When a Pine Needle Drops Off

Walking uphill is challenging, but perhaps the feeling of lungs spitting out what feels toxic and devouring fresh air is one of the reasons why I’m back to Namsan (Mt.Nam) on a daily basis. Shortly after coming back to our Tent of Light, David and I noticed changes around our beloved neighborhood – Itaewon. Some restaurants that we wanted to try are gone and trendy eateries replaced the spot. To fit the vibe of the street, chefs decided to avoid Korean food and to serve either western or Japanese style. A fluffy Pomeranian who greeted me every time I stopped for a take-out latte has now crossed the rainbow bridge, and she will wait for her barista dad to come to her one day. Her name was Kong, “bean” in English, and I’ve really felt her absence.

<Kong the coffee pup>

When death is near us, often new life rises to counterbalance. Seeing my brother holding his daughter still confuses me, but it makes perfect sense. With love for the newborn child in his eyes, you can almost see honeyed tears reflected on his eyes at any given moment. Seven months without us, Seoul continually has been taking in life and breathing out new spirit.

Ever since David and I arrived, Korea has consistently filled her celestial tent with an icy breeze yet, surprisingly, a summer blue sky. Last Thursday, I took my mom on a Namsan walk with me. We encountered frozen spring water, pine trees painting the sky green, a grey rock wall half a millennium old–familiar beautiful things that I enjoyed on previous hikes. Something unusual occurred on the way down though. Maybe it was a very natural thing. From a distance, an old man’s singing captured our slow walk. It was more like talking than singing. The melody traveled to me like a winter breeze blowing. So light like a coal tit’s feather floating. I’ve heard my parents singing the same song when I was young. A couple days after the hike, I was humming the song, and when I decided to sing it aloud, I found myself reciting the entire lyrics. This song must have left such an impact (just like VBS songs I can recall even now) that a jukebox in my heart decided to leave its lyrics engraved.

“Though standing in the windy wilderness, I don’t feel lonely. But when a pine needle drops off, teardrop follows after. With each of our hearts burning, sunlight arises again.”

The song was released back in 1989. What a year that was. The Berlin Wall was torn down. A young man stood in front of tank forces in Tiananmen Square, China. The end of the Cold War was more tangible than ever. The spirit of democracy surged around the world. In the previous year, the 1988 Seoul Olympics was successfully held, and South Korea was celebrating its upcoming era of being a “developed country.” The Seoul Olympics quickly became a symbol of South Korea’s recovery from the war and sovereignty.

In 1989 Seoul, there was a family with four daughters and one son living in a small basement, and one day, the eldest daughter, being 12 at the time, decided to kill herself and her sisters. She thought her very being was financially burdening her parents in their extreme poverty, so she decided to eliminate the burden of herself and her sisters. Four sisters were poisoned, the four year old sister died, and the others were badly injured but survived. The singer of the song, I heard on Namsan last week, received word of this tragedy from a newspaper and wrote the song in a couple of minutes.

When I came upon the story behind the song, two things grabbed my attention and broke my heart. Why did the eldest consider only ‘girls’ among her siblings as a burden? And how did this family of seven, including parents, end up living in this small basement outskirt of Seoul? Considering how favoritism over sons was a social norm when I was born, I assume the parents tried and tried to bear children until they conceived a son. Four daughters were born first, and finally a son was given. Growing up as the eldest daughter of this family, had she carried shame of being a girl? She didn’t poison her only brother knowing how valuable and worthy he was considered. She only did harm to her sisters and herself. This story overlaps with my mom’s story and her journey of being the eldest daughter trying to prove her worth. How many times was my mom told “only if you were born as a son…” in her life? One day this nameless girl saw a pine needle drop off, and that denied reason for her being. She persevered in the wilderness for twelve years, but something so small that day shook her and pushed her to end her life.

The other thing is ‘how did this family of seven end up living in this tiny basement?’. I want to continue that in the next newsletter. The keywords of this story are ‘gentrification,’ ‘eviction’ and ‘home.’ The old man’s distant singing has led me through a full circle of being broken over what Itaewon has been going through and what had happened in Seoul forty years ago.

One of the famous proverbs in Korea says “a rock thrown inadvertently kills a frog in a pond.” Originally from Aesop’s Fables of the sixth century B.C., these words show how sometimes it is the small things or often unnoticed forces from outside that hurt us. Push us to the corner where light isn’t shone. Kill something in us. Or make us simply very sad all of a sudden.

Friends, if you saw a pine needle drop today and felt a deep sensation of feeling–sadness, anger, sorrow, emptiness, confusion–whatever that was…me too! And if you are playing a part in this bird feeding group that I so trust, I’m sure you–indeed all of us–have experienced that feeling. Know that my heart burns for you and my tears drop for you. And I think of your face when I’m at the same place. Each of your burning hearts makes room for sunlight to arise. May our burning hearts make warm lights for each other. May our hearts be allowed to feel the deep sensation, to name it, to turn it into part of our being. May the Light arise in us slowly.

<사랑으로 by Sunflower>

Would you lovingly pray for Songbird in these ways?

1. I will go back to the States on March 11th. I would like your prayer over our Tent of Light as we discern the renting situation.

2. I feel a distance from the Spirit. I desire to connect to myself and the Spirit.
3. In March, our beloved community -Baraka Little Library- will have to relocate after a decade in their current space. Please pray for a smooth transition and for families who have yet to find homes.

Nesting Together #9

Have you encountered an old song that suddenly took you on a new meaning? I would love to hear the title and the specific lyric that truly resonated with you.

Visiting neighboring nests

Other birds' answers to "DWhat kind of habitat would you describe as your faith environment? And what creature is God?"

I’m gonna continue with your theme of whale bc I recently saw a whale breaching in the ocean south of Maui and felt the fear/awe of Creator in me. I feel like my faith is a bay since it’s limited, but I also feel aware that God frequently swims beyond the limits of my bay.

My faith environment lately has been like the classical Greek underworld…shadowy, full of shades I am not comfortable with, and separate from light and greenery. A place that is part of me that I must travel through, but a difficult place. But I would say God is like Beatrice leading Dante through it with eyes of love and wisdom. (She doesn’t show up in the Divine Comedy until Paradise, but since this is my creative response, I can have God be Beatrice here and now in this underworld!

Birdwatcher, birdlover...and birdfeeder!

If you want to support my art journey financially, I want to thank you! Your seed will be a source for me to explore the world of creation and encourage me to make beautiful things.