JEJU RENAISSANCE (PART TWO): A MYSTERIOUS STRANGER

During my years in high school, I had come across Mark Twain's The Mysterious Stranger. The discovery of this posthumous novel was a revelation as it seemed to address my own crises during those years. Twain wrote multiple versions of this novel, and one critic's claim that Twain's issues and questions have become irrelevant is an example of such critical hubris with regard to this serious dimension of Twain.  He wrote a number of versions of this final novel which was pieced together by scholars after his death. Little did I realize then, that just as his book had served as my mysterious stranger, I would encounter a similar visitor more than 60 years later.

As I prepared for my final summer at New York University and our final articulation of the international multimedia workshop IMPACT, I remained inspired but somewhat fatigued from 50 years of commitment to to a process of implementing a vision for the future that served to pioneer new programs. I would soon begin a terminal sabbatical, but I couldn't see beyond that. The world terminal loomed ominously.

But in May 2017, I encountered a stranger, a mysterious stranger...mysterious because the stranger came from out of nowhere but appeared to know everything about me, including a sense of future fortune. It was almost as though the stranger had come from my remote past, perhaps a previous lifetime that was now vividly present.

The stranger was magical, playing to my sense of fate and entanglement, turning the present into a series of transforming moments by embarking on a journey to new terrain, uncovering destinies I somehow had neglected. "Who are you?" I asked. The stranger smiled and shrugged, gesturing toward an evolving entity that began to take shape.

"I was hoping you might remember..." The stranger pointed to mountains on an island by conjuring images of lush terrain, waterfalls, volcanoes that had given the island a sacred presence, of Seobul, a Chinese emissary, who had visited this island seeking the source of life and well-being more than two-thousand years ago. I could feel the magic spell of the island.

I recalled that I had been told of this island before, and had felt drawn to the magic of its location bounded by the Pacific Ocean and the Yellow Sea.. I remembered my story for a film that had begun to emerge of an older man who was on a quest to find the love of his youth and travelled the world, following clues that eventually led him to the isle of Jeju.

As I dwelt upon these incantations of the future, the stranger conjured a marvelous odyssey that led me to Jeju. In that deep mysterious enclave, I felt the immense presence of Mount Halla (Hallasan), the volcano that gave final shape Jeju as it erupted into existence 100,000 years ago. It can be seen from everywhere on Jeju as among the tallest mountains of Asia. Jeju island is just 25 miles across (north/south axis) at its widest point and some 45 miles long from west to east. Initially, the island was formed by volcanic activity two million years ago. I stood on the seacoast rock near Mount SanBangSan on this part of the island that stretched back to two million years. It is a wild and raw terrain, with winds so fierce at times that I could lean against the wind and be held upright. I walked up Seongsan Ilchulbong (Sunrise Peak), the volcano that is the signature image of Jeju.

In Jeju, I found such wonders, and a sense of spiritual renewal. Anyone would be stunned by the richness of the plants and vegetation, the abundance of fish from such varied oceans, and the majestic skies defining the more than 300 volcanoes and tremendous forests that are the habitat of an array of birds and wild life, including the 60,000 wild horses on Mount Halla.

Of all the renaissances that have renewed my spirit, nothing has touched me as deeply as this quest to this island of antiquity that has long been a destination for spiritual renewal, healing, and well-being. In many ways this new quest wiped away impediments structured by a mindset developed over the years, and at 81, I seemed catapulted back to myself at 18, perhaps an historic palindrome. Suddenly I felt the surge of energy in the midst of an island serving as an icon for spiritual well-being and freedom.

The stranger, reading my mindset, created a new panorama and then just as unexpectedly as appearing, vanished.

I was alone.