Winter Tree

Kyoto is a beloved city by people all around the world.

Westerners especially are mesmerized by its exotic charms that cannot be found in the West.

Probably because all the people of Baekje had moved to Asuka in Kyoto after the collapse of their kingdom, every time I visit Kyoto, I sense a long history and the spirit of my own people and I feel as if I am walking through the time of one thousand years.

Among others, Kyoto’s cherry blossoms in spring and its autumn foliage are great beauties you cannot see anywhere else. Combined with the extremely beautiful art of lightening, the night view of Kyoto is even more extraordinary. Because of the short duration, though, it is not easy to be there at the right time.

Although, once I get back I usually forget about them, at those moments when I look upon them, I think that I would feel sorry for the flowers and the leaves and feel more sorry for people, if they would not look at those spring flowers and star-like autumn leaves located only a one hour flight away.

Kyoto’s autumn foliage remains longer than in Korea, till the middle of December, but I felt sorry to miss its beauty while I was there as my meeting was scheduled at the end of the year.

As the red leaves that are like little dreams were gone, I was wondering what I should do to spend the rest of my time and the cherry tree in the Emperor’s castle, Goshyo, came to my mind. Last spring, it was drooping down to the ground and dancing buoyantly with countless blossoms in front of me.

Then I missed a chance to view cherry blossoms as well. I went for a walk in Gosyho right in front of my hotel and saw the tremendous cluster of cherry blossoms deep inside the castle on which I wrote an essay that charmed many readers into wishing to visit Kyoto. When I was looking back briefly feeling sorry to leave, I was surprised to see the almost blown-up trunk of the tree far beyond the flowers. I went out to see the tree in Kyoto colored in gray for it was still the beginning of winter even in the warm weather of about 13 degrees Celsius.

Goshyo was a palace of the Emperor of Japan in Kyoto, which used to be the former capital of the country for one thousand years before Tokyo became the new capital. It seems bigger than Gyeongbokgung (Palace), which I pass by every day. Since the night viewing season of autumn leaves was over

there was hardly anybody around. After walking across the large, quiet yard and passing by a good number of big pine trees, I walked further in to find a few trees with red leaves on tiny brown branches just like some beautiful presents. ‘It must be somewhere around here,’ I thought looking around the similar-looking and characterless branches of various cherry trees until I finally found the tree I met last spring.

Probably nobody would pay a visit to this tree when it is not blooming. But I wanted to see its naked figure not hidden under the fancy pink color.

The whole trunk was ripped and cracked apart. I could not imagine any tree more ugly than this one. I shed tears, though, imagining the beautiful flower petals full of life blooming next spring by the constant effort of the tree pumping up water and drawing in color with no break. It is not something one can imagine at all by observing its looks or by pressing one’s ear on it. But wouldn’t it be a splendid present of joy for us that we finally face after our severe endurance and patient waiting during the long winter?

Picturing the shiny presentation of its new piece of art in the new season by means of sacrifice and devotion, I once more embraced the tree that is struggling with all its force. The shabby-colored tree trunk full of wounds was nothing but dazzling to me.

If you go to Kyoto, I highly recommend you to pay a visit to the tree in the inner yard of Goshyo. It is not described in any guidebooks though. You must pay a visit to this tree while deliberately introspective of your heart every step of the way as it suddenly appears, as if a great piece of art in front of you, as if a prayer.

You might feel the energy of life and the spirit of our ancestors from 1400 years ago.

Falling flowers

          silently falling five-colored autumn leaves

not to be found

The season of feeling the spirit

of silence and introspection

being miraculously naked

Burying its two feet on that deep yard

being naked

 alone

Loud sounds of pumping up water and cultivating life

Just a single shabby body to the eyes of the ordinary

with the mind’s eye

with one’s spiritual eye one could see

Its splendid joy and keen prayer