And All The Devils

Chapter Three

Walking through the familiar streets of Toronto, the home of his childhood, Eugene Park could not help but compare it to the humid summer of Seoul. It had been over a year since he'd left Canada; in some ways, it felt more foreign to him now than Korea. He could still imagine Seoul perfectly, despite the searing cold winds that were whipping through him as he crossed through the streets.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost smell the spices that pervaded the air at the markets, the sesame oil and garlic mixing with the spices of tteokbokki and fresh fish cakes. He could still sense the urgency that pervaded the air, the constant rush of the people around him as they hurried through the streets.

It was just over one year ago Eugene left Canada, boarding a plane from Toronto and moving to South Korea, where his parents hailed from. Korea, the place where his love for Buddhism had been born. His grandfather lived at a monastery there and Eugene planned to join him, in order to study Buddhism in earnest.

He arrived with only the clothes on his back and his passport, unsure of what awaited him at the temple. Would the monks all be meditating in perfect silence, having been still for so long that birds perched on their heads? Would they be so at peace that he could physically see it on them, carrying their tranquility like a blanket draped over their shoulders?

Instead, when he walked up the dirt road and into the temple proper, he was surprised to see several monks clustered around a table, watching two other monks playing ping pong. The group was clearly taking sides; they alternated between cheering loudly and groaning as the match went on. Eugene couldn't help but admire them as they stood there, their robes a vibrant orange against their skin. The game ended and the monks all walked away, laughing and calling out to each other. Eugene was astonished to see some of them pull out cigarettes and light them up.

The temple was just as beautiful as he remembered it from two years prior, when his mother had taken him to see his grandfather. It had been winter then, and the main pagoda was nestled underneath a layer of snow, its multiple eaves all covered in a fine sheen of white. The air was still and peaceful, the large garden covered in a blanket of soft slush. Nearby, a stream attempted to flow. A giant Buddha statue adorned the courtyard, staring benevolently down at them with golden eyes.

The beauty outside paled in comparison to what was within. Stepping inside felt like coming home. Eugene's heart nearly burst when he heard his first sutra, chanted perfectly between the monks like a song being passed back and forth. His eyes reflected the thousand candles that were painstakingly lit each morning and evening, circling yet another statue of Buddha. He left the temple that day and declared to his mother he was going to become a monk. He remembered she'd been a bit shocked at his sudden resolution. But for Eugene, it was almost as if there was no choice involved. Something had drawn him in almost against his will; if he was a moth, the monastery was the flame. He met Buddhism, he fell in love, and without it he was incomplete. For him, it was that simple.

Eugene smiled now in remembrance of that first visit, the one that started his path. He couldn't help but miss the temple's nondescript walls and hard, concrete floors as he strolled through the streets of his childhood. Toronto was too loud for him now; he would have easily traded the incessant sounds of the city for the quiet chanting of the monks.

Although, if he was being honest with himself, he did miss wearing pants.

He reached under his black tuke and scratched the back of his scalp. His hair, which had been shaved every week for the past year, was starting to grow. Ignoring the sounds of swearing from behind him, Eugene tipped his head back and breathed in the cold air, letting it fill his lungs.

He opened his eyes to see the towering tops of the cathedral arching, dark and gray against the bright blue of the sky. It was an old catholic church, built in the early nineteenth century during Canada's g and complete with flying buttresses and vaulted ceilings. As Eugene neared the massive front doors, he could make out the intricate details of the stained glass windows; each pane was more colorful than the last, depicting the saints in brilliant hues of red and deep blue. The effect was even more dazzling from the inside of the church, where the sunlight filtered through the windows in a myriad of colors, washing over the dark wood floors and pigmenting the high walls.