Like a Korean Virgin

Like a Korean Virgin

I am sitting at my MacBook listening to the Buddhist Television Network in the background with volume at #1 about to dive into an area that baffles. Being baffled is not a new or unexpected state for me, just one that well, baffles me.

As I have begun to form friendships and relationships here in Korea, an added benefit is direct sources of information that I would not be able to access otherwise. This reflection comes from one of those opportunities. My ‘informant’, who will remain nameless for obvious reasons, has no reason to lie or distort the truth. She is trying to help me understand her culture as best she can. I am grateful for her trust, respect and willingness to aid me in my continual process of learning. These days, the ‘textbook’ I am studying is about male-female relationships, sex, gender roles, norms and expectations. I say ‘these days’ to make myself feel like it will someday be something different.

Today I had the pleasure of penetrating the topic of virginity and sexual activity in Korea. I was flat out bowled over by what seemed obvious to my informant but oblivious to me. I appreciate her patience in this department since it took several restating of questions and answers to make certain I heard, understood and swallowed the information correctly. I also need to add that any conversation that includes sex, virginity and prostitution as its main focal points will both maintain and distract me continuously.

“So, I have been thinking about what you said yesterday about the whole women leaving the door open or not be allowed in a man’s room or apartment thing. It really has caught my attention since it is so far removed from American culture and norms. My question is; if men and women are not allowed to be in a room together alone before marriage then do they not have sex?”

“No, they don’t.”

“They’re virgins till marriage?”

“Yes. Most Koreans do not have sex before marriage.”

“Both men and women?”

“Yes. But more women are virgins than men.”

“How is that possible? Don’t the men have sex with women to not be virgins?”

“You know how in Korea all men have to serve in the military?” I nod my head. “Their senior and junior officers take them to get sex for pay. It is a regular part of what happens when boys go to the military. Many say they have not done it but we all know they have.”

“So prostitution is how most boys lose the virginity?”

“Yes. It is very normal in Korea. Most girls do not have sex before marriage. If they get married and the girl has already had sex with a man, they will get separated immediately.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Most men will not marry a women who is not a virgin.”

“Really?” For a guy who talks as much as I do, my vocabulary as an English teacher was becoming very limited to just one word; Really? “It is like Muslim culture?”

“Michael, it is Korean culture.” I am beginning to find out that the answer to anything that Koreans feel insecure or embarrassed about is; “It is Korean culture”.

I was about to say ‘Really?’ one more time but thought about it and tried some new words. “So you are telling me that women that are between 25-35 years old and not married are virgins?”

“Yes. It is very normal in Korea.”

“And boys that do not have sex with a prostitute in the military are also virgins till marriage?”

“Yes but many of them lie about it.”

“What percentage of high school students has sex before college?”

“High school students having sex?” She is now the one who is sounding like I was speaking a foreign language(OK, so I am, but you know what I mean!) . It was like she did not understand the question or it was a quantum physics equation.

“Yes. In America, it is very common for high school students to have sex before they graduate high school. In fact, most of them have more sexual partners in high school than I have had in my whole life.”

“Really?” See what a good English teacher I am? In a matter of minutes I have Koreans mimicking my phrases like natives.

“Yes. It is one of the reasons me and some of my friends that work with youth for a living do not want to work in high schools any more. The girls are too aggressive and we get accused of things that didn’t even happen.”

“Do you lose your jobs if that happens? If a teacher or counselor has sex with a high school girl, who gets fired?”

“The man! He loses his job, never can work with youth again and usually goes to jail for many years, sometimes even twenty-five years.”

“Really?”

“Yes. In 1997 I was accused of trying to have sex with a high school girl that was in a program I used to coordinate and I almost was arrested and prosecuted and I never even touched her beyond the way I would touch any boy or girl.”

“Really? So you can’t be a counselor any more in America?”

“I can. There was a lot of support for me and things were sort-of resolved without any legal or professional consequences but I resigned from my job because all the girls thought I was some kind of a sexual molester and I knew I could not do my job effectively any more. It was more about rumors and gossip than legal or professional. Girls were afraid to be alone with me after that.”

“Did you ever talk with her about it?”

“Yes. She said she did it because she didn’t want to be on the camping trip any more and thought by accusing me of trying to have sex with her, we would go home. Unfortunately for her, that did not happen and I almost lost my freedom and went to jail. I asked her about three years later when hired by the University of Cincinnati to conduct research on the effectiveness of the program. She said she didn’t even remember the situation. It meant that little to her.”

“You are lucky michael.”

“It didn’t feel that way at the time though. So this doesn't happen here in Korea?”

“No.”

“Out of 100 kids in high school, how many have had sex?”

“They don’t.”

“Less than ten percent”

“Yes, maybe.”

“And of adult women, how many do you think are still virgins before marriage? More then fifty percent?”

“Yes.”

“More than seventy percent?”

“I do not know exactly but more are virgins than not.”

“So a couple together for several years not married would never have been alone with a door closed or had sex?”

“Yes it is very normal in Korea.”

“Is this true for Japan and China too?” I asked this as a way to validate her statements and just in case what I had heard was completely untrue.

“No, just Korea.” She laughs for the first time. I am not sure if it was because she thought it was funny or she felt uncomfortable.

“I didn’t think so but figured I would ask.”

At this point, we both had to go. I was experiencing many different emotions including confusion, bewilderment, surprise, disappointment, erotic thoughts about having sex with a gorgeous thirty year old Korean virgin and a pinch of anger. I was bothered by all this- what it says about Korean culture, American culture, men, women, social norms and programming, and just plain old judgmental thoughts in my head.

It is now past midnight and this has taken up a large chunk of my mental process the rest of the day today. I was looking forward for the opportunity to write about this to get it out and have a chance to process it. I do not think it has achieved what I had hoped for. I still feel confused, disturbed and turned on by the fantasies in my head of these hot, adult Korean women in high heels, very short skirts that are virgins, real virgins. It is not necessarily a healthy set of emotions but the ones that I am experiencing at the moment. Tomorrow that may change, maybe not.

I can’t help but wonder who is the oppressed culture; Korean or American? At first glance through American lens, it appears that the Koreans, especially women are the oppressed people in these cultural, sexual norms. But I am flinching to say that I am sold on that to be true. The idea of not having any sexual pressure or expectations seems somehow very liberating and freeing for both men and women. If you already know you are not going to have sex with someone before marriage, it really clears so many things up right then and there. What freedom we would experience to be able to love and learn about each other with sex not even a concern now or the immediate future. Not even a discussion topic, nothing, nada, zilch. A complete non-factor in a relationship. Friendship and companion really are why you are together, not just what we say to cover up what we may be truly experiencing inside but playing the waiting game to appear evolved.

Who are the oppressed and who are the free? The virgins or the double-digit sex partners?

Either way, my Korean education continues. As a side note, I am starting to learn some basic Hangeul and it feels good!

Not with the Door Open Young Man

I was having a conversation with a female Korean friend over lunch the yesterday. We shared some brown rice that I over steamed, Kuk (light soup) and several Panchan (side dishes). I thought this an excellent opportunity to dig into some social questions I had in my ‘whenever I get a chance’ section of the brain waiting for a willing informant on Korean culture. I was ready to seize the moment like the shark I can be at times.

But first we had some business to discuss. I was meeting a mutual person few know for language exchange later on that evening and needed to work out the details since she does translating via phone for us sometimes. Like most folks learning a foreign language, my exchange partner does better in person with understanding me where she can utilize facial expressions, energy, hand signals and lip reading to aid her comprehension of words and phrases. My friend asked, “Where do you want to meet her tonight, that same coffee shop you went to before you went to Malaysia again? You both liked it there.” We did, but caffeine at night is not something that is supportive of positive circadian rhythms for folks like me. So, with ignorance and naiveté as my guides I asked what I thought to be a reasonable question, “What about my apartment? I do not have a good table for us to work on but the floor would be fine.”

“No michael, she cannot do that.”

Wanting more information and an explanation, Curious George became my next guide into ignorance, “Why not?” Simple, direct and to the point.

“Michael, in Korean culture, a woman cannot be in a man’s apartment or room unless they are married or there is another woman present.”

Stunned and a little embarrassed, I proceeded with clarification to make certain I didn’t get things lost in translation, “You mean that you or her can never come to my place for dinner, to watch TV or drink tea without the other one present?” I was hopeful there was a communication problem.

“No. The only way is if we leave the door completely open so that your neighbors can see in.”

“You are kidding right?” Still hopeful but starting to fade.

“No, I am not kidding Michael! Korean women cannot go to a man’s room or he cannot come into ours until we are married.”

“So your boyfriend has never been to your room?” Reaching now, knowing they have been best friends for seven years and a couple for the last year.

“No.” I gulp and try not to let the Kimchi in my mouth choke me. I succeeded at that endeavor but am struggling to swallow with the deeper one.

“Really?” I had nothing else.

“Michael. We can’t be seen with a man on the floor of his room or on the couch without another woman present unless we leave the door open. People will think something is happening. And it is also for the girl’s safety too. Bad things happen to girls when they are left alone with guys with the door shut.” She hesitates reflectively, “Do women do this in America?”

I am able to answer without laughing at her, Koreans or American values and boundaries or the lack of them. I silently reflect on how many different women’s couches and assorted other sleeping arrangements I have been offered and accepted through The CouchSurfing Project in the last year. “Yes, all the time. It is very common now for men and women to even share apartments together as friends. We hang out together at each other’s places all the time and it is not a big thing for a guy or girl to just crash at the friend’s home if they are too tired to go home or something. It is very normal in America. I know that some married women will not be alone with a man that is not their husband down South but I think that is even becoming rare these days.”

“Really?” Her face looked like she just saw a ghost, maybe two.

“Is this about rumors and gossip?”

“Yes, a lot if it is about rumors and gossip. If people say the wrong things about a girl she may not be able to get married.” My turn to wear the ‘I just saw a ghost or two look’.

We finished lunch with more digestible topics like children, English, Hangeul and Kimchi. But is stuck with me all day! At night, after our language exchange session at the coffee shop, I asked my language partner who does not command the English language as well at this point about this conversation. It took nearly five tries to communicate the content enough for her to understand. Her reply put this whole thing to bed for me, errr, maybe not a good choice of words. “No Michael. A woman cannot do that Michael. I do not know why but it is never allowed.”

“So you or her will never be able to come to my place across the street from both of you and eat dinner or watch a movie with me and talk? Ever?”

“No Michael. I am sorry but we cannot do that. It is Korean culture. I do not know why but it is this way Michael.”

I shared with her the part of my earlier discussion about safety and gossip. “Yes, that must be why Michael.”

“This makes me sad.” I stopped there.

I am still sad a day later. Partially since I cannot hang out with my friends individually and I for the most part, do not like crowds larger than two people. That is the self-centered sadness. The greater ache is that of social norms that prevent love, friendship and relationships based on gossip and perceived or potential safety hazards. Have we not gotten past some of this yet? How can a college professor still not be able to keep male friendships and maintain her social and professional status? AAAHHHHHHH!

I am sad, very sad. I was happier standing in my cultural bliss of ignorance less than thirty-six hours ago.

A Local Korean Hospital

It was a Saturday afternoon, the weather in Korea is definitely cooling but it was bright and sunny. I hated it. I felt miserable and wanted to go out and play. I have feet, a bike, mountains and sidewalks waiting for me but not today. I have the common cold. I had it last month as well, two colds in one year a record of sorts for me. I am in a new land and my body is reacting to changes. Last month I chose acupuncture and herbal medicine prepared by the herbalist at the Oriental Medical Center a few blocks away. It worked out great. This time I chose to go and get an injection at the local small hospital a block from the oriental medical clinic. I want to feel well quickly, I have some things I need to do, besides, and I wanted to have the experience.

I walk into a large lobby with about fifty people of all ages sitting on cushioned red benches with a big screen TV set mounted on the wall to the left with some sit com that folks seemed to enjoy. I see at the far end an information desk, I walk there slowly and cautiously not knowing the protocol and knowing that the language barrier is about to express itself again. I feel sick and do not feel up to it, too bad. I approach the desk and we exchange the simplest of English conversation including me pretending to cough, pointing and exaggerating my throat inflammation and showing my sinuses dripping. I have become a method actor here in Korea as matter of circumstance. They take my alien registration card; type some stuff in the computer and point for me to sit down while speaking in Korean as a matter of habit. I sit at the other end by the door; it feels like I can hide better there. Fifteen minutes later I get waved into a doctor’s office, he speaks minimal English and I repeat my Broadway performance of a sick man about to die from something awful. He smiles. He tells me after a brief examination, “You have the common cold.” I reply without reaction, “I know.”

“We give you injection ----- ---- ---- and three days. OK?”

“Yes, OK.” Assuming that he meant I would either get some medicine for three days or come back in three days. I do not know what he said in between injection and three days even after he repeated it twice. I respected him and his time, it is not his fault I do not speak Korean. A nurse shuffles me to another room and tells me, “Take your pants down for injection.” It then occurs to me the injection will be in my butt and not my arm. I have not had an injection in my butt in probably thirty-five years. I panic briefly but then pull them down behind a red and white striped curtain. Why the curtain if she is going to see my butt naked anyway? She re-enters the little space and rubs something wet and cold I assume to be alcohol on my butt and then rubs around for a second. Somewhere during that, she injected me. I did not feel it or even know she was dong it yet. Magic. I go out to pay and find it costs the equivalent of $7.00! I am shocked. I pay and leave not believing I went to a hospital, was diagnosed, injected and left in less than thirty minutes and it cost about $7.00. I picked up some groceries- oranges, tangerines, lemons, ginger root and other goodies to support my system and head home. Fruit cost more than the hospital visit. I feel better about an hour later.

It is now Tuesday night. I am still sick, maybe worse. It lasted shortly and I have a clogged up nose, coughing and yuckiness. I decide after dinner I will return and see if I was supposed to come back after three days or not. I walk in and nobody is in the whole waiting area. I approach the desk again as I did the other day but now there are different folks and need to do the Hollywood thing again. They are not amused. They bring another woman out, a nurse who speaks English. She is kind and helpful. After they figure out the intake nurse the other day decided to cut my last name in half, she brings me to the doctor’s office and joins us to help with language issues. She does great. We figure out that I was supposed to be taking medicine for the last three days and they gave me a prescription. I tell them, “I did not know if I was given a prescription or not and asked at the desk if I was done. And they said ‘Yes’, so I left. I am sorry. “No. We are sorry. They should have told you”, the doctor says with the nurse nodding her head yes. You can get another injection and we give you prescription for three days. If you still sick, please come back see me. OK?”

This time I understand totally. “Yes OK. Thank you very much.”

I am ushered to the other room and again pull my pants down to get the injection in my butt but she turns me around to do the other side. She says while smiling, “Now you have balance.” I laugh and before I know it she is done. “Pull up your pants and I take you to get prescription filled.”

“No I can do it myself. Thank you.”

“There is nobody here. I can help you.”

I let her lead me to the desk to pay before we leave. This time it is only $5.10. I think they gave me a discount because of confusion over prescription. She then leads me out the door to the little pharmacy around the corner. We enter and she hands the prescription to the young lady and says something to her. They bow. She turns back to me, “I work from 8:00-midnight if you ever need anything.”

“Thank you very much. Hopefully I will not see you again.” She says, “Good-bye” bows and leaves. I return the bow. My prescription was filled about two minutes later. The pharmacist said “Take after meals three times day.”

“OK. How much?” I make gesture of money exchanging hands. It was the equivalent of $3.10 for tablets and syrup for three days. I leave to go home smiling with my little pharmacy bag.

Things sure are different here. The presidential election has started in America. I already voted absentee.

Blindness

As the weather in South Korea starts to turn, so have the leaves. I have been looking forward to this more this year than past. I wanted to see what it looks like here in autumn. It has arrived. Red, burnt orange, orange, yellow, ochre, green and light green fill the streets of Cheonan. Today, being a sometimes-sunny sometimes-cloudy day, I wanted to get out on Tang San Mountain with camera and hiking shoes to enjoy the day. I did not leave my room till about 3:30, which was fine. It is getting dark near 6:00 so I would have plenty of time to explore and take pictures of the trees and whatever else caught my fancy. I got some great shots of the top of the white cement apartment buildings foreshadowing all the mountains in the background that surround the city of Cheonan. I had not seen this view before since it was the first time I made it to this trail. This one was more vigorous of an incline and had better unobstructed views of the city.

After about 45 minutes, I decided to take my first off the main path trail. I knew I had time before dark and know my way around this part of the city well enough that wherever I ended up, I would be OK. Along the way, I asked my Higher Self to be in charge and giude me where I needed to be, I trusted that and felt the support. I got lost and it took about a 1-½ hours to make it to the other main trail I typically hike on. No big deal.

I saw there was a set of steps with a sign marking to be only 0.2 km to the end. The steps seemed to go forever but I had been in the middle of the woods by myself in search of solitude long enough. I thought some time walking on the street would be nice. I started towards the top step and there was a woman by herself on the top step. She was wearing a green shirt with a lighter green shawl around her neck and shoulders. Her pants were black and she had semi-long black hair. Everybody in Korea has black hair. She was standing on the top stop in the exact middle twirling and rubbing her hands on a red leaf that looked similar but with less edges than an oak tree would produce. I paused for a second before entering, not wanting to disturb her intense experience with the leaf. She seemed so focused and single-minded. About a minute later, I decided to slowly walk around her without breaking her moment. I started down what looked like more than a hundred wood and dirt steps with a sharp incline slowly. I typically do not have good balance on steps for some reason. I focused my energy to my feet and my balance improved. As soon as I started walking, the woman in the green shirt started right behind me, like right behind me. I felt a little nervous, since I am not accustomed to folks walking right on my tail in the woods, especially down steps. I slowed to let her pass but she didn’t. I stopped, stood to the right side and motioned for her to pass gently; she stopped right behind me and wouldn’t look at me. I started again, walked about seven or eight steps and stopped again. She stopped directly behind me and I again motioned for her to pass. Again she did not, but this time she stomped her foot on the ground loudly. Still no eye contact or acknowledgement. I felt uncomfortable at this point. What social/cultural boundary have I broken? Is it not proper for women to pass man on steps? Is she afraid of walking in front of me? While finishing this third question, I approached a small bench inches off the trail on the right for folks to rest while trying to make it to the top due to the sharp incline. These trails have many older folks enjoying them and a bench is a good thing. For me, it was Blessing at this moment. I stopped, and sat on the bench’s left side with my backpack still on, since I planned on only staying there till the woman in the green sweater passed and created some distance for me. She stood right in front of me and stomped again. Her expression was blank but intense. I looked up and her eyes were closed. She looked like she was forcefully praying or something similar. I could feel her frustration and did not know what to do. I sat there still leaning back against my black pack. She started stomping more and did it several times, maybe eight or nine. She became more forceful and firm in her stomping each time. Her energy was strong and willful. She needed me to do something but could not tell me or was not willing to do so. I sat. A minute later she started walking. She walked slowly and I looked in another direction to not be rude. About ten steps later, she started stomping again on a large white rock at a curve in the step-path. She looked downright angry at this point. I was scared. I did not know what to do but sit. While she was stomping on the white rock, an elder couple with hats on passed her coming up the hill. Another couple, going down, passed her and then she started walking again. I felt a sigh of relief.

I waited about five minutes seated there on the bench to give her some space. I recalled she never let go of that red leaf in her right hand the whole time. I man and his son plopped down next to me, we exchanged pleasant glances. Then it hit me. It was not a social/cultural issue, the woman was blind. She could not see and would listen for the steps of those in front of her to find her way down the to the bottom safely. She was not standing at the top step to be with her red leaf; she needed a guide to make it down safely. She was not avoiding eye contact, she could not see me! My blindness was the problem, not hers. A sharp pain ran through my gut. What a jerk I am. I felt shame and embarrassment. I asked my Higher Self to send me where I needed to go and I was directed to lead her down Tang San Mountain safely. I failed and was somewhat rude along the way. I prayed for forgiveness, stared to cry on the bench next to the man and his son. They could not tell. I prayed for her. How could I do such a thing? What is wrong with me?

I got up to head down the trail. I walked down the steps faster than normal. I wanted to do something, anything but be alone with my shame. I am such a fool. When I made it to the bottom. There was a small park with a playground. A couple of moms and kids were playing. There was a woman sitting on a bench to the right. I looked and it was not her. I did a mental check to make sure I remembered what she was wearing correctly- green shirt with a light green shawl and black pants. No, she was not there. I walked towards the sidewalk I saw about fifty feet ahead. I looked both left and right, across the street and in every direction. She was nowhere to be found. I started in the direction that I thought would bring me home since I did not recognize the streets or area that was around me. About fifteen feet to my left and there she was. How did I not see her when I looked? She was stopped with the red leaf in her hand. She stood as if she was taking inventory of her situation, so was I. She paused then started walking in the direction towards me very slowly. She appeared cautious in her steps. As I passed her on her left, I softly said, “ I am sorry” knowing she would not understand the words but possibly the sentiment and energy behind the words. I sensed her focus was elsewhere and hearing some babble in another language by some guy was not high on her priority list at that moment. I started walking again; tears were again building up inside me. I am so blind. I know nothing. I think I do but I do not. Blindness, total blindness. I looked back and she was walking on the yellow grooved tiles that mark the center of Korean sidewalks for folks visually impaired. Her strain and focus was intense. I prayed for her. I prayed for me that I may learn how to see. I prayed and held back tears the entire hour or so it took me to get back my neighborhood. Along the way, a few different groups of young kids did the “Hello” routine with the foreigner. Typically I enjoy their enthusiasm and excitement. Today I was too full of shame but I played along because that it was the foreigner does with kids, play along. I stopped at ‘815’ grocery store to pick up some stuff for dinner. The bright lights and activity startled me. I brushed away my feelings and did what I needed to do. I left with my backpack stuffed with chicken, curry, eggplant and cucumbers. One block till home and still blind. “I was blind, but now I see” runs through my head with its soft, warm melody. Grace, that is what I need.

Mother Theresa was once asked, “Why you pray so much?”

“Because I need it. I don’t pray enough. I should pray more so I could be of greater service. I need it, that is why I pray.”

I need to pray more. I am blind and need to learn how to see.

Hope is in The Eyes

Eyes. Eyes are where I see hope and inspiration. Words often feel like a bridge but not the actual thing itself. Eyes tell the true story for me.

Lately I have had the opportunity to stare into the eyes of many young and beautiful children that can't communicate beyond "Hello" and "Goodbye" with me due to language barriers. It is such a powerful experience to share love, gratitude and connection through eye contact, bowing and holding hands or hugging. It really shreds away all the other stuff that often gets in the way.

Soft eyes that are not filled with propaganda and the illusion of needing more and better also have inspired me lately. The bulk of the youth here in South Korea are wholesome, even innocent in many ways. It is not as much that they are naive; it is more actual wholesome instincts that are cultivated through their families, communities, schools and culture as a whole. They would rather be hugged, smile and laugh than be cool, tough and walk around pouting to get their way. They genuinely want to be happy and share it with others. If I was a better author, I would be able to describe it more accurately. They are trusted and respected, and honor that respect with respecting others and trusting others.

An example would be that in a city of half million that I live in, all the florists in the neighborhood leave their most expensive plants out at night without locks and security. Kids are out till 10:00, 11:00 at night without supervision and nobody stares at them like they are bad and ready to do something wrong, and they don't. Young children below ten years old are out at night walking around, playing and running errands for their parents. Teenage girls walk home from their English, science and math academies after ten at night by themselves without fear and paranoia in their eyes. I have eaten in restaurants that the owner and only employee leave while you are eating to make a delivery without fear of being robbed or anything, they just smile on their way out and do their thing. You are respected regardless of who you are.

This all gives me hope. There is another way besides fear, power, sex and personal ambition. This gives me hope.

As a side note, not necessarily for his stance on issues or the fact that he is Black, but Obama gives me hope as well.

Peace and Hope,
michael

Bowing: An Energetic Transaction

On my first morning here in Korea, I entered a local “deli” to buy something quick to eat before starting work. I had arrived in my room around 1:00a.m. and did not go to sleep till nearly 3:30, with a wake up time of about 8:30a.m. The “deli” is not what I would typically call a deli but do not know the correct name for it. The woman prepares and sells different kinds of Kimchi and stews, hot and ready to go. I did not know what I was thinking when I walked in the door of her place, she bowed and said some kind of formal greeting that I know now as “Annyeong-haseyo”, good morning/afternoon/evening. But the bow is what caught me in my tracks. I had been given the information that many Koreans still bow before I left the states. I was a little excited but did not really grasp what bowing really is till that morning of little sleep after a twenty-four hour flight and a long ride from the airport to my new place in Cheonan. She bowed as casually as someone who has done so without thinking thousands of times. She did not know how strengthening and affirming that common gesture was for me. I knew I had reached my destination and was in the right place. My trip to Korea was where I supposed to be.

For the last two months I have reflected many times on what actually happens during the process of bowing that is so powerful. Is it the honoring of another person’s Self? The honoring of the Self? Is it the conscious decision that whatever we may be doing at that moment, the decision to be focused and present right now is all that matters, because there is a human being in front of me and that requires my complete attention. We are acknowledging each other, and I sense our ancestors and histories as well. Very few people do half-hearted bows here. They do half-hearted all kinds of other things, but bowing is different. Even entering the E-Mart or Lotte-Mart, the Korean equivalents of Wal-Mart and K-Mart, there is a person inside the door that bows to every single person that enters and leaves. I do not understand how, but they mean it and are genuine every time to every person, even to the foreigner who wears a backpack and has this stuff growing on his face all the time.

Where does the bow come from? I do not mean mean its history, although I will assume it is a Chinese tradition initially. I am referencing the actual energy of the bow itself. It is too powerful for each one of us regular people to muster up the kind of energetic exchange that a bow transmits hundreds of times a day. It is like a shot if Reiki, Qi Gong, Prayer and a loving hug from your best friend and grandmother all in one, without touching or saying a word- Taiqi in its purest form.

I get to share bows with all three of the women that serve lunch in the school cafeteria daily. All of the clerks, stockers and employees at the grocery store by my home almost daily. I enter the cell phone place on my way home just to share a bow with the guy who owns the shop where I purchased my cell phone, because his bows go right through me and fill my spine every time without exception. It is worth the two steps to his shop to receive his warm smile and bow. When walking the halls at school, most of the kids and all the teachers share a bow with me; it does not get old for them or me. Each time, the exchange is present and refreshing to me, the Real me. It is hard to be miserable, angry or resentful when bows are plentiful to ruin my negativity, like it or not. I have been aware of what a challenge it is to hold onto whatever self-centered or selfish thoughts and emotions I am clinging to while being immersed in bowing. Bowing is in my spiritual lineage and blood. I think if we were able to trace DNA to see who has the bowing gene, I would be profiled as such. It is who I am, it just took a long plane ride to find this out.

Two specific bows stand out to me at this moment. The first being my initial introduction and hello to a Reiki Teaching Master I met in Kyoto, Japan. He came up the steps of the subway station in his black monastic attire and bowed before saying hello. I felt him, the Reiki lineage and our Inner Connection at that moment. Our shared history finally had the opportunity to greet each other in physical form. The acknowledgment that this particular bow shared is still part of my dreams at night and Reiki sessions in the morning. In that bow, my connection to Mikao Usui, the man who rediscovered Reiki and the Reiki lineage was immediately strengthened and fortified. I am grateful for this bow and our meeting. I know we will share another bow someday.

My other favorite bow happens Monday through Friday. One of the women that shares office space with me and I, do a mini bow while she is sitting at her desk every day when I enter the space. Her smile and warmth tickle my core and remind me why I am a teacher and what being a teacher means. I find her attractive on many levels and since there are some language barriers, bowing is the time we connect and acknowledge each other. I wish bowing could be the method of getting to know women for me in all attractions; it is honest, pure, respectful and loving. The other stuff that trends to cloud my attractions to women dissipate in that brief second we share. I want to expand that statement to include all relations, male, female, friends or otherwise.

And I thought bowing was just for spiritual rituals and old folks.