He'll Do Well

22. 하면 잘 하겠다.

22. He'll Do Well

The flames flickered in the fireplace. Using well-dried sesame stems as kindling, I stoked the fire, adding one bay tree log after another, taking care to avoid overlapping them so that the wind could travel through.

Even toilet paper from the bathroom went up as kindling. Suddenly, I was approached from behind by Rev. Nongtawon, who assured me that even Ven. Chŏngsan had started out with the duty of tending the fire before going quickly on her way.

The bay wood burned weakly, and I had to place another set of logs on the fire before going to bed after my evening bell ringing. There were several of us depending on the small wooden boiler, so we were only slightly warmed.

As I lay down, I was overcome with different thoughts. Leaving my job and heading out onto the chilly streets, the passionate dedication and effort it had taken—all of it had been my decision. It hurt, but I had no regrets. Any failures were mine to confront.

And then I looked at myself and the way I had fallen into a current through the combination of decisions and destiny. I had decided to give myself over to that current, like a sailboat in the breeze.

On the side of the road to Choseonji, construction of the Sŏn center was underway and the site was thronged with workers from before daybreak until dark. Inside a shipping container next to the rising structure, Rev. Nongtawon offered morning and evening prayers, while I busied myself driving a Ceres truck up and down Mandeoksan Mountain. The days were especially clear and dry that year, and the construction proceeded apace.

Late one night, I had an unexpected visit from Rev. Nongtawon.

“You need to pack your things. You’ll have to leave here at daybreak,” she told me. 

“Yes, I understand,” I replied.

Just as I turned around to close the door and leave, she called me back and told me to sit down. The Sangsawon center at the foot of Mireuksan Mountain, where Ven. Chwasan lived, was urgently looking for someone, she explained, and she had recommended me for the job.

This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to serve one of the great elders of the order; she implored me not to let it slip away. She went on to say that I would learn more from him, urging me to forget all about my experience here and adding that she would forget me as well. I felt conflicted about leaving Mandeoksan Mountain, where there was so much to do that every absence was keenly felt.

A few months earlier in the late fall, when red pepper-picking season was underway on Mandeoksan Mountain, Rev. Nongtawon had once taken me to meet Ven. Chwasan to offer my respects. Even though he had been entertaining another visitor, I was embarrassed that Ven. Chwasan merely looked at me once and then remained silent, not giving me another look.

Self-conscious, I sat in the corner. When the moment came again, Rev. Nongtawon introduced me twice more. Finally, Ven. Chwasan said, “He’ll do well.” That was it.

The words seemed trivial to me then, but Rev. Nongtawon had not forgotten. She had held on to them, and now, with the affinities of time coming to pass, was letting me go without regret so that I could study and grow under this venerable figure.

“He’ll do well.” I have marked these words, and even now there is only doing.

When nurturing students and juniors, the leader must first fathom their own strength, basing their leadership on an accurate understanding of the junior’s spiritual capacity. Otherwise, they may turn good spiritual capacity into a gourd; one wrong step, and they might find themselves estranged or even committing transgressions because of a superlative student. For this reason, one is only a right teacher when they carry on the dharma vein and the vein of faith from a searcher who is superior to them. Mark this point well.

—Dharma Instructions by Prime Dharma Master Daesan, Vol. 3, 1:20