Rest before the Rush

Christine and Dah Hae in Myeondong

In times of transition, times such as now, I'm not sure what to do. I want to spend time with people who are important to me here because it's uncertain if/when our paths will cross again. At the same time, there is a need to foster relationships back home in preparation for my old "new life." My coping mechanism is this; laugh with friends for as long as possible, then retreat to my couch for some TV. Unfortunately, this is not conducive to packing or grading. Surely those things will find their way in the schedule in the next few weeks. Needless to say, I'm in the midst of a whirlwind of exams, events, and emotions.

Retreating to my TV has recently involved overindulging in a series called "Men in Trees" about Marin, a New York writer who finds herself in a small town (full of men) in Alaska. At first she is overwhelmed by the simplicity of life in a village, but then she discovers she can breathe better, think better, and write better. It is unexpectedly inspiring to watch Marin's journey to find herself and what is most important. Cheesy, I know. I LOVE it.

Annette walking in the mountains

Maybe it's the lack of quality English television in Korea that pulls me in to Marin's story. But maybe, just maybe, it's because my hope for returning home to the beautiful Midwest will mean simplicity, and simplicity might bring clarity. When you've been somewhere long enough, normal daily events slowly complicate things. The yellow dust is no longer an exotic phenomenon but rather a real annoyance that poisons the lungs and causes you to sputter, cough, and stumble around with watery, itchy eyes. Simply said, nothing is clear in a yellow dust storm.

Lots of people clean and organize their life's spaces for clarity. Maybe I'm in need of a spring cleaning of countries. I think I will put this one away for a bit; maybe for good, maybe for another season, and pull out my old one. It may be rusty and a little unfamiliar for awhile, but we'll get used to each other again. That is when we see most clearly; when our eyes fall upon what once was familiar, but with new, recovering-from-the-dust lenses.

Enjoying a springy, smoggy day in Seoul