In the village where I was born, filial piety was a supreme virtue, ancestral worship was a way of life, and obedience to elders was absolute and unquestioned. To rebel against the word of an elder was to invite social censure of enormous magnitude upon your family... and women, who were at the very bottom of the hierarchy, existed only to serve men and give birth to men. Their voices were supposed to be soft; their eyes downcast; their spirits submissive. Their role was not to think, but merely to obey. To disobey a male relative -- especially an older one -- was unthinkable.

     In such an ordered world, my mother was the personification of chaos: she rejected the village's widespread religion of Confucianism and announced she had converted to Buddhism, she disobeyed her parents and refused to take part in an arranged marriage. She was a free spirit, and later told me that in her entire life, she had never done anything for which she was ashamed of. I grew up believing that everything that happened simply was the way it was supposed to be, for good or ill. To rail against fate was senseless; the only thing to do was accept what one was given in life.

     In her own gentle way, my mother was a rebel. Enraging the village elders and shocking the women with her rebellious ways and heretical ideas was an everyday occurrence. Her family reminded her again and again of her duties as a daughter, and threatened her with complete estrangement if she should ever bring dishonor upon them. The threat was made daily, but my mother shrugged her graceful shoulders and continued to work in the rice paddies... Until one day...

     A passing caravan of merchants happened to come upon our village, and their leader -- an older man with "a beard of pine needles," as my mother called it -- immediately became ensnared by my mother's beauty. She resisted his advances... Until, of course, she was beaten, gagged, bound, then raped and left to die in the back of an old, abandoned storehouse at the edge of town.

     Her parents did not believe her story, nor would they hear her pleas. Even though she had bruises and wounds to aid in her defense, my mother was dubbed a treacherous harlot and thusly exiled from the village. She retreated to the very same storehouse where the crime had occurred, and nine months later gave birth to me; her greatest mistake, her Jiangnu...

     As I grew older, I suspected my mother would harbor angry feelings toward me, but this was not so. She treated me with the utmost kindness, filling my otherwise lonely life with love and acceptance -- she was my reason, and I was her reason; we existed solely for each other, and in this I found meaning in my life. Many a night passed where my mother told me stories; great epics of heroes from all walks of life and from strange, exotic lands. She taught me how to read and write, why I should appreciate the beauty of nature and music...

     Raising a daughter alone proved itself a tremendous obstacle to overcome, but somehow she managed. I was not ignorant to where we stood in life, but my mother allowed a certain degree of naivety to remain with me. Blissfully unaware of the despicable gazes and rude comments directed toward us as we walked down the street, I grew up believing in a world where smiles righted all wrongs and words of kindness far outweighed any sum of gold. I grew up believing in poetry and music. I grew up believing in happiness...

     Several years passed, and I was quickly blossoming into adulthood. My mother made plans for us to travel east and find a new home in one of the larger cities, but when my grandparents caught wind of our journey, they strictly prohibited such. We were to stay out of sight until Death claimed us for His own, and if we should leave the village before then, we would be hunted down. Regardless of their threats, my mother paid off a local farmer to stow us in his cart as he made his yearly trip to Kugnae. Surely we would find peace and safety there, away from the hostile villagers and the bitter resentment of our family members...

     On the night we were supposed to leave, a sudden knock on our door brought our packing to an abrupt halt. My mother instructed me to hide behind our bed and to come out only when it was completely silent. I did as told, and hid under a plethora of pillows and blankets as my mother greeted our unexpected guests... I recognized their voices; my uncle, who sounded quite distraught, and my grandfather, a recently appointed elder within the village. My mother demanded to know what they wanted, but before she could even finish her sentence, I heard the sound of a blade leaving its sheath.

     There was a scream, then the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. The katana found its way back into its saya with a muffled, shrill cry, and two sets of footsteps aptly strolled outside. Their voices were low and speak of an honorable deed, but once the stagnant stench of blood came to my nostrils, I knew...

     I knew she was dead.

     I moved out from underneath my nest of blankets to find my mother's body sprawled out on the floor. Ruby liquid poured incessantly from a massive gash across the entirety of her front, and as I looked more closely, I noticed her chest still heaved with breathing. I ran over to her, tears blurring my vision... but as I reached out to hug her, she sputtered for me not to come any closer. My ride to freedom was coming, she said. Run, and escape while you can. Wo ai ni...

     The ride to Kugnae was long, and after so many sleepless nights of sadness and dread, I lost count of the passing moons. What little joy I had left in me slipped away as I strayed farther and farther into the unknown lands of Korea, and tears were my only companion in the back of that old, rickety cart. The Land of Morning Calm had suddenly become the Land of Sorrowful Night...

     One thing kept me alive during those restless nights; the twinkling of stars overhead filled me with peace. I found solace in their gemlike appearance, and I was reminded of my mother's beautiful eyes each time I looked up into the sky. Those same stars brought me home to Kugnae, and I hope they further guide me into the path of righteousness. My mother would have wanted me to live the life of a Monk, and I now believe I am ready for such...

     I do this for myself, but above all, for those who are as lost as I was then. I seek to find peace within myself, and to spread such a peace to all within the three great kingdoms...

     Regards,
          Jiangnu