly wrestling with existential questions as we sought a path toward the kind of life we truly wanted.
He found his answer in a self-sufficient life as a farmer and soon left for the remote countryside. I found my clue in art and within nowhere else but "myself", and that was how my journey began. As each of us ran fiercely in such different directions, we naturally grew apart before long.
A few years ago, I heard news of his marriage, but since I was living and working in Malaysia, we were unable to meet. When I reconnected with him through a screen this time, he was already a father of two, still living as a farmer stubbornly dedicated only to organic agriculture.
When I asked "How have you been?" to a face that remained so unchanged despite all the years that had passed, his response was unexpected. Around the time his first daughter turned two, he began to sense that she was a little different, and soon learned that it was a congenital developmental disability caused by a genetic defect. From then on, he spent several seasons booking appointments at almost all renowned hospitals across the country, leaving no stone unturned as he searched everywhere for a "something" he himself could not even identify.
Then, this past spring, he finally secured a visit at a major medical center home to Korea's top scholars and specialists. From that moment on, he waited for that day with absolute desperation. Yet the answer this young father received was simple and stark: "You must accept this."
"There is a forest in my heart. But, Tao, my forest has burned down more than ten times over the past few years. Now, I can't even sigh. I just want to hide." To run from that pain, he threw all his remaining energy into his farm, almost obsessively, without taking any care of himself.
There wasn't much I could say to him, who was experiencing the process of breaking, falling apart, burning, and rebuilding his existence dozens, if not hundreds, of times to accept something bigger than himself. I simply promised that we would see each other more often. As I read his heart through his eyes, all the problems in my life, big and small, became nothing.
© Text & Photos by Tao Jung