My hometown, ‘Honam Plain’ region

My hometown, Iksan in Cholla-do, is located in the ‘Honam Plain’ region, consisting rich soil and flat land. It was blessed with rich soil, optimal for high-quality rice production. Like the generous land, the peasants who primarily lived on the ‘Honam Plain’ had warm, giving hearts, with a love of good food, of sharing, and of dancing. The people of this coveted land have been historically exploited by struggles for its possession. Therefore, the rich soil of the ‘Honam plain’ had been wet all throughout Korean history with struggling people's blood. The condition of Japan’s colonization got worse and worse. After having completed a land survey, Japan planned to meet its food grain shortage with increased rice productions in Korea and large quantities were shipped to Japan and to China for Divine Japanese soldiers. This left facing destitutions Korean farmers and starvations and, of course, my hometown on the ‘Honam Plain’ got the very critical heat. Japanese occupation (1910-1945), followed by Korean War (1950-1953) and Post-War were the most difficult time in our hometown due to the fertile soil conditions. But, the peasants in this generous land had to survive with severe exploitation—Heavenly Japanese Emperor forced to dress like them and speak only Japanese language—no more Korean language—no more Korean clothes—no more Korean name—no more Korean speaking.

My grandpa’s families, mostly Korean traditional doctors, were one of the richest families in the whole province. So, my grandpa, the third son in the wealthiest family, inherited one third of the property. They saved many farmers and children’s lives. Korean traditional doctors used natural ingredients, like herbs and roots, to heal others. Using basic and natural methods, my grandpa’s families taught farmers about our universal nature and the order of the cosmos. We were educated how to plant farming better and when to harvest on the dependency of the universal nature. Since they interpreted the movement of Moon according to the universal nature, our ritual activities were mostly conducted the movement of the moon cycle. So they were educators and healers! But my extented families were the people who were not pleased by the Japanese during the Occupation.  My grandmother was only one to survived.

Three year-old woman from the East

On February 23, 2007, I woke up in the critical ICU at Albany Medical Center due to a brain aneurysm rupture. The first surgery consisted of a neurosurgeons’ drilling on my head in order to drain the blood. My neurosurgeon explained that I should think of my brain as having had bombing attack. So it was a war against my body. Hospital showed extra care when draining the fluid from my ruptured brain, taking a long time to drain the blood. When I wanted to change my body positions, I had to let the nurse know so that the nurses and patient assistants had to move all the monitoring wires and draining equipment to the other side. They had to make sure the draining equipment and my eyes were parallel, otherwise I would suffer a terrible headache or increase my brain pressure, which could cause death. From this procedure, I learned that I had been taking for granted so many things without realizing. So I have learned to be humbled. So I have learned not to take things for granted. After more than one month of hospitalization in both the critical ICU and the regular ICU, I came home, but I was very weak-- I could not even walk properly, and I could not sit or stand more than one hour. I was only allowed to go upstairs in my house with an adult’s supervision. Visiting nurses and visiting physical therapists were assigned to teach me how to dress, how to walk, how to go upstairs, and how to take a shower.

The first thing I did was turn my backyard into an organic vegetable garden. By working in the soil, planting seeds, and connecting to mother earth, I recovered and reconnected to memories and lessons from (1) my mom— a “food alchemist” who said that love is the most important ingredient in both the cooking and sharing of food; (2) my grandmother—a “peace warrior,” who converted, into compassion, her resentment and the pain of losing everything from multiple wars, and from (3) the land of my birth, Korea— the “mo(u)rning land” full of crying souls, and filled with wisdom and determination through gathered from hardship and suffering . This recultivation of my roots has been one of the blessings of my sickness. I did not have any intention of seeking spiritual growth, but found that it came naturally through my healing journey.

During healing, I have reconnected to nature and mother earth, using back-to-basics and back-to-nature gardening, cooking and healing methods. As I write this, I approached 3 years anniversary since the day I woke up in the hospital. To this date, I have had only four brain-related surgeries, and I have only some setbacks. The biggest change in my life after my life being near-death experience would not take things for granted, which make me appreciate my life more and live every day to the fullest. My healing journey has made me live everyday as if it were my last day. I am not the same person prior to my sickness. I am different as search for underlying causes and look deeper and deeper to find truth in a logical way. My healing journey has been beautiful. Overall, I feel wonderful! I have created my own utopia in my home and my yard, where I can breathe freely and experience peace and love, and the fifth dimension, which perceives and understands our physical universe into the sense of being whole.

Since the rupture, I consider my self “three year-old woman from the East” who has been gifted a second life. I honor the dead people and their souls to heal them through the themes of nourishment, love, and compassion.

Root (Yang) energy Tea

"Root (Yang) energy Tea contains the roots of ginger, garlic, and scallion. This was one of the healing teas my grandma made for my dad during his beating recovery done by Japanese police. Japanese policemen realized that my dad was too weak to be drafted into the Japanese army to be used in the frontline as human bullet barricades for Japanese soldiers. Instead sending him to the war, they had beaten my dad until near death.  All the terrible atrocities were done in the name of Heavenly Emperor.  My grandma thought that she lost her only son, only son remaining out of the four she delivered. My grandma was crrrrrrrrrying for losing her only son. My grandma was crrrrrrrrrying for her only remaining hope. My grandma was crrrrrrrrrying for her only remaining root of our family, which could carry for the next generations and the next.

While she was crrrrrrrrrying, surprisingly she found that my dad was still breathing, still alive.  She could hear weak breathing.  My dad was still alive. He was in and out of conscious. My dad wasn’t dead.

My dad was breathing—Alive!

My grandma recalled that she thought that she lost my dad--only remaining son she had left. My grandma did everything she could to save my dad.. This was the healing tea to give my dada special power to stand up because ingredients of this Ginger, Scallion root and Garlic Tea are all ‘Yang’ vegetables, which have the tendencies to grow into the soil, going downward, pushed by the sun and therefore help you to ground and warm the body.

Influence by my grandma, this is the tea I drank to be grounded when I discharged from hospital, where I had stayed more than one month in both ciritical ICU and regular ICU.  When I came home, I was very weak-- I could not even walk properly, and I could not sit or stand more than one hour.
I made the Root (Yang) energy Tea for myself and I drank.
This is the tea I drank when I had no hope because some doctors were very skeptical about my prognosis. This is the tea I drank before I turned my backyard into an organic vegetable garden in order to be connected to mother earth.

My Grandma

My Grandma died when I was 17 years old.

I remember that my grandma always wore the color white –her clothes were always ironed and always clean – with her hair pulled tightly back, wound tightly, and fixed with pins tightly. She was small, slim, standoffish, rigid, and quiet. She had small eyes widened with determination and stubbornness, putting a distance to others always. To me, she was unlike her hardhearted expression, she was my warm and loving grandma who shared her indigenous wisdoms with me. My grandmother’s name is HongChun Yi, meaning ‘Spreading springtime all over’.

A quiet story teller, who lived with “wait and hope” as her philosophy, she was always waiting for her ‘Spring’ to come so that she could spread it all over.

Now, through me, my grandma intended to record onto my body, my mind, & my heart, her story of pain and resentment at losing everything to multiple wars.

The exercise of retelling her brutal experience began when I was 9 years old. She expected me to repeat her life story back to her until I got it right. If I recited differently, she would correct and ask me to begin again and again. I would often fall asleep in the middle of a recitation with words in my mouth. I never complained then, that there were too many repetitions because I loved talking. When I was 12 years old, I was able to tell my grandma’s story without her stopping me.

Through soooooooo many repetition, I learned to convey her alchemy—how she converted her resentment into compassion for perpetrators of wars—those stories were repeated in me and recorded in my heart, my body, and my mind. Her intention was to convey to the world, through me.

I love retelling my grandma’s experience.

One Kidney Bean’s Destiny‏

One Kidney Bean’s Destiny


One morning in the early Spring of 2009, I saw a kidney bean on my kitchen floor while I was cleaning.



A few days before, I had made “Pumpkin Soup with 108 Kidney Beans”



Had this one fallen on the kitchen floor so as not to be cooked? It got my attention.



I knelt and asked the kidney bean,



“What are you doing here?”

“Why are you here?”

“What do you have to say to me?”



There was No response from the bean.

It made no answer.

For some moments, I stared at it with curiosity and asked.



“What do you want me to do for you?”



A kidney bean cannot answer. And, I don't have an answer either.



Out of curiosity, I kept the kidney bean in my pocket and wondered about its significance for two days. One thing for sure was that this bean had a message for me. And I needed to figure out: It was left uncooked and unconsumed, unlike the rest of the kidney beans in my soup.



It was different from the rest. It was unlike the rest of the kidney beans in my soup.



I remembered the phrase; 'To Stand In Someone Else's Shoes.'



I asked myself: What would you like to do if you were a kidney bean? What would you like to do if you were chosen to fall to the kitchen floor?



The answer came instantaneously. This kidney bean must have a destiny to share with me.



After the speculation of two days, I concluded that this kidney bean had been given a second life. It must have a chance to live in the best way and to die peacefully. This was my answer to the kidney bean.



In April 2009, I planted this kidney bean in my backyard garden, along with other kidney beans, but I marked its spot with a pink ribbon so that I could recognize it later. I am not sure if I provided extra care and tenderness to this kidney bean –because it grew to be much stronger than the others. This bean produced many more kidney beans than the other bean did.



I learned that this kidney bean’s destiny was with me, to be given a second life, to live well by receiving my love and end productively and peacefully. That’s one kidney bean’s destiny!



What about my destiny?

What about your destiny?

What about our destiny?

What about the world’s destiny?