INTRODUCTION
✨ In this contemplative writing, Master Woo Myung reflects on the countless stories of human life—joys and sorrows that seem meaningful to people, yet exist only within their thoughts. 🌿 Nature itself—the river, the mountains, the sky—simply exists, unchanged, while human stories arise and disappear like dreams.
Master Woo Myung explains that people live absorbed in possession, relationships, and memories, unaware of the true meaning of life. 🌌 These stories, passed down as histories, are ultimately tales of ghosts—non-existent beings living in a non-existent world. Only nature remains, silent and eternal.
This writing reveals that the purpose of human birth is not to build stories in a world of illusion, but to become one with the world itself. 🌠 When one lets go of possession and becomes empty, what is truly one’s own is finally discovered.
ORIGINAL WRITING BY MASTER WOO MYUNG
The Meaningless Stories of Life
Over in the far side of the open field,
the river flows silently.
Holding the stories of joys and sorrows,
the river and the water exist,
but the stories only exist within the thoughts
of the people that hear them.
Within those stories of sorrow,
they would have had similar thoughts to mine.
In the mountains, birds are chirping,
river-birds are flying by the riverside,
and at night, a wolf howls and an owl hoots.
Pheasants and squirrels that dart around looking for food during the
day are all asleep,
as are the mountain birds and creatures.
From the depths of the mountains,
the sound of the temple bells rings my heart.
Those bells must have rung out for hundreds of years without fail,
but no traces of the many people who have lived here remain.
People lived ignorant of the meaning and purpose of their birth,
and passed away after living a lifetime of seventy-odd years.
Their stories may have been passed down,
but there is no trace of them –
they are all dreams that have drifted by.
All those who lived this meaningless life with greed,
those who dominated over the world,
those who robbed and were robbed –
they have all disappeared.
The smoke of dinner cooking rises from the chimneys of every house
in the village,
and farmers are hurriedly finishing up their work.
Those who have returned from the fields gather at the inn
to drink a bowl of makgeolli before heading home.
They chat with their families over the evening meal,
and as night falls, the rowdy chirping of crickets
mirrors the villagers’ gossip.
The families, the villagers, live oblivious of many things –
the meaning of life, and what it is to live –
They are focused only on how to possess things in their present lives.
It is while they are trying to live better lives,
that they die holding onto their sorrowful stories.
When a drunken husband passes away,
his wife cries relentlessly despite all the trouble he gave her
because of the strong brand of affection
that comes from a mixture of love and hate.
All people each have their own stories,
etched into their numerous minds.
Even now, after much time has passed,
people live in an illusion, a world of ghosts.
The neighbors, villagers, parents, siblings, spouses and children –
everyone – were all ghosts.
From the viewpoint of the world, man is a non-existent entity that
lives in a non-existent world – namely, man is a ghost.
Stories and histories are all tales of ghosts.
Ghosts disappear but nature remains.
The sky that is great nature, just exists, without changing,
and if man became one with the world of great nature,
he would live there as an eternally living immortal,
but man, who tries to make everything his, disappears completely.
The reason and purpose man is born into the world
is to become one with the world,
and to be born in the world.
Those who build towers in the world of ghosts are foolish,
and those who amass blessings in the world are wise.
When there is nothing that is yours in all that you have and own,
in not possessing, you can find what is truly yours.
Man does not know whether he is living or dead,
and he tries hard to possess things,
but everything he has is false,
because all things do not exist.
When there is nothing that is mine,
there is what is truly mine.
– Woo Myung
REFLECT AT SANTA CLARA MEDITATION
At Santa Clara Meditation, practitioners are guided to see beyond the stories and memories stored in the mind. 🌿 Through meditation, one awakens from the world of ghosts and comes to live as one with nature itself—free, complete, and alive in Truth.
