There is a saying in South Korea that goes, “Even if you’re rolling around in a field of dog poop, this world is better”. ‘This world’, or ee seung, pertains to the physical world that we live and breathe in throughout our lives. ‘That world’, or juh seung, refers to the spiritual dimension that our souls are taken to after our deaths -- commonly known as the ‘afterworld’ in American culture. This saying is basically claiming that no matter how ‘shitty’ life gets, life is still better than death.
Many elders, young adults, and even some children of Korean culture fear the juh seung sah jah, a figure equivalent to the Grim Reaper in Korean folktale. Juh seung, again, means the afterworld, and sah jah are two Hanja characters (Hanja is the Korean name for Chinese characters; Korea used to write with Chinese characters before King Sejong created the Korean alphabet) that translates to ‘body that does’. Juh seung sah jah is ultimately interpreted as the ‘body that does the bidding of the afterworld’. There are endless recounts of how the juh seung sah jah had appeared in their dreams to take/guide them to the juh seung, told by people who nearly died.
One such account is told by a man who accompanied his father to a wake. On the night of the wake, he had a dream that his father and his friends were still in the room of the funeral house when two juh seung sah jah’s came into the room and started wrestling, one by one, with the people inside. The two reapers were able to win everyone over except the man’s father. One of them lost to the father and told the other reaper that ‘you can’t win this man’. The other reaper, in spite, wrestled the father and ended up winning and that was when the man woke up from his dream. The next day, his father and his friends, who were on their way to bury the deceased from the wake, got into a car accident. Everyone in the car had died except for the father who ended up as a hemiplegic. It’s stories like this that instills an alertness in the Korean people who are superstitious -- which is the majority. That is probably why the song, titled, “Hundred Year Life” by the singer Lee Aeran is insanely popular in South Korea right now. The lyrics translate to:
At sixty years, if it comes from that world to take me,
tell it that I can’t go because I’m still young.
At seventy years, if it comes from that world to take me,
tell it that I can’t go because I still have things to do.
At eighty years, if it comes from that world to take me,
tell it that I can’t go because this body is still of some use.
At ninety years, if it comes from that world to take me,
tell it that I’ll go when I have to, so don’t rush me.
At hundred years, if it comes from that world to take me,
tell it that I’ll go on a good day, at a good time.
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5DkZ_EsMTGU)
Then there’s a bridge where she sings the unofficial Korean anthem “Arirang”, which was playing during the 2000 Sydney Olympics when North and South Korea marched as one under a unified flag. For the elders of Korea, it’s a meaningful song because it reminds them of the tough periods of foreign invasions and the Korean War. The younger people basically took in the song as a native symbol, but they favor the more modernized and upbeat versions of the song because it obviously doesn’t hold the same significance to them as it did the elders’. I believe it was included in the song to signify that death holds the same meaning for everyone, regardless of generation, status, location, or religion.
My family and I aren’t religious and don’t shy away from the topic of death, but we never really had a discussion on it. We’ve only ever been to three funerals, but that was when I was much younger, so I don’t recall them with clarity. However, I know that we have a wake and funeral and an annual memorial service where we burn incense to attract the spirits of the deceased and offer them food and drinks to keep them sated in the juh seung.
Personally, I don’t fear my death. I mean, I’ll try my best to live until the very last second I have, but I’m not frightened by the whole ‘what comes after death’ quandary. As long as it’s not violent, I’m not living in fear of death and I know that my father has a similar mindset, albeit a weirdly nonchalant attitude towards it, which I came across when he was diagnosed with cancer. My mother, when I asked her as I was writing this reflection, stated that she isn’t really afraid of death yet, but she worries of what will happen to me if she dies.
Although culture is definitely embedded at the core of people’s perceptions of death, it isn’t what ultimately shapes their attitudes towards it. It really matters on the person’s personal situation and experiences. You can be brought up in Buddhist faith and the rewarding nirvana, and still fear death. At any rate, all that humanity knows is that death is inevitable and no one escapes it.
Many elders, young adults, and even some children of Korean culture fear the juh seung sah jah, a figure equivalent to the Grim Reaper in Korean folktale. Juh seung, again, means the afterworld, and sah jah are two Hanja characters (Hanja is the Korean name for Chinese characters; Korea used to write with Chinese characters before King Sejong created the Korean alphabet) that translates to ‘body that does’. Juh seung sah jah is ultimately interpreted as the ‘body that does the bidding of the afterworld’. There are endless recounts of how the juh seung sah jah had appeared in their dreams to take/guide them to the juh seung, told by people who nearly died.
One such account is told by a man who accompanied his father to a wake. On the night of the wake, he had a dream that his father and his friends were still in the room of the funeral house when two juh seung sah jah’s came into the room and started wrestling, one by one, with the people inside. The two reapers were able to win everyone over except the man’s father. One of them lost to the father and told the other reaper that ‘you can’t win this man’. The other reaper, in spite, wrestled the father and ended up winning and that was when the man woke up from his dream. The next day, his father and his friends, who were on their way to bury the deceased from the wake, got into a car accident. Everyone in the car had died except for the father who ended up as a hemiplegic. It’s stories like this that instills an alertness in the Korean people who are superstitious -- which is the majority. That is probably why the song, titled, “Hundred Year Life” by the singer Lee Aeran is insanely popular in South Korea right now. The lyrics translate to:
At sixty years, if it comes from that world to take me,
tell it that I can’t go because I’m still young.
At seventy years, if it comes from that world to take me,
tell it that I can’t go because I still have things to do.
At eighty years, if it comes from that world to take me,
tell it that I can’t go because this body is still of some use.
At ninety years, if it comes from that world to take me,
tell it that I’ll go when I have to, so don’t rush me.
At hundred years, if it comes from that world to take me,
tell it that I’ll go on a good day, at a good time.
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5DkZ_EsMTGU)
Then there’s a bridge where she sings the unofficial Korean anthem “Arirang”, which was playing during the 2000 Sydney Olympics when North and South Korea marched as one under a unified flag. For the elders of Korea, it’s a meaningful song because it reminds them of the tough periods of foreign invasions and the Korean War. The younger people basically took in the song as a native symbol, but they favor the more modernized and upbeat versions of the song because it obviously doesn’t hold the same significance to them as it did the elders’. I believe it was included in the song to signify that death holds the same meaning for everyone, regardless of generation, status, location, or religion.
My family and I aren’t religious and don’t shy away from the topic of death, but we never really had a discussion on it. We’ve only ever been to three funerals, but that was when I was much younger, so I don’t recall them with clarity. However, I know that we have a wake and funeral and an annual memorial service where we burn incense to attract the spirits of the deceased and offer them food and drinks to keep them sated in the juh seung.
Personally, I don’t fear my death. I mean, I’ll try my best to live until the very last second I have, but I’m not frightened by the whole ‘what comes after death’ quandary. As long as it’s not violent, I’m not living in fear of death and I know that my father has a similar mindset, albeit a weirdly nonchalant attitude towards it, which I came across when he was diagnosed with cancer. My mother, when I asked her as I was writing this reflection, stated that she isn’t really afraid of death yet, but she worries of what will happen to me if she dies.
Although culture is definitely embedded at the core of people’s perceptions of death, it isn’t what ultimately shapes their attitudes towards it. It really matters on the person’s personal situation and experiences. You can be brought up in Buddhist faith and the rewarding nirvana, and still fear death. At any rate, all that humanity knows is that death is inevitable and no one escapes it.