Understanding the contrast

Ok, so I'm going to stop writing these entries as though I'm actually going to post more often. I'm certain that there will come a time at which I will need to write on here every day in order to feel close to you all, when the true tide of homesickness washes over me; but, at present, I'm still so busy trying to grasp hold of the world that it's next to impossible to write about it. Anyway, here's my attempt to discern light from shadow, to at least give you the silhouette of what I'm experiencing now. I say this because I've recently realized how much of my life I'm currently living outside of language, in a world of non-linear thought, where things are so indefinite and intractable that I have intense difficulty in truly charting them, even with the infinite scope of the English language.
From a perspective of making sense out of my world, things seem to have been grey for the past month, but only in retrospect. The world has slowly filtered its way into shadows as my new sense of self develops its lens on the world here. It is as though throughout the past month, I've been gazing through vaselined glasses at a world that I could not describe and it's slowly coming into focus. The lines surrounding each islet of existence that shares my world are coming into clearer focus. Honestly, it might be better to say that I've started seeing their shadows. It's all sounding a bit like the beginning of Plato's cave analogy in The Republic, but that's the way it is.
Life is profoundly more existential here. I see so much of my life as completely out of my hands, but my solution thusfar has been to do my absolute best to control those things that are within my grasp and to leave the rest to Korean benevolence and God's grace. I've shed several layers of self already as I've tried on personalities from my past. In many ways, the past month has been a run at several brick walls in the world of self-discovery. Actually, it's been like a walk of several short piers. These are all analogies I'm making largely for myself, and I will probably never go into this with any of you, but you should know that I'm growing, and peeling off unnecessary layers out here.
An example of what I mean is that for many foreigners here, Korea is analogous to that scene in Pinnochio that I always forget about. It's the scene where he goes to that land where all of the boys play and are mean to one another and eventually turn into donkeys. That's what life is like here at times. One skin I've done by best to shed is the one that would lead me to have ears for all of eternity.
One of my biggest issues so far with the journey has been that of wondering where I ought to head. Part of me was putting that on hold, hoping that it would come alongside my calling in life and there would be a moment where I spontaneously understood both what I should do for the rest of my life and who I ought to be while doing it. I have come no nearer to figuring out the former, except to say that I don't know that I want to have to worry about money too much in life. I really don't think that that's going to be escapable though. The latter, however, just like my life here, is starting to appear as a shadow of a thing. I've been reading my C.S. Lewis daily book from Mary and I just finished The Plague by Camus. Both books have been nudging me in a direction that I've been pulling away from in so many ways for so many years. I read them for the habit of it, knowing that if I set out to change my mind by will, I'd fail. In putting the ideas into my head, one drop at a time, I've started to finally feel a subtle shift under the surface. In the past, it seems, all of my best intentions were revelatory and awesome. There is something quietly wonderful about this change in me. I don't want to spook it with words, but it is the shadow of something like who I am to be. It's strange really, because I've been flailing as usual in all of the other directions. The only parallel I can really draw here (and many of you won't get this entirely) is to what Dave did for me when I moved back to Kentucky. He let me flail until I wore myself out, and I finally did and found my quiet joy again.
All of this probably sounds wildly disturbing to some of you, because it's a little more personal than what I've written on here so far. But, the lump sum of it is that I'm going to begin trying to do my best to not give what "plague" I carry to my fellow man. Dr. Kling once called me a "wounded healer" and now that I'm beginning to understand what he meant, I'm humbled by the high praise. At one point, I might have been merely that, but the work begins now to make myself worthy of the appelation of "wounded" healer. Again, rambling nonsense to many of you, but I've got to spill it.
So, anyway, the teaching goes well. Some days are wonderful, and others are frustrating. I feel myself becoming, by practice and subtly, a better teacher. Just like the C.S. Lewis and Camus, I'm adding a drop to the bucket each day, trying to put forth just enough effort to reach through without overreaching myself. I will not be the best teacher in the world overnight, and to think that I would be is ridiculous. I'm just doing my best to be a little better every day.
Otherwise, life goes on. Summer is turning to fall, so the sun has come out here and the humidity has lifted somewhat. Fall is supposed to be the best season here, which is the reason I'm going to be buying a bike as soon as I can. I need a way to explore more, and it'll get me to work faster and to the park to go running (traffic lights are killing my runs here). I'm feeling the need to get out of myself soon, and the bike might be the way to do it. If not, I'm counting on a few good runs to help.
All in all, I'm happy. I'm learning so much about myself, and the Korean, just like everything else, seems to be seeping in without much effort. I just keep constantly focusing, and slowly my vision improves. I guess what's really changed is that the focusing no longer feels like so much work. That's one to write home about.

Love to all of you. I miss you all so terribly it hurts, but only in fleeting moments.

Joe