Blindness – A Spiritual Teaching in Seeing

As the weather in South Korea starts to turn, so do the leaves. I have looked forward to this more this year than in the past. I wanted to see what autumn looks like in South Korea. 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 my 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 around 6:00 these days, 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; it was the first time I made it to this trail. This trail was more vigorous and inclined, with better-unobstructed views of the city.

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

I saw there was a set of steps with a sign marking 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 for a long time. I thought some time walking on the street might be nice. I started towards the top step; a woman was standing by herself. 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 step in the middle of the entrance, twirling and rubbing her hands on a red leaf that looked like an oak tree would produce. I paused for a second before entering, not wanting to disturb her intense experience with the leaf. She seemed focused and single-minded.

About a minute later, I decided to slowly walk around her without interrupting her moment. I slowly started down what looked like more than a hundred steps of wood and dirt with a sharp incline. 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 was not accustomed to folks walking right on my tail, especially down the 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, walking about seven or eight steps, stopping again. She stopped directly behind me, and I 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 acknowledgment. I was feeling uncomfortable by this point. I asked myself questions to understand what was happening.

What social/cultural boundary have I broken? Is it not proper for women to pass men on steps? Is she afraid of walking in front of me? While finishing this third question, I approached a small bench about a foot off the steps on the right for folks resting on their way to the top from the sharp incline. Many older folks enjoy these trails, and benches are good things. 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, creating some physical and spiritual distance. She stood right in front of me and stomped again. Her expression was blank but intense. I looked up and saw that her eyes were closed. She looked like she was praying forcefully.

I could feel her frustration and did not know what to do. I sat leaning against my backpack. She started stomping more, maybe eight or nine times. 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 not willing to do so. I sat. A minute later, she started walking. She walked slowly, and I looked in another direction so as not to 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 elderly couple wearing hats 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 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. A man and his son sat 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 to the footsteps of those in front of her to find her way down. She was not standing at the top step to be with her red leaf; she needed a guide to be safe. The woman was not avoiding eye contact; she could not see me! My “blindness” was the obstacle, not hers. I felt a sharp pain in 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 rude along the way. I prayed for forgiveness, starting 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 stood 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. A woman was 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 – a green shirt with a light green shawl and black pants. No, she was not there. I walked towards the sidewalk ahead. I looked both left and right 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 surrounding me. Fifteen feet to my left, and there she was. How did I not see her when I looked? She was standing with the red leaf in her hand. She stood as if she was taking inventory of her situation, as was I. She paused and then started walking slowly in the direction of me. 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. I started walking again; tears were again building 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 who are visually impaired. Her strain and focus were intense. I prayed for her. I prayed for myself to learn to see.

I prayed, holding back tears the entire hour it took me to get back to 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 played along because that it what the foreigner does with kids in Korea, play along. I stopped at “815 Grocery Store” to pick up food 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.” the lyrics ran through my head with their soft, warm melody. Grace, that is what I need.

Mother Theresa –  Blindness – A Spiritual Teaching in Seeing

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

“Because I need it. I don’t pray enough. I should pray more so I can 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.

(09/08 Cheonan, South Korea)

What experiences do you have with Blindness – A Spiritual Teaching in Seeing?

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