Harvest Thy Self

Where will you run to now?

The title of this piece is something I adopted from one of my students (I’d rather call them clients because they’re working to reposition themselves in ways that make them attractive and desirable in the American market we call the college process) and are doing a damn good job; especially seeing that they speak English as second language! But anyways, my critiques of the Korean education system, and further the whole college admissions process and what globalization has done to that process, will be neglected at this point in time. What is important here is the necessity of self-reflection.

Working with these students has been one of the most infuriating and challenging things I have ever done. I tell them to do certain things because I want them to succeed; I would like to guide them down the right path. I’ve said this before to them, and I’ll say it again: I’m not here to write their essays (although many times that’s what the editing process is so I suppose that’s why editors are always put on the cover of books) but rather to help channel the passion, angst, joy, peace or whatever emotion the story evokes for the writer and experiencer onto the paper. When they don’t listen, their work becomes a heap of crap resulting in bland, mundane stories of snotty brats.

And yesterday I read an essay that [unintentionally] bashed a certain community and the level of damage control and revision that was necessary no longer made it a substantial essay. I was then told I had to re-brainstorm with this client in terms of how to successfully market himself, without it being at the expense of others. As we are sitting and he’s nodding his head, in what I call pseudo-understanding, I feel an enormous amount of anger. Not so much at him but at this system of bringing me into a foreign country, forcing this kid to interact in a language that is not his own, all the while somehow maintaining an expectation of exceptionalism. Sounds like a trap to me.

But then the essay arrived. He composed this magnificent account of his experience of picking peppers under the blazing summer sun on his Grandfather’s farm. And in retelling this process of carefully inspecting peppers prior to plucking them off the vine and tossing them into the bag, he discovered something else. He revealed a message of the harvesting of oneself; the nuances of his life had never been more clear as he was standing on a field with nothing to do but pick peppers and reflect.

So many times we push the process of revelation to the back burner; we assume that we can go throughout our daily activities without thinking of what has been done. We assume that we can turn a blind eye and not dwell on the past when we weave the fabricated reality that remembering unwanted events fosters regret. But we do ourselves a disservice when we think in such an absolute way; we must acknowledge what has been in order to understand what could be. Part of our daily activity is to take responsibility for the actions we have took in order to successfully not have to admit to mistakes in the future.

When you’re engaging in an activity that seems so pointless, repetitive and downright boring we have nowhere to run from our own minds—the collective of thoughts that formulate our very being. We busy ourselves with different activities subconsciously prioritizing them based on how much attention they will take. But like the pepper farm where this boy works under the blaring sun, we too have moments that demand introspection. We must not let these go under the belief that we will remain in the past.

I think about my time now in Korea where I live on my own and outside of planned meetings; I am stuck with myself. I shuddered at the idea of being alone but I was unsure why. As I read his narrative I began to stop and turn around, looking at my own self within my head. Why was I afraid of this solitude? What was I running from? I began to identify the fear of having to be accountable for what I have done, or haven’t done, and the aftermath of that awareness.

But regret only emerges with the absence of the desire to improve and move forward. I am bigger than my faulty actions, misjudgment and disobedience. I know who I have been called to be. It hurts to identify wrongs but this process does not have to lead to condemnation. There is a metaphysical step between knowing what has been done and beating yourself up over that action. I’ll be honest, there are many a time when I feel shame and angst, but feeling so was always a choice. The source of knowledge, pride and joy is in knowing oneself. We must weed out the negative, harmful, unripe produce from our trees of self. We must toss it back into the soil so that it could replenish the roots of our identity and serve as the foundation of the ripe fruits of our laborious struggle of self-improvement.

γνῶθι σεαυτόν.