Shaman Walk.

If you take Line 6 to Dongnimmun station and walk down a winding alley and up a steep hill, you leave the contemporary cityscape of Seoul behind and enter a different era.  One clear Sunday morning, I did just that.  Clinging precariously to the rocky cliffside were traditional Korean homes.  Amidst them, the roofs and remnants of temples blended into the view seamlessly, creating a pastiche of domestic life, times, religion, and spiritual practices.  As I meandered slowly through concrete corridors and down rock-strewn paths, I left the city even farther behind and entered a world of shrines and shamans.  The path climbed ever-upwards and as I walked, a deep sense of purity, even clarity, overwhelmed my soul.  Around one turn, looking carefully, I saw an ancient Buddha carved into the granite cliff.  Candles and incense burned beside it, offerings and tokens of prayer.  I sat atop any number of jutting rocks and gazed down upon a breathtaking view of the city. Even more moving were the sights and sounds of shamans, engaged in their rituals.  One woman rhythmically pounded a drum and sang out, her ululating voice resonating with something unnamed within me.  I did not understand her words but could hear the plaintive notes in her voice.  It was a deeply moving experience.  When I finally reached the summit, I lay back on a rock and basked in the sunshine.  My thoughts were still and deep.  It was a moment of joy and reflection.  I reveled in the day, in the experience, and felt incredibly blessed to be in that place, at that time, feeling more alive than I had in a while.