The month of the rising water
A man cautiously pushes open the wooden gates, crosses the yard scattered with red leaves and carefully places their shoes on the large stone in front of the wooden patio. Climbing up with bare feet, he enters. The wind-bell tinkles as he slides the door open.
The room is full of scents, of old paper and incense and autumn and green tea. The air is cold, but the floor is warm. An old man with a wispy white beard looks up over his glasses at the nervous-looking man standing in front of him. He motions to the floor-cushion opposite him, embroidered with flowers and clouds and cranes.
“Please take a seat.”
An hour later, after questions and answers, about birthdays and family and hometowns, the man leaves. He is smiling. The wind-bell tinkles once more and the gate opens, then closes.
****
“Tell me my first-birthday-present story, pleeeease…” She would beg, whenever they went to Grandfather’s house in the woods, the swooping wooden house with the yard with stepping-stones and the hanji-lined doors, and the mysterious rooms full of ancient smells. When she did, Grandfather would chuckle and twist the wisp of grey on his chin. “Come over then, and listen carefully.”
“You were born in the spring, in the month of the rising water, two days till the full moon. It was in the middle of Seoul, one of the most propitious spots in the country. Your great-grandfather, my father, had given your mother her name, and when I studied your father’s, it was clear that he had been given a carefully-thought one, too, so I knew that I didn’t have a terribly hard job ahead of me. Mind you, that was lucky, for it is terribly hard to do a good job when the parents have an ill-fortuned name.
“I was still nervous, though, for I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted to give you the perfect birth-gift. Or first-birthday-present, as you call it. So I spent days and days in the study, searching for the perfect character, with the perfect meaning, with the perfect number of strokes, which would go in perfect harmony with your mother’s and father’s names.
“You see, my child, a name is like a shadow; it follows you throughout your life and acts as a fortune. The words we speak carry an energy called qi, and when your name is called, you receive that energy, that qi. A good name carries a good qi, and will lead you through a good life. But if you receive a bad name, one given without careful consideration of the many factors, it will bring a bad qi every time your name is called, and bad fortune will follow you.
“So I thought and thought, and searched through books full of hundreds of thousands of characters, and that is how your name was created. The first character of your name, Jae, which means clear, has the qi of steel, and is harmonious with the earth qi of the second character, In, which means merciful. Together with your family name, Seol, also with the qi of steel, your name allows that the good qi may flow smoothly through your name and your fortune, whenever your name is called, whenever those characters are spoken.
“That was your first-birthday-present, my child. Jae-In. Your name, your shadow, your fortune, that I gave you when you were born, in the month of the rising water.”
****
Through the hanji windows, the old man watches the man leave, looks at the closed gates. He smiles, too, for he knows that feeling. In his heart, he prays that the man may safely deliver the gift to the life it was chosen for. ‘It is a good name,’ he murmurs. ‘It carries a good qi.’