("나빌레라/Navillera” is a poetic Korean expression for moving lightly and gracefully, like a butterfly. It conveys a sense of free-flowing movement, effortless in both body and mind, as well as the resilience to gently float and soar once more.)
1.
To be natural likely means being at ease, and being at ease likely means that forced tension has fallen away. Looking back on my life up to this day, I cannot help but admit that it has, in fact, been nothing but a history of countless failures, trial and error, and chaos. Yet, even amid all that, there were occasional moments when I managed to accomplish, in my own way, something like a leap of my own. When I reflect on the changes that would take place within me whenever I reached that point of ignition, above all, I become capable of releasing the tension from my body. With one more leap, I could feel that I had become capable of releasing that tension one level deeper.
And by doing so, things that were previously impossible began to be realized one by one. I became able to float on water, to dance, and to subtly sense the countless variations of energy within nature that are usually difficult to perceive. Although it happens only occasionally, I also became able to eavesdrop on the stories that trees and forests tell and often converse with them. I view these as things that naturally become possible above all when the mind is at ease, and thus the forced tension that stiffens the body slowly and little by little unbinds. Therefore, when what has been suppressed in body and mind accumulates again as I go through life, and an unnatural state of tension continues, the connection with whatever I had temporarily reached breaks and moves away from me once more.
It seems that this season has been quietly guiding me to delve deeper into experience and experiment with the mystery of living with less strain. Perhaps thanks to that, these days, whether on a sunny day when I wander aimlessly until I reach some open field or a quiet forest path, or at the end of a leisurely morning after a deep sleep, clinging to that lingering sense of laziness, if I quietly close my eyes and open my arms wide, my body soon begins to sway, and I often find myself drifting and drifting toward somewhere out there, as if floating on water or like a balloon.
Whether I am experiencing some mystical phenomenon or it is purely a fantasy I have made up, such things do not matter, as the core of the thoughts I wish to unfold through this writing is not about such things. Even while floating up like that and drifting aimlessly somewhere in that vast sky, and when I, with my feet planted on the ground, suddenly lift my head and quietly watch that distant self of mine floating away, and when I come back down to earth and once again live in the reality before me, the more important and most important questions I carry always converge in one place. That is, 'How can I, whether by changing my environment or by changing some part of myself, let go of a little more tension, ride a slightly more natural flow, and swim through the days of this life?'
Of course, in reality, it seems that all such pure contemplation disappears without a trace, and I end up enduring like a tired workhorse, exerting every bit of strength I have, and relying on all kinds of caffeine and energy drinks to keep going.
2.
A few summers ago, I fell into the worst burnout of my life, without even knowing that it was burnout, floundering in a swamp whose cause I did not understand and whose end I knew even less. As for that summer, I will likely have a chance before long to talk about it in detail in another piece of writing. Anyway, to make a long story short, the pain had become so unbearable that I found myself thinking about death once again. It was only after I had been driven all the way to the edge of a cliff that, as if drawn by some force, I aimlessly took to the road with nothing but a backpack. And for a little over two months that summer, I did nothing but walk and walk on my own two feet, crossing the country along national highways in this direction and then traversing it again in that direction.
There was no destination on that trip. The only purpose of that journey was to face something far hotter than the pain inside me, something strong enough to overpower even my internal anguish, and thereby survive to the very end. So every day, I walked chasing nothing but the sun, and at the end of that summer, I ultimately survived. I clarify here beforehand that the story that follows is about a single day during that summer spent on the road.
That day, when I woke up at the inn and opened the window, the sky was excessively blue despite the early hour, and the heat was already blazing and rushing in. Though the weather was so diligently bright, I missed my chance for breakfast and set out much later than usual while catching up on a few overdue tasks. Having pushed myself to walk over forty kilometers a day since that Monday, perhaps even this still-usable body of mine wanted to slack off a bit just for that day. At any rate, it was that kind of morning. The heat was so formidable that the moment I set foot on the road, the thought struck me: 'Ah, if I keep walking in this weather, I might actually die.'
As soon as I left the town of Yanggu in Gangwon Province where I had stayed the night, the road began to wind and gradually climb toward a pass reaching six hundred meters above sea level, and at its end stretched a four-lane national highway known as "the Center of the Nation Road." And there I was on that road, trudging along with a backpack containing one frozen plastic bottle, a couple of bottles of water, a bottle of a soft drink, and a few other modest odds and ends, like some kind of water peddler. It was not easy, but not unbearable either; it was certainly hot, but far from impossible to walk. But the truth was that walking under such a scorching sun, with a pack weighing down my shoulders, soon left my mind in a haze and dulled all my senses.
However, I could tell that I was getting hungry as noon passed. Yet right then, I came upon an untended peach tree on the edge of the country road, and on it hung plump fruits, beautifully flushed red and lovely to look at. I suppose I should confess that, that day, I stood under that tree, looking rather worn and unkempt, and for a moment, as if I had lost my mind, I devoured four or five peaches in an instant. They were bland, with hardly any sweetness to them, so under normal circumstances I wouldn't have eaten them so ravenously, but at that moment, practically blinded by extreme hunger, I was in no position to care about such things.
Anyway, the real story begins here, for as I was walking along enjoying myself, the sky suddenly changed color and an ominous feeling swept over me. Just in case, I hurriedly checked the weather app, but fortunately, there was no rain in the forecast. Besides, I had a disposable raincoat stashed in my backpack for times like this, so I quickly convinced myself that it was nothing to worry about and decided to keep walking.
And in truth, it was something I reminded myself of every time I encountered rain on the road during this journey: everything in my pack could get soaked for all I cared, and a few paper bills were easy enough to dry; thus, rain had never once stopped me from carrying on.
Little did I know, as I was acting so bold and full of bravado, that those suspicious atmospheric currents would turn in an instant into a downpour accompanied by thunder and lightning. When the raindrops first began to patter down, I could at least put on a raincoat or stand under a roadside tree to pretend to take shelter. That day, however, without warning, the drops turned into heavy rain and then into a wild, pouring torrent. And right then, of all places, I was walking along a remote mountain road between two isolated mountain regions, and as luck would have it, there wasn't even a spot as small as an adult's palm nearby where I could take shelter, so I ended up standing there, completely drenched from head to toe in that pouring rain.
Looking back, though, what was funny was my own reaction to the situation. I was genuinely flustered, unable to figure out what to do, yet the whole thing was so absurd that I couldn't help but chuckle to myself. I tried to act as though nothing was wrong, like someone completely detached from all the affairs of the world, but at the same time, I was genuinely becoming anxious, and my footsteps kept urging me on.
Anyway, relying on that flimsy plastic raincoat, I spent the next few minutes alternating between running and walking. And as I rounded a bend, a derelict building that looked as though it had once been an agricultural processing plant finally appeared a short distance ahead. Thinking, 'This is it!', I sprinted toward it without a second thought, but even that dilapidated ruin apparently had an owner, for every entrance was firmly locked with a padlock. Left with no choice, I circled the building and found a plastic greenhouse that looked like a storage shed around the back, where I was finally able to take shelter.
But honestly, calling it a greenhouse was a stretch. The plastic sheeting, clearly abandoned for years, was so rotted through that, except for a small patch barely large enough to shelter me, almost all the rain poured straight through it. On top of that, even standing on a double layer of wooden pallets, the water kept rising from the ground as if there were no drainage at all. To make matters even worse, after walking a good fifteen kilometers in the scorching morning heat, my feet throbbed relentlessly, and everything I was wearing, my shoes, socks, and underwear included, was completely soaked. It was, quite literally, an unprecedented mess of epic proportions.
Still, even though it was crude, having a ceiling and walls gave me room to take a breath, so I took off my raincoat to wrap my backpack first, and sat there for quite a while without moving an inch.
Back then, I felt like I was thinking about something, but at the same time, thinking about nothing. No, I was definitely thinking a lot, and a good part of it seems to have been about things I should have done differently, like retracing my steps through trial and error. But now that time has passed, I can't remember a single thing I had been reflecting on or trying to prepare for, even if only in my head.
Instead, what I did while sitting there like that was pull a pack of ramen out of my backpack, sprinkle the seasoning over it, and stubbornly eat the whole thing, crunching every last bite. Feeling the spicy, salty sting of the seasoning on my lips and tongue, I ate it with great relish.
With lightning striking overhead and heavy rain pouring down, with no sign in the sky that it would clear up anytime soon, with water rising from the ground, and with my blister-covered feet, which had been stinging and going numb, now swelling up badly, I sat crouched in the middle of that ruin, with nowhere to lean, chewing on a block of dry ramen. Even thinking back on it now, I can't help but think it must have been one of the most memorable scenes of this trip.
How much time had passed? At some point, the rain stopped. Having finished the ramen, I sat there in that same position once again for quite a while, staring blankly into space, then turned on my phone and started revising a few pieces I had written over the past couple of days. So absorbed in it, I suddenly looked up, and there was the sunlight driving away the dark clouds, grinning as if it had been watching me all along. While glued to my phone, I kept hearing what sounded like rain, so I assumed it was still coming down, but it turned out to be the sound of the suddenly swollen stream rushing and crashing violently through a nearby ditch. So I stood back up. I roughly crumpled my raincoat, shoved it into my backpack, and hit the road again as lightly as I could.
And as I walked on, I found myself chewing over the message buried in the dreamlike sequence I had just passed through without even realizing it. Under that sudden, unannounced downpour, there wasn't much I could do. But as it turned out, doing nothing was actually completely fine. If there had been something I could do, I would have; if there had been something I had to take care of, I would have managed it somehow. But there wasn't, so I did nothing, and yet I wasn't struck by lightning, I didn't die, and I didn't lose anything major or get hurt.
As I walked, thinking endlessly about living with less tension, about simply swaying with the waves and enjoying their variations, a text arrived from the owner of the lodge where I had stayed a few days ago, asking how I was doing and wishing me well. Beyond her thoughtful gesture, the faces I had met along this path flickered through my mind. And they made me ache with nostalgia one moment, dragged me down to heavy, uncomfortable depths the next, and then before long, lifted me up into an indescribable euphoria. I knew this fluid circulation of energy between my inner and outer worlds was only possible because my body was relaxed and my consciousness remained as flexible as a wave. And so, for the rest of that afternoon, without forcing myself to summon energy and quietly wrapping myself in layers of silence, I greeted the setting sun.
3.
This story goes back to when I got my first job abroad after finishing undergrad and was living in Malaysia. At the time, I was preparing to study in the US and working practically nonstop from morning till night to save up the necessary funds. Since it was during the COVID-19 pandemic when the entire world had ground to a halt, my room and my desk served as my office. Not having to commute was certainly a plus in terms of maximum efficiency, but after hours of staring at a monitor inside that cramped space, my neck would grow stiff, my eyes would sting, and I would often end up feeling motion sick.
Whenever I reached my limit like that, my work speed and efficiency would plummet, so I would put aside whatever I was doing and decisively shut my laptop. Then I would change my clothes, tie my sneakers tight, and step outside without a second thought. Escaping the concrete buildings, I gave my whole body over to the blazing tropical sun, second to none in its intensity, and wandered to my heart's content through the lush greenery and blue sea lying just a stone's throw away. It was because soaking up the scorching heat of the midday sun was, as far as I knew, the single most effective way to recharge a thoroughly drained body and mind.
It was one of those days when I kept moving forward, diligently repeating this cycle of emptying and refilling myself. On days when time allowed, I would wander aimlessly for three or four hours, and that day too, I was returning utterly exhausted from a walk longer than usual under the peak midsummer heat. But on that day, the sea spoke to me.
The place where I lived was an island, so the ocean was always just a stone's throw away, and I walked along the coast almost every day. But I had never once entertained the thought of jumping in, simply because I had never learned how to swim.
But what could it have been? On that day, feeling a strange pull as if the vast horizon before me were drawing me in, my footsteps carried me across the sandy beach toward the blue waves. So almost unconsciously, I took off everything I was wearing, and feeling the burning touch of pebbles and sand beneath my feet, I waded straight into the swelling waves. As I walked across the scorching sand and stepped into the cool seawater, a pleasant thrill instantly spread through me, making my entire body shiver for a brief moment.
And so, as if under some kind of spell, I crawled into the waves without a thought or a trace of fear and let myself be engulfed by the foam. Lying on my back facing the blazing sun, I opened my arms with ease, as though they no longer belonged to me, and began calmly settling into a steady rhythm of breathing, keeping my consciousness firmly within me without trying to forcefully hold on to it. Then, as I held my breath for a moment, suddenly my body seemed to gently float up above the waves.
Even as I was bewildered by the strange phenomenon that had occurred in an instant, I did not want to let go of that weightless state I had never experienced before. So I kept my eyes closed and consciously maintained a slow, deep rhythm of breathing, and gradually my body seemed to merge with the brilliant shimmer of sunlight dancing on the water, gently swaying in bliss.
As time passed, I couldn't tell whether it was an eternity or merely a brief moment, but I must have fallen asleep. I suddenly woke up, splashing around as I pulled myself upright, and looked around, only to discover that I had drifted much farther than I had imagined and that the pile of clothes I had thrown off had become a tiny speck in the distance. And so, before I knew it, a little laugh escaped me.
On that day, to tell the truth, I felt a slight sense of pride. Having gone through that subtle first experience, where letting go of tension allowed my body to float softly for the very first time, and steadying my breath let me sway along with the rolling waves, I felt as though I had lived through a boy’s coming-of-age tale, crossing some threshold of life. And so, though it might seem somewhat out of nowhere, I was rather proud of myself.
Or perhaps that delightful intoxication was simply thanks to the energy of Mother Nature. After a walk drenched in solar energy, resting in the sea’s embrace to wash off the sweat, cool my body, nap, and dream, I would feel an indescribable, surging vitality welling up from deep within me. In any case, once restored like that, I would return to the battlefield of daily life and open my laptop once more. My years in Malaysia were, for the most part, a relentless cycle of such fierce exhaustion and wondrous replenishment.
And even in the midst of that, I would often separate my conscious mind from my subconscious, slipping away into quiet contemplation. That was about the mystery of relaxed surrender and deep breathing that lightens our bodies, allowing us to fly like butterflies and dance like waves, in other words, the strange, flowing principle that lifted me up unnoticed, carried me to distant horizons, and brought my dying self back to life a hundred, a thousand times over. 'How can I let go of forced effort even more and sink into a deeper, truer ease?' I still remember the question that consumed me back then.
© Text & Photos by Tao Jung