My name is Peter Park. I was named after the Catholic apostle Peter, the keeper of the church keys.
My family name is Park even though a more accurate translation would be Pak. In fact, I have cousins with Pak as their surname. New country, new name.
I was born in the United States. A strange factoid that I constantly have to tell people. I say it is strange because I'm in America, and well, because I was born in the United States. I wonder how many times a white American has to tell others that they were born here? Blacks? Latinos? I guess I can commiserate with my Arab, Indian, and other Asian breathen though.
As a university resident assistant, I had to take courses relating to diversity training and such. They told us an interesting experiment. Grab a bunch of college kids and ask them to write down adjectives describing themselves. All of the minorities will list their minority status as an adjective. Whereas, the norm or majority rarely will ever be writing down white, heterosexual, physically able, and so on.
Even here, a post describing myself, I start off describing my family background, my pseudo-immigrant status. Because, I guess as a Korean American, this feeling of being the outsider was and is continually present. Time, environment, culture, race, and so on are large contributing factors. And then there are the more personal, more unique conditions of my life like the structure of my particular family, my upbringing, and so on.
I Am from Oceania
I remember vividly standing outside my middle school with my other classmates waiting for the morning bell so we could enter the school. For the millionth time, some kid is asking me where I'm from. I'm tired of answering. Despite the fact that America fought a major war in Korea just some 40 years previous, no kids know what Korea is. They only know China and Japan. I'm tired of explaining that I'm from Korea but I was born here. The word "but" as in "I am really America just like you though." I'm tired of explaining where Korea is and how we're different from China and Japan. But then again, I don't even know myself really. I invent a new answer. I'm from Oceania, a union of the Pacific island nations. Our official national anthem is Under the Sea. We love seafood and can speak with dolphins.
Perhaps, that's the beginning of my later habit of jokingly lying to people. Not in a malicious manner. But I lie because lies are more interesting than truth. And when you push the bounds of the lie to the incredulous, it's like a joke with an ending punch line. It's also amazing to see just how believing others are.
Language - Korean, English, Korean?
There's also the fact that I was raised in a pretty traditional Korean household. Everyone spoke Korean. My grandmother never learned any English. My mother struggles with it even now. My father speaks perfect English but still seems to feel awkward or embarrassed speaking it. So, my first tongue was also Korean. I went to kindergarten unable to communicate with anyone. Despite my later academic successes, I was a bad student through my early schooling.
In an ironic, tragic paradox, I would forget my Korean tongue entirely and learn English instead. My parents instructing my brother to only speak English with me. So, to this day, my Korean is inadequate. I can't have even the simple luxury that most children enjoy with their parents. The ability to communicate with them. To joke with them. To talk about their day. I gained the ability to interact with the world and lost the ability to talk to my native people.
In looking at my life, I constantly see myself standing in between two worlds. I see the light and the shadow. But I belong to neither. These contradictions are everywhere. Or are they complimentary, polar sides?
Am I poor or am I rich?
My parents often like to say how my birth marked the beginning of our age of prosperity. My father purchased his first dry cleaners store after I was born. By the time I entered elementary school, my parents were able to purchase their first and only new house built from scratch. I remember once walking in the house while it was still under construction. I was terrified walking up the stairs because I was fearful I would somehow fall through the holes between the steps.
Back then I imagined we were pretty well off. Not necessarily rich but doing really well in comparison to others. In hindsight, I can see it was just the surface level of things. The success math formula for immigrant entrepreneurs is often overlooked despite how simple it really is. You have a father and a mother both working in a store. Often times you have children helping out. After rent and utilities, the highest expense for a business is probably labor cost. But with the entire family working, you don't have any employee expenses. If both parents work even 10 hours a day for five days a week then you get a hundred hours a week combined. Multiply by four and get four hundred hours a month. 400 hours. Even at minimum wage then, the immigrant family together can at least earn a modest middle class income. In times of prosperity, they can do exceedingly well and able to hire employees. In a down economy, they can hopefully pay rent and food. This is a conservative calculation too. My parents work six days a week with my father working 12 hours/day.
Of course, America's religion is money. And my parents practiced it well. They fought constantly over money. I grew to absolutely hate money and business. I blamed it for my parent's fights. I blamed it for taking my parent's time with me. And for whatever reasons, my older brother seemed to get the largesse of our financial bounty. I was timid to ever request anything knowing how hard my parents worked to make the money. And perhaps in my childish mind, I believed somehow that I had some control. That if I didn't ask for anything then they would have more money and therefore be able to work less and fight less. Of course, it didn't work, but a child rationalizes as he needs to fit into reality.
So, there was this third paradox on top of my race and language ambiguity. I was embarrassed inviting others to my house. Our house was huge. We had a three car garage, a huge backyard, and the trapping of the nouveau rich. Except I didn't feel rich. Whereas my friends had parents waiting for them when they came home, my parents were still working. And I would later get my wish. The dry cleaners business declined and the age of prosperity died as it did for many Americans with the beginning of the new millennium. By the time I finished college, I was taking home more money in my part time job than my parents both earned in their over-fulltime businesses.
Religion and Church
My mother says that she thought I might become a priest when I was younger. I supposedly once kissed a picture of Jesus repeatedly. My family attended Catholic mass every Sunday. The service was held in Korean though. I didn't understand any of the words. I never learned the songs. In another twist of irony, I would be the worse altar boy ever. Often times, I would asleep during the priest's speeches. How could I help myself? Sitting in a chair with nothing to do and unable to understand anything this man of faith was saying.
The church for Korean Americans is a particularly sacred institution. Perhaps, our only one. In fact, you can divide Koreans in an area by their Christian affiliation. Are they Catholics, Baptists, Methodists, or other? It seems exceedingly rare for Koreans to reach across the aisle so to speak and be good friends with a Korean from another church. The church is the hub of social activity. It is where you make friends, meet potential lovers, and eventually get married. It's where you go on the holidays.
My church had a small youth group. There were several kids around my brother's age, but he's five years older than me. There were a few girls around my age, but I was extremely shy and awkward with girls back then. And I guess I still am. At least when it comes to my Korean church.
All of which is a roundabout way to say that I eventually grew to hate church as many kids do. As a young kid, I brought into the entire Jesus and God religion. I prayed to Jesus. And when things got bad, I often inquired to him why? Why would you create a world full of such suffering? What did I do to deserve this? I didn't see any answers as a kid. The therapeutic and socializing aspects of church started disturbing me. Rather than encourage and support each other, church goers seemed to compete with each other in comparing the successes of their children, their business, their wealth. Repeating the questions and thoughts that European philosophers earlier already raised, I came to believe the church was created by man for man. I rebelled.
Church and family. These are the most sacred things in the world to my parents. They were very unhappy. We had many heated arguments. I argued what was the point of going to a service where I didn't even understand the language. My father countered with an offer to go to a different church, an American church. Of course, I didn't want that either. I was done with Jesus and church. Eventually, I won. But victory was bitter sweet.
If the story ended with me as an angry atheist then there would be no paradox here. But religion has always been of great interest to me. My mother's insight may not have been so far off after all. I was always captivated by the power of faith. I remember my grandmother praying evey night with such conviction, strength, and sheer will. My amazing, 8th grade history teacher also introduced me to social justice, civil rights, and particularly the stories of the Holocaust, Gandhi, and Martin Luther King Jr.
What a fucking shitty text underneath but oh well
I could not help but wonder as the so called rationalists and faith in technology took over Europe in the 19th and 20th centuries, the worship of some metaphysical God was replaced with the deification of individual dictators. Stalin, Hitler, Mao ze Dung caused wars and genocides to levels that were never seen ever before or since. These were Godless men. Dictators who not only oppressed basic freedoms but outlawed religion altogether as well.
Yet, on the flip side there was Gandhi and Martin Luther
King Jr. Both spiritual figures who nevertheless were
considered controversial within their own religious communities. These were
spiritual men who inspired others to do good, to make
the world a better place. These were also men who inverted Maslow's Hierarchy
of Needs.
They endured physical, social, and life threatening dangers for the
sake of character, of social justice, of love. It must have been faith that
helped these men pass through those years of imprisonment to lead their fellow
men to do better. In fact, Martin Luther King Jr. once said that he sealed his
faith in the cause for civil rights after being at a speech by Thich Nhat Hanh,
a Vietnamese Zen Buddhist who was advocating for peace in Vietnam at the time.
Old Ways Gone, Death of Religion --> Vacuum Created --> Genocide and War
Now, I am not saying that science and reason are evil and cause brutal dictatorships. That would be jumping to conclusions. But as Nietzsche, Ernest Becker, and so many others have pointed out, with the destruction of the traditional ways of life, a vacuum was left which allowed those with the most forceful will to rally entire nations for their own cause. As Christian apologists often like to say, if God doesn't exist then anything is permissible. Like most sayings, there is some truth to this statement, but it's not the whole truth. More accurately, without an established norm, a person may do anything. But that is not to say that all things are equal. To a Christian, the disbelief in God would of course lead to moral relativity because they stake their morals onto God. But, it is entirely possible and arguably better to place your morals on even better ground. We, in the 20th and indeed even the 21st century, are still trying to figure it out. And so far, we have allowed ourselves to be motivated by our most instinctual drives. Will to life, will to power, will to pleasure. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Money, power, and pleasure. And so we in America have such oddities like a disdain for intellect and will fight for the rights of a corporation to not be taxed while absolving ourselves entirely of any responsibility to our fellow citizen. The challenge in such an environment will be how we as a people can have common values and beliefs to postpone our most base gratifications and shortsighted desires for the sake of long term health and prosperity. Obama's 2008 campaign often highlighted this idea of American values. Of our shared bonds and beliefs. But so far, unfortunately, things look grim.
Anyway, back to religion. This power of faith captivated me. Surely, there was something here. Perhaps, the typical Christian I meet was a poor example of a spiritual exemplar. But, it would be wrong to judge anything solely by its average product. In fact, not its average product. But it's earliest and less refined product. Its prototype. Just as it's unfair to judge all blacks by a single felon. To judge the value of an artist by his earliest work.
If I wanted to judge the strength of religion, I would look at its best people. The ones who committed their entire lives towards walking its path.
So, despite resigning my membership to my church or any religion, I added a Religious Studies major to my undergraduate studies. I would end up attending various Christian churches, mosques, Buddhist groups, and so on. I would study religions and especially its founding leaders and texts. For graduate school, I would end up applying to several religious studies programs. However, when I went to the American Academy of Religion Conference (the umbrella group for religious studies scholars in America), I was disappointed. I didn't realize it entirely then. But I didn't want to "study" religion or religious culture anymore. I wanted to become a spiritual exemplar. I wanted to practice religions as I believed they were intended to be practiced. To make better individuals. To become a Gandhi, a Martin Luther King Jr., a Thich Nhat Hanh. I wanted to follow the path of the mystics. To do yoga, meditation, trances, and so on. There was only a single panel at the conference that I truly loved. A small panel discussion on contemplative studies lead by smaller institutions or smaller programs within larger institutions like Naropa University, Duke, Emory, and X.
Despite my glowing grades, my high GRE scores, and glowing recommendation letters, I imagine most of the universities sensed my uneasiness in my personal statement because I would be rejected from most of the schools. Instead, I ended up going to a Continental Philosophy Masters program.
Be in the Moment, Plan for the Future.
I love to do lists. I've been compulsively writing them down for as long as I can remember. I also love being in the moment though. I love dancing when the entire world dissolves and all that's left is a beat guiding my body to do whatever it wants.
It’s eerie how well this TED talk correlates with what I wrote here up to around the five minute mark.
I remember before going to high school, I had the entire course handbook in my lap. I spent an entire day looking over every single course and deciding what I wanted to take over the next four years. Of course, my plans are always overly ambitious. I planned to take auto shop courses, to take hardware courses, to do computer programming, to take art classes, and so on. This exercise would come in handy though.
In my second year of college, I would create my own Religious Studies major program under the university's Liberal Arts program which allowed me to choose my own courses for my major.
During my third year of college, I suddenly found myself with a large monthly income. I was working as a university resident assistant which meant I received free housing. I already had a scholarship covering my tuition. My parents paid for my food plan. Education, housing, and food were all covered. I was also working still as an IT employee. I had two jobs and zero expenses. Rather than spend all my money on ipods and beer, I studied personal finance, the stock market, and did my best to prepare for my future. I used to track where every dollar I spent went and tried to cut down costs to the bare minimum. It was a bit extreme in hindsight. But a great deal of my later wealth which allowed me to purchase a used RV was from the money I saved in my last two years of college.
But this analytical, constant planner and todo list maker is in direct contrast to my belief in being in the moment. To the principles I see particularly in Buddhism and Daoism but present in all the major religions.
Practicing yoga or tai chi, the starting, necessary point is an absolute focus on the present moment. To being in alignment and sensitivity to one's own body. To the rising and falling of one's breath.
In my vipassana retreats, I continually re-learned the tricks of the mind, to the difficulty in mastering one's own thoughts. And that if one does not have control over one's mind then one doesn't have control over anything. You are simply a puppet of the universe and others.
And perhaps, what I'm realizing more and more today is that an inability to relax in times of ease and comfort leads to unhappiness, stress, and an inability to fully love one's self or others.
There is a time for work and a time for play.
If you are not here right now then you cannot be with anyone. You cannot enjoy life right now.
If you are not here right now then you are not here.
Fears, anxiety, stress, and all the unhealthy emotions spring from thinking about the past or the future.
Wisdom vs Love
I remember being a junior in college talking on AIM with a friend. This friend was an American who had converted to Islam. He was very devout and often times said very controversial things. But I respected his faith. I appreciated his sincerity. Rarely do I meet anyone with such conviction. And convictions attract others for better or for worse.
I remember particularly in this conversation saying that I was perhaps a man of wisdom, and he was a follower of love. I'm not sure why I said that about him. But, I do know that all this studying of philosophy, religion, history, psychology, and all these intellectual subjects had been enlightening but draining. Such studies were providing me with clarity but not necessarily positive motivation, joy, or encouragement. As I imagine most intellectuals end up, I hate groups yet love individuals. Groups are stupid. Groups fall down to their lowest denominator.
But I also knew that this can't possibly be right. What is the point of clarity, of seeing the world as it is with minimum illusion or delusion if you are unhappy. As the ending of Inception shows, who cares if reality is real if you can be with your loved ones and be finally happy? [corny I know but couldn't help myself, great fucking movie.] Philosophers choose death over compromising their integrity. Would rather be miserable assholes who know the truth than drunk, but sort of happy. Thoreau was supposedly an asshole. Socrates was said to be an asshole. Nietzsche died pretty alone. Sartre had many friends but wasn’t necessarily projecting the joy that a zen master does.
How did Gandhi see the brutality of the world, of people and yet still be happy? How did that Vietnamese monk sit down, pour gas on himself, and light himself on fire all the while smiling?
But most dearest to home, how did my mentor Dr P battle with leukemia on a daily basis and yet be the most happiest and loving person I had ever meet and probably ever will? Surely, it was not mere coincidence. And if these people could do it in the worse of circumstances then I could as well.
Perhaps walking the line with both wisdom and love is difficult but not impossible.
In the end, the answer to me always comes down to facing death. To constantly forget about your instinctual and mental ingrained habit of caring about number one so much and realize there's a whole mess of other people out there waiting for you. Not to say you devalue yourself. But simply that you realize the world does not revolve around you. As Osho would say, we are all flowers. Each of us are unique and special in our own way. Our destiny is not to homogenize into a singular whole nor is it to take over the grassy field. Each of us should bloom to our fullest potential, to our highest self. In such a world, everyone is the center point. A plurality. Each of us spring from a common ground and return to a common ground. We share in each other's joys and pains. We are all one and yet each of us are individuals.
Yesterday, I meet one of my old college mentors. I didn't have any particular agenda to talk about. I just wanted to see him. But, somehow, I ended up airing my troubles and struggles. Troubles that I can't describe to most people easily without having to then describe the entire underlying philosophy and beliefs. With him, I could use a common language to convey my thoughts quickly and easily. Hence, the reason for jargon in specialized fields. But most of all I think it was this insistent desire to resolve my contradictions, my polar opposites in life. But a fear or doubt that perhaps it's not possible or I don't know how. A yearning to be able to be whole. To not have to swear allegiance to just one side. And so on 30 hours later, I'm writing this. I'm not sure why.
Yesterday, a friend commented that I do think a lot. And I guess I do. I don't "think" more than others. But I do continually develop theories and ideas in my head. I have progressions. I have questions and ideas that I'm mining and trying to make clearer, fuller. To gain a higher perspective upon. I draw from books I've read, from philosophies and religions and scientific principles. As a philosopher, I want clarity and strength of argument. For the idea to be developed so that it might be consistent, have integrity, and apply in most cases.
I've spent my life trying to make myself better because character is the one thing that can never be taken from you. Virtue ethics says a good man does the right thing. And when you're trying to push yourself for the better, you don't have the luxury of entertaining for long false ideas and techniques.
In many ways, I feel like I'm still catching up to my American peers. My childhood was marked with inadequacy, low self-esteem. I was a skinny outsider with an ugly burn on my left arm. I started my interaction with Americans unable to speak English. I felt poor, stupid, and like I didn't fit in.
But I don't hate my background. I learned from it. I learned a lot from it. But, now, my challenge is how do I know when I can relax and how can I relax. When can I smell the roses. When am I content? When are risks allowed? I probably already know the answer but don't want to face it completely just yet.
But at some point, I do want to help others. And I do feel like I have something to offer. Perhaps not now. But in the future, yes. There are common principles to success. To love. To wisdom. To health. To happiness. These aren't steps or guides. But there are common principles. Take those that work and throw away those that don't.
I'm still walking that bridge. And there are countless bridges to still cross. But at some point, I'll finish one of these and want to discuss and write more. For the time being, I've been keeping it to myself. I want to first become the model exemplar. To prove my ideas work. To not be beholden to the admiration of others for my success or happiness. That leads to too many problems. When your livelihood depends on people believing you have the magic pill, the easy solution for everything then you inevitable end up becoming a crowd pleaser rather than a truth teller.
"We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience."Teilhard de Chardin