Tag: flow

Flying Dragons

Just a few episodes to go, of the best historical drama I’ve seen… a show that has been a vehicle to learn so much Korean history, and more importantly, has gotten under my skin with its surging and delving story lines and layered, duplicitous characters. How horrifyingly beautiful humanity seems, when taking in so many sides…

Bang Won’s obliterating ambition and ruthless willingness to betray anyone who presents an obstacle, coexists with a high-minded, and at least at first, softhearted calling, to take hold of and make a new world. And Yoo Ah In is an actor able to carry that role… able to allow the child, the future king, the idealistic adolescent, the ruthless prince, and everyone in between, to ebb and flow across his face.

Bang Won 2

He is not the only stellar actor in this series. SFD has transformed my impressions of an actor who plays harsh mother roles too well in other dramas, an actor who played a flat character-ed ex-boyfriend in a disappointment last year, and an actor who was ‘just okay’ as a lead after being a marvelous ensemble actor in Misaeng. It also gave a perfect opportunity to an actor I like, who isn’t always liked in general. Shin Se Kyung was the reason I was first drawn to the series, not immediately recognizing Yoo Ah In from Secret Love Affair.

Boon Yi

I love passionate takes on history, especially histories of places like Korea, which has fallen into the background of other histories (China, Japan) so often. Official writings are gleaned from not without skeptical inquiry, understanding the power dynamics of the times in which they were penned. This allows for revisiting of scenarios and flawed, majestic figures like Jung Do Jeon, the first Prime Minister of the Joseon Dynasty he co-conspired to establish.

Approaching this kind of material originally, I had hopes of gaining a better understanding of Confucianism in practice, Silhak especially, of which Jung Do Jeon was said to be the first, though unofficial, scholar. I’ve not had much luck in that regard. By the time I come to this subject matter, it is through so many other subjects, all of which have left indelible imprints, each necessary to understand the other therefore not so easy to parse apart.

Six Flying Dragons spans from the end decade or so of Goryeo, into the founding of the new country designed to be ‘for the people’, rather than for the corrupt leaders. At least in this telling, the issues of the time bear resemblance to current political discourse around inherited wealth and power, and the cycle/system which shuts out and exploits common laborers.

Sambong’s revolutionary vision (Sambong is Jung Do Jeon’s pen name) was meticulously written out and had begun to be implemented with King Taejo on the throne, before what is called the first ‘Strife of Princes’, when Lee Bang Won raises forces against Jung Do Jeon’s influence, killing he, and two of his younger brothers, one of whom was named Crown Prince. Still, Jung Do Jeon’s writings, left behind, and the vision contained within, would be the blueprint for the next 500 hundred + years.

Previously, my impressions of Lee Bang Won had been limited to the awful figure of a father shown in Tree with Deep Roots, which follows Six Flying Dragons chronologically. That drama centers on the scholarly and most highly praised of all the kings of Korea’s history, Sejong the Great, who was the third son of King Taejong (who Lee Bang Won would become), an admirer of Jung Do Jeon’s philosophy, and who created the Korean alphabet Hangul.

Had I done a little homework back then, I might have had more regard for King Taejong’s complexity, but instead had resigned him to the category of brutal dictator. SFD rights that error in spades, by giving many reasons to fall in love with his sense of righteousness early on. He had me when he asserted his desire to be not good, but just.

“I looked for you” he says to Sambong, when meeting him for the first time. “I have seen all your thoughts; my heart raced again.”

idealistic bang won

And although drunk with power as he takes the lives of his enemies, there is also the reaching in for something like prayer, somehow the sense of sacred duty as he acts, and as he accepts his actions and what may result. His willingness to act, and to accept responsibility and blame, is key to our almost understanding him.

Bang Won

I love also, when a writer is able to sneak something or someone in, and in just a few scenes, impart another entire captivating story line, as these have done with Cheok Sa Gwang.

Cheok Sa Gwang

The elegance and brutality of the fighting, the high regard for each character’s skill and dreams; rarely granting their wishes but rather giving them Roles, often of honor, within wider, overlapping landscapes.

Bang Ji

All the while (48 episodes out of 50, so far, and never losing momentum!) watching I’ve held a sense of shared values and trust, like I had with Misaeng. Blends (fact and fiction, fantasy and history, romance and trajedy), are my favorite genre; not much else makes sense.

Even the music is fittingly haunting.

And, in spite of the serious tone you might gather from these glimpses, this is also a world with warmth, love, and humor, that even allows for a character like Hwarang Warrior Gil Tae Mi.

Gil Tae Mi

And warrior Moo Hyul, the supremely tenderhearted…

Moo Hyul

mandala

When out of flow, there is something left unacknowledged… neglected… something to give away. At times it is a phone call, or promise not yet followed through with (to myself or others). Maybe I’ve not gotten quiet enough for the still small voice of intuition to float up to conscious experience. I begin to ask, “Did I follow the last instruction? What WAS the last instruction?”

Elizabeth Gilbert described a similar sensation recently:

“I am writer. If I have a story in me that I’m not able to tell, things will start going wrong all over my life. If I have a story in my head and I tell it, “I’ll get to you in 2015,” that story will start to rebel, start to act out, start to claw at the walls. That’s when the shit gets dark in my world.

Because having a creative mind is something like a owning Border Terrier; It needs a job. And if you don’t give it a job, it will INVENT a job (which will involve tearing something up.) Which why I have learned over the years that if I am not actively creating something, chances are I am about to start actively destroying something.”    Elizabeth Gilbert

So, here, is my shot in the dark, for what is waiting to be seen…

Mandala

Three years later, I understood the dream mandala. It had been a gathering of distinct scenes, some illuminated. A circle of singing angels was among the bright spots, as were various work places, passageway kitchens. A grand and wide-spreading tree dug into the heart, under which refugees gathered. Yet that area was dark, awaiting resources. I leaned my face nose to nose with a small, unknown child, and felt responsible for her.

On the outskirts of the mandala was a fence, separating the scenes from a parking lot where visitors arrived – people who in some cases were intimate friends, yet couldn’t or wouldn’t, intermingle with the rest. I remember feeling that those inside of the fence would be benefited by their incorporation, but that it wasn’t the only way. A usually tired friend arrived, with long healthy hair, seeming much younger (A few months later she received a large inheritance which unburdened her deepest concerns).

I was looking for my son (a recurring happening from the time he was very young) and could get through some areas very easily but, like a labyrinth, other areas were less welcoming. I tried to climb up a set of small stone stairs and when hindered, another passage appeared, sloping down. There he was. I sat on a bench and simply watched him playing for a while.

….
I have wondered whether this is a story not to tell but to paint, but I don’t paint anymore. I gave up painting because I was mediocre and not as compelled as I have been to write. This afternoon, a cousin from a part of my family I love but am not entwined with, said that she and her parents cherish the painting I gave them… that it remains in their main living room. I couldn’t remember, although it must be a copy of the first painting, the one I lost myself in entirely as though under anesthetic, emerging with it finished and projecting a certain portal energy. The experience of that painting, more than the finished product, felt to be a taste of an entire lifetime… each stroke a particular journey, arising from previous strokes yet also from nowhere, coming together in a restful Flow.

 “Great things are done by a series of small things brought together.”
-Vincent Van Gogh