A Moment of Zen

For the first few hours of Zen sitting I try, with all my earnest intent, to put into practice what we were taught by our master. Struggling to sit with my back as erect as possible with my hands in the mudra posture and legs in the half-lotus, I'm trying to empty my mind of thoughts and focus on my breathing through a practice of spiritual insight. According to our teacher, when we take away all of our thinking, our true self appears. So I close my eyelids tightly and take a deep breath, thinking “what am I?”, and breath out, “I don’t know.”

My friend Laura and I are meditating in the Zen Room of a Korean Buddhist Temple called Musangsa. Elevated in the foothills of a bounteous national park, Musangsa has been carefully placed in the claw of Mt. Gyeryongsan and embodies the quintessence of gi (?), often known in the West by its Chinese pronunciation qi, a spiritual energy that is most abundant in this neck of the woods—the main inspiration for the construction of the temple in 2000. The V-shaped mountain complements the temple location, and a strong, airy sense of mysticism can be felt here.

Wandering the Musangsa grounds, we find ourselves surrounded by a lush landscape of greenery that stretches on for miles. We feel like we have been transported into a spiritual dimension heightened by the serenity of the landscape; a breathtaking view from the second floor of the main temple.

At Musangsa, silence is serenity. Fitted in a traditional grey outfit, I begin my retreat at 4am with a routine of bowing, morning chanting and sitting that will prepare me for a delicious breakfast at 6am. Ten minutes before the meditation session begins, the moktak (wooden fish) is hit to signal everybody to get ready, and the sitting period begins when the jukbi (split bamboo clapper) is hit three times.

For me, the meditation is difficult because of the lengthy sitting period. However, my friend Laura, who is something of a dharma disciple, sits comfortably with pitch-perfect posture and appears as though she has escaped into an enlightened world of monastic bliss. Some people effortlessly glide through their 108 bows, and others, like myself, crumble under the sheer exhaustion. It's no picnic—like most things worth attaining, achieving spiritual enlightenment takes challenging practice.

Slouched over my cocoa coloured pillow examining the dirt under my fingernails, my mind drifts to counting the Sino-Korean numbers 1-10 repeatedly until they flow freely; 6, 7 and 8 being the most difficult continuation to smooth over. I keep looking behind me at the clock, than at the others, wanting nothing more than to give up, get up, and walk out the temple door to continue my life of undisciplined selfishness. But I stay, focus and finish what I had came here to do because I want my stay here to serve as an exemplary start to a lifelong spiritual journey.