여유 - The Space Between Us
We understand the physical concept of ‘space’ in many different ways.
I am not talking about the otherworldly, boundless great unknown beyond our atmosphere. I mean the space between you and me. The space propped up by your wheels so the bottom of your car doesn’t scrape against the road as you drive. The space that makes your personal bubble and mine. Sometimes, that space is just a bit too small for your liking. Sometimes, you feel like you don’t have enough space to stretch your legs.
I see you, Economy class.
Actually, the airplane is a great place to begin expanding our idea of ‘space.’ When you are in a cramped seat making that long journey from the US to Korea for hours upon hours, the frustration can grow. All you want to do is stand and stretch, and physically being unable to can also be mentally cramping. Your body wants to sprawl out freely and so, correspondingly, does your mind.
The connection between physical and mental (i.e emotional, spiritual, intangible things that make up our human experience) is undeniable. And what infringes on my physical space can also encroach on my mental space. It’s so innate it’s often difficult to distinguish the two. The freedom to move, the space to expand, the cushion that I can lean into knowing it provides a protective barrier can be viewed both literally and figuratively.
Now, on this understanding of ‘space,’ I introduce the Korean word ‘여유’. Pronounced phonetically, ‘yeoyoo’, it is heard ALL THE TIME. It’s such a commonly used word you could find a way to use it in every single conversation you have. It can mean all of these things:
“to be relaxed”
“to have freedom to do something”
“to have the space to do something”
“to be freed up”
“to be able to afford to do something”
“to have margin/space to spare”
and in a negative sense, it can therefore mean “to be unable to afford to do, to lack the freedom, to have no breathing room, to be tied up, to have no margin for, to be hard pressed”… all meanings that can be physically as well as mentally true.
If you haven’t experienced what it means to have no ‘yeoyoo’ in the physical sense you might have difficulty understanding ‘yeoyoo’ in the mental sense.
We live in tight spaces. We cram ourselves into subway cars and squash ourselves in to make that final train no matter what, because the consequences of missing it could be unbearable. We bump into each other on the street because we don’t have the space to step aside. We are always aware of everyone else. Our personal space does not exist. I cannot push you away from me.
Physically, we live without this ‘yeoyoo'.’
This leads to no ‘yeoyoo’ in our mental and emotional lives as well, doesn’t it? How many times I have seen a Korean elder snap angrily over the smallest thing. How many times have I judged them. But living in Korea, I feel this lack of ‘yeoyoo’ in my own life on the regular basis. And when you are squeezed in too tightly, you begin to believe there is no escape, there is no breathing room. That makes you angry. Just give me my goddamn space.
The competition to survive is incredibly crushing. I see it in the tests, the required degrees, the expectations to prove your worthiness by slaving away long hours at the whims of those above you. I see it in the older men who drink together late at night, their self-destructive escape from the pressures of work and family. I see it in the students who don’t know what it means to have a dream because they have no time to think outside of their studying. Their minds are granted no time to think beyond what is placed in front of them. Nobody else is going to give you any space. There is just no ‘yeoyoo’ for that.
There has been no margin for error in Korea’s history. To survive and to maintain Korean culture the way this country has has required incredible sacrifice, from the overall societal duties down to the individual man. I often wonder if this ‘Korean temper’ is not so much an innate thing to our blood as we might joke, but the fallout from hundreds of years of desperately clutching all that we have; and when we feel like somebody is trying to take that too, we lash out.
There is a heavy toll paid when a society must eke out a living. Being physically wedged in among a great mass of people forces you to move whichever way they move. So how it feels when you mentally have no ‘yeoyoo.’ You will go where the masses tell you. Thus Korea’s distinct lack of entrepreneurs, creative thinkers, artists and filmmakers. Oh, they certainly exist but it isn’t without great struggle and mental power. We are not fighting just physical lack of ‘yeoyoo’ but also cultural lack as well.
Do you know how good it feels to raise your arms up and know there’s room to breathe and move?
What a blessing it is to mentally have space to wonder why somebody treated me the way they did; to have ‘yeoyoo’ to consider someone else besides just myself. To be able to take a step back from a situation and ask, do I really want to do this? To know you have a cushion should you make a mistake.
Having ‘yeoyoo’ in our lives is a gift. A quiet, intangible force that allows us to choose what we want to choose and think what we want to think. It’s something you may not recognize until you’ve lived a life without it. And if you have it, I hope you will grant some ‘yeoyoo’ to those around you. Give them space, even in just your own interactions. Take a step back when they cannot. Allow them to breathe, to stretch their limbs, their minds, their possibilities.
This space between us is a powerful thing.