Baekryon temple

As I set off from Gongdok village on a bright morning in July, I utter expressions of nervousness to my spouse before taking a parting embrace. The anxiety arises due to language skills, cultural differences, modest knowledge of protocol and perhaps what fear of what I might discover on this simple journey. I'm going to a Korean Buddhist temple, named Baekryeon-sa nestled within Dogyu Mountain National Park.

The drive east from Jeonju is brilliant. Despite the haze , I feel immersed in the verdant carpeted slopes which swell and settle as I cruise along the elevated express toll way, sometimes piercing the mountain masses by the frequent tunnels. My guide and chaperone is in front of me. I elected to bring my own vehicle to ease the return trip, and semi- consciously facilitating the comfort of an easy escape. The temple is located 6 km from the park gate , main parking area ,and the tourist ghetto and its amenities. The gently sloping roadway is partly paved making it an attractive cycle route and easy walking track. Closer to the temple the drive narrows to a car width cement road hanging on to the river bank next a vigorous rush of seasonal water.

The rainy season arrived over a week ago and water is everywhere: trickles and puddles, mist and streams. The air is heavy and humid and the smell of vegetative growth is abundant. Sunlight eaters eek out existence, emerging from every pavement crack, reaching for the sky. Vines crawl across roads and spiral up every pole, fence or tree trunk.

As I drive , I can already anticipate the peaceful traquility. We cruise along below the speed limit and I struggle to deny and phase out my daily temptations: keep the radio off; make cancellation calls; no Internet; no Tour de France results. I let go of my worldly worries, the work projects, money matters ...

I'm going in search of peace, to reclaim some spiritual ground- not in any religious sense- and to look for answers to pressing personal questions. Or rather, let them arise. My mind is active and I look forward to narrowing down the range of thoughts and concerns.

Despite personally being mostly anti-religious, my interest and comfort with Buddhism comes from one of its chief practices: meditation. Sometimes known as the Science of the Mind or The Middle Way, Buddhism is a tolerant and accepting faith. My stay requires me to attend twice daily ceremonies and at least on group meal, but otherwise, my unofficial TempleStay is totally unorganized and allows me total freedom.

I've spent three two- week retreats at temples in Asia and frequented another English -friendly temple during my first two years in Korea. These experiences strengthened my meditative foundation and rekindled practice. Will I be able to retrieve this knowledge and preserve it afterwards? As I approach 40 years and undeniable middle age, I find myself on the verge of yet another major transition but also out of balance and unable to answer and nagging questions or make much needed decisions.

Once at the quiet temple, I try to be mindful and respectful of habits. I put on socks, vaguely reminiscing some faux- pas regarding bare feet. The others wear socks so it won't hurt to put on a pair. The others comprise of two women, and there are apparently two monks but one is away this week. So besides the tourist hikers passing through, there are four of us on the temple grounds.

My host is adorable and elegant. The sister-in-law of one of our shop patron/ friends, she volunteers her time here, returning to the city for family duties and other essential affairs. She is patient with me, repeating when necessary and understands my barely distinguishable Korean phrases. I understand maybe half of the words in her communication which is plenty enough. Thankfully she is articulate, so her messages are understood and acknowledged. So far, so good.

We chat, I'm explained the schedule and expectations- which are so few. She knows I'm trying to have a cleansing mini fast this week, so she knows I only want to come for one meal. Knowing some of my poor habits, she tells me, " There are no snacks here but we are making some fresh rice cake" of which I get to find outside my door later.

When I listen closely and study idiomatic expressions , I get to feel the poetry and rhetoric of Korean language.

The roar of waterfall is a constant. Bird calls can be overheard. Besides these things nothing is happening. Total tranquility.

After remarking this, my hostess says in plain Korean, " water song, bird song". And it's much more appropriate than the English water fall or bird call which imply noise. Upon this reflection, I realize that everything can be perceived differently and that's part of why I'm here: to remember how to let go of pre-conceived perceptions and interpret events in positive or, nominally, neutral ways.

It's the height of summer now and entomological wonders abound around my head and all over; I have to remember not to torture or murder any of them lest they be the temple founding monk's latest incarnation.

THe temple was founded in the late 7th century during the Shilla dynasty, the flowering age of Korean Buddhism. Stuppas adorn the site and surroundings,with a massive altar some 50m up the mountain from the temple site. There are 11 buildings now all constructed in the 1960s since the original structures were razed during the war. Some park signs and toilets exist but the amount of development doesn't quite match the amount of human traffic.

After a light lunch with delicious bean paste, greens and wild mountain plants, I summon up the courage to take an exploratory walk, or face/ embrace the meditation I came for.

From the temple, it's an arduous 90 minute trek up to the summit of Mount Deogyou. Listed at 2.5 km of distance the elevation gain is 700m from the temple which rests at a cool 900m above sea level. There are many rugged staircases to minimize the impact from the countless visitors. On the way up , I am mostly alone, only greeting a few fit hikers. I pause not out of poor fitness but to take in the trees and birds.

On the summit, I take in the spectacular view and the surrounding peaks, taking inventory and setting goals as mountaineers always do. I can see the other peaks of this mountain, including the one I came to on my first week in Korea. I can see the top of the gondola lift from the ski resort, only half a kilometer away. This explains the elderly nearby taking many photos. I took the lift in the winter but saw nothing from the white conditions on that day.

Back at the temple with aching knees, the suns rays move higher up the opposing slopes as the shadows grow deeper. Besides ubiquitous Korean power lines, nothing else disturbs the perfect view of nature. I have the blissful exhaustion of fatigue from the cardio exercise. Wagtails bob around the steam and doves and crows make their last rounds of the fading day.

The caretaker ladies announce to me that they're off and returning. But further details are not necessary. I assured them that I am ultimately content and require nothing. Suddenly I am alone. THe monk is no doubt in his quarters some 100m away. I haven't been this isolated in ages. It's difficult to be isolated in Asia. Some occasional camps have been far removed but I haven't bee out solo for eons. It has been seven years since I was this isolated, on the slopes on New Zealand's Mount Taranaki during winter at a similar altitude.

A temple to myself.

Clay roof tiles and timber posts seep into my consciousness as I prepare for an early evening. I set my own alarm and mentally prepare myself for the 330 am rise for the 4 o'clock ceremony. The sunrise and dawn will make it all worthwhile, granting that the rain continues to hold off. I do the math and calculate an early sleep time. Will I be able to make it through the morrow without a nap?

The morning comes and I'm awake and alert for the ceremony to which no one attended but me and the presiding monk. I see from the absence of other cars that they didn't return for the evening. I know when to bow by the falling clack to the Mok-tak, a wooden bell. I don't know what to , or if I should chant or say anything . The monk rings the bell inside the main hall, a 1m bronze casting. Its reverberations fill the room and vibrate the souls which surround it. I drift in and out of meditative/ sleep/trance state for almost two hours. This monk is very serious and determined, never had I witnessed that length of ritual without any special cause.

The dawn brings clouds and after futile resistance I end up napping by 8am. It is short-lived as dreams of flooding waters outside my room rouse me into avoiding the stressful sleep. The second caretaker had returned and I lunch with her. I assure her that I'm not hungry and that I'm perfectly content. Besides standard dining remarks and compliments, not much more is said for the rest of the day. I drift in and out of worldly concerns and am absorbed by the power and beauty of the forest and mountain serenity.

The ancient temple continues to be all mine. Contact is minimal. I wander around and meditate and absorb the isolation of the 1400 yr old site. I opt to take the river/ creek trail towards a cave as another trip to the peak would be both wet and too much for my knees. Yesterday's strain and the increasing amount of sitting cross- legged is taking its toll.

The walk is outstanding. Never have I seen such mature, rugged virgin forest in Korea. Fir, spruce, birch and other hardwood trunks are some awesome two feet or more at their bases. Again, I take my time on this rainforest walk, inventorying species, observing relationships, growth patterns.

I cover the 2.5 km trek in a slow 90 minutes. I come to a wild hog and her young at right angles. The300 pound sow is visibly upset and stands head on to me as the tiny tan and furry piglets scurry out and away from me , some 20 ft away. I challenge her vocally, asserting my ground. Both in shock and surprise , I remember to practice mindful speech by omitting cuss words, speaking positively and and complimenting her, while being loud. I announce my further presence at other narrowing parts of the trail. The signs of the pigs' presence are ongoing. Moments later I see the hind of a tiny water deer jolt into the bush as I turn around. Whom else is out there? I often feel spirits are present when walking in ancient populated places.

At the cave , I discover its namesake lived there in the 16th century. Searching for enlightenment in sense restricting caves is a popular Asian tradition. I imagine what kind of existence was possible. There , at 1300m there is little to forage for the vegetarian monk. Much time would have to be spent on collecting foodstuffs as daily alms being brought 90' from the temple seems unlikely. On the return walk , I notice rows of retaining stones forming small terraces indicating past cultivation.

The following day passes in a similar fashion, but with more rain. At lunch, my host returns with one son teenage son and a couple other folks. We are seven for lunch and again it is amazing. Temple food is generally always vegetarian, highly nutritious and wholesome. They stress the use of organics and medicinal foods, and traditional methods and care is observed for the preparation. Both the preparation and consumption are meditative rituals which remind us of the curative powers of food, the efforts required to collect it, and they great fortune we have in benefiting from it.

In the end, I opt to return to the city a bit sooner than I hoped. I achieved what I came for, and made solid headway into making decisions and conclusions. I feel relaxed and purified. I realize that the benefits of a longer stay of only one night are negligible and I should press forward with my new resolutions. Also, I feel somewhat jet-lagged from the early mornings and use that as an excuse. During a late afternoon tea, we have a nice talk and vow to return. I summoed up a fair amount of Korean speech from the depths of my mind and supplemented it with English. My dear host surprised me with repeating phrases and complete sentences of English of her own. She was having me on all these months. Many Koreans know much more English than they let on.

Only a three day escape, but it made a world of difference. Now, as always, the key is what am I going to do with it?