My Buddhist Church Camp Experience
A Buddhist monk charges at me, swinging his arms in rapid windmills. I block his attacks, but each blow hurts. My forearms throb and turn bright red. The monk continues his assault and backs me against a wall. Then stops. And shakes my hand.
Well that’s a fancy way of putting it.
Basically I stayed at Golgulsa Temple in South Korea for three days and practiced the Zen martial art Sunmudo. This was a weekend trip I took when I lived in Seoul for a month. When researching excursions I learned that many Korean temples offer brief stays for "finding your true-self." That's nice, but I'd settle for a new experience.
Each temple has different programs. One had a talent show. No thanks. An open mic stacked with new age travelers is a hard pass. The Sunmudo practice made Golgulsa appealing because it meant less time becoming enlightened (boring). Plus I could fulfill my boyhood Bruce Wayne fantasy of learning martial arts from monks.
When I arrived at the temple they gave me a pale orange vest, brown parachute pants and a set of rules. No alcohol, smoking or meat. Treat all living creatures and nature with respect. Generally be a better person. Once I agreed to those they told me about the area.
The guest dormitories, dining hall and training center occupy the lower temple grounds. The rest stretches up a long hill to the foot of Mt. Hamwol. The chanting hall resides at the top, along with several shrines and a Buddha sculpture that was carved in the cliffside during the 6th century.
I climbed the hill to see the sculpture. On my way up a mosquito buzzed by my right ear. I obeyed the house rules and resisted killing it. The damn thing pestered me up the entire hill. Surely this was a test.
Afternoon view from the hilltop
I was surprised by how much life there was on the cliffside. Crickets, chipmunks, spiders, frogs and other creatures openly inhabited the same small ecosystem. Perhaps they knew the deal and assumed they were safe. Perhaps the Buddha sculpture has mystical magnetism. I'm kidding, but it sure seemed that way.
I found a praying mantis, the first I'd seen in the wild, and stared in amazement. I gathered myself and looked around. I noticed a nun meditating outside a shrine. She had witnessed my stupor and was smiling. I waved hello. She placed her hands in the prayer position and bowed.
Other guests included a few foreigners and a large group of Korean teenagers. We followed a strict schedule that began at 5 a.m., interspersed with much-needed naps.
Sunrise on the hilltop
They woke us by playing wonderfully haunting music on outdoor loudspeakers. Waking so early wasn't easy, but making it up the hill to the meditation hall on schedule required expedience. There wasn't time to process the exhaustion.
I quickly realized this was Buddhist church camp. We had meditation sessions instead of prayer services, ate in a communal dining hall, and listened to Dharma talks in place of Bible lessons.
None of the guests were downright Buddhists, but we participated knowing there wasn't any pressure to convert or abandon civilization.
The practice center. Field is used for archery practice and impromptu football games.
Sunmudo practice started with long stretching sessions. One monk could lie on his back, straddle his feet to the floor and tilt his torso up to look at us. Another camper dubbed him Gumby.
Us foreigners obediently followed instructions and the Korean teenagers couldn't care. We learned they were there for "re-education." They dragged through lessons and undermined anything they could.
This might have been funny if it was a bunch of cool kids sneering at international yuppies trying to discover themselves. But we were only there to enjoy ourselves and the teenagers were annoying in that A.J. Soprano way: Not cool, just a pain in the ass.
The monks ignored the teenagers as they continued to test their boundaries. I became increasingly frustrated and resisted yelling at them, even after I caught one boy spitting on the floor where we'd walk barefoot.
"Why do you suck so much?" I asked in exasperation. He didn't speak English, but his eyes flashed with embarrassment and I tallied a tiny victory.
During meditations I focused on forming strong memories. Taking in the beautiful temple, the smell of burning incense, the morning light passing through the smoke. The fact that I was there. Being grateful for my circumstances. Knowing this peaceful time would evaporate and grow distant.
My biggest realization didn't occur during meditation. It happened as I was preparing for bed on the last night. Mainly, there's no way I could do this longterm.
I admire the monks and nuns for their choices and dedication, but I would go insane.
Rigorous structure makes me anxious. I need to kill pesky mosquitos and curse at little punks. While I enjoyed the vegan meals I eagerly anticipated Korean barbecue awaiting in Seoul. I'm comfortable with this. It's my true self.
