Empty Palace 빈 궁

                                                        
         (written in 2006)

“Calling His Name,” written by Seong Youm, the Korean Ambassador to the Holy See, came out recently. The collection of short essays reveals the author's thoughts, meditations, vision, and life experiences.

 Seong sees everything he has received as a gift. His parents died young, but many warmhearted people helped him and his brothers prepare for the future. Of course, there have been ups and downs.

 He was educated to be a priest but dropped out of the seminary to marry a woman who fell in love with him at first sight. They believe in different religions, but they respect each other. Love solves every problem. Seong is not a priest now, but he is doing good work not only for the church but for the country.

 Everything is a gift to share with joy, generosity, and gratitude. Sometimes, reality can be hard to accept. It can demand endurance and sacrifice, but difficulties can bring profound wisdom and awakening. If we appreciate the deep meaning underlying each moment, everything can bring enlightenment, even painful things.

 I was deeply touched by Seong's life story and insight while reading "Calling His Name." It was a special experience to help edit the book, and I did my best.

 I had to remove my womb before Christmas. I cried for a while and felt purified little by little. Tears came out naturally as if they were a gesture of repentance.

 "I feel like being a new person! Be happy with me." That was how I felt before the operation. It was a statement of new beginnings.

 Then, my community of sisters replied to my words. A sister cheered me up by saying, “Not anybody can say that." Another sister told me, "I'll watch over you."

 I felt I was changing inwardly. The doctors put me under anesthesia at 8 a.m., and it was about 5 p.m. when I woke. I had an irregular pulse. My belly hurt deeply, but I was glad to be alive. I felt pain but was grateful for new life through suffering. Everything was new, and I was happy to appreciate the presence of those who are near me. I wrote this poem:

 

An Empty Palace

 

For you,

only for you,

I have emptied the womb of life in spite of many conflicts.

 

However, not you

but another guest came

in that intimate place where nobody could enter.

 

That was a lump

twisted and twisted in many folds,

dangling tightly to the string of attachment.

 

Without knowing it,

it has grown freely to the fullest

while sucking all kinds of nourishment.

 

Whenever I shed tears

because of unavoidable desire,

that lump was increased like a snowball.

 

In the end,

when the identity of the lump was revealed,

a death sentence was given to take it all out.

 

While entrusting the naked body without any power,

having the belly cut, deepened by desire and bound by attachment

was such a pain that permeated every corner of the flesh.

 

There is now neither the womb

nor the lump.

The inner space is only empty.

 

In the very place

where I can’t hold anything in my hand,

You are coming.

 

You have hung about outside the door

for a long time

and wanted me to be a new person.

 

At the very moment

when I can't do anything by myself,

You come to me.

 

Opening your arms,

You raise me up.

 

In the very palace where I was imprisoned by the fence of "being different from each other"

 and where I was immersed in the entrusted works,

so many sisters come and go.

 

I have become really a new person.

Love that doesn't build a house in any place

has come into being.

 

Two weeks have passed away since the operation. I hardly rested before, but now I'm learning to rest and enjoy each moment. I find myself still wearing the old person, but my mind and vision are being refreshed little by little. I hope the new year will let my dream to be a new person come true.

 The Korea Times/ Thoughts of the Times/ Dec. 30-31, 2006