Seokkuram (석굴암) Grotto

I used to be quite a happy person, especially as a child. I developed a reputation for wearing a shit-eating grin everywhere I went, always whistling cheerfully. In my recent adulthood, I was not perceived that same way, and rightfully so. Happy was not on my list of key descriptors, and I had forgotten that is ever was.

I have remembered that now. People have started asking, "Why are you always so happy?" the way they once did. I whistle in the hallways. I sing in the shower. Every day, I exaggerate not, I am visited by the thought, "This is the most beautiful moment there has ever been, and tomorrow there will be even another."

So it is without hyperbole or surprise that I tell you, yesterday's visit to the Seokkuram Grotto was the most beautiful moment there has ever been (hereafter MBMTHEB). This picture was not taken by me, but it is better than the one I took:
The first MBMTHEB I had on the trip struck on the path to the grotto. The fog hung low on the bamboo, and the city of Kyeongju was completely obscured. It was as though we walked from the parking lot into a Korean Brigadoon, an ancient Silla stronghold that reappeared every hundred years, accessible only through this foggy portal. Ascending the mountain, looking down into the ridges brimming with dense, creamy fog, I was transported inwardly into a tearful state of bliss. Had there ever in history been something so lovely, so celestial? It was as though we were at the edge of a painting, with only blank canvas in front of us, waiting for Bob Ross to come back and paint in the rest of the trees.

But, as has been the case with every moment since arriving in Korea, this was promptly outshined by the interior of the grotto itself. Even taken from a purely artistic standpoint, the lines of this manmade cave are sublime. The statue itself is only one element in an artistically unified structure. One could discourse for hours upon the many symmetries of the grotto, the engineering feat that it represents, but the experience transcends explanation.

Exiting the grotto, there is a little stall where one can purchase a broad, curved roofing tile. On it one can write a prayer (or in the case of one boorish coworker "Mox Wuz Here!!!), and it will then be used to reroof a temple. I subscribed to this sentiment, and here is a picture of my prayer:It was then that I had my second MBMTHEB of the day. This one had no particular words or ideas attached to it, but I retired to a hidden corner and wept while I heard in the background people searching for me, wanting to take a group picture. I stayed hidden, for this was a solitary time.

The third MBMTHEB happened on the path back, leaving Brigadoon, planning to return with my family in a few months. An old broad of whom I have grown quite fond, walked with me, and we talked about how happy we are here. I related to her my experience of transcendence, and it returned, as though its ears were burning, and it wanted to hear what was being said about it. The very mention of the MBMTHEB precipitated a metamoment, a moment about moments. Has there ever been anything so beautiful?

This reverie has been brought to you courtesy of Korean National Treasure #24.