Monday, April 27, 2026

Living Life Fully

An English and Literature professor at a University in Seoul writes in the Catholic Times on living life fully.

She likes the rain and the bright sunshine too, but when it rains—especially late at night when she hears the sound of rain—her heart races so much that she can't fall asleep. Today, in the middle of the day, as a gentle spring rain fell, she was taking a pleasant walk after finishing work, thinking about how much greener the world would become once the rain stopped. People are taking pictures in the square, next to flowering trees. At this very moment, they look as though they have forgotten all their worries: war, employment, office paperwork, and sick family members.

As she stepped out after having tea with a friend, the wind grew rougher. The raindrops grew heavier, and the gentle spring rain turned fierce like a summer storm. People who had been walking leisurely now buttoned up their coats and quickened their pace. Her heart sank, thinking, "At this rate, all those flowers will fall." Petals were already dotting the wet pavement. As she lamented how wasteful and regrettable it was, a thought suddenly struck her: those flowers had already fulfilled their purpose. Simply existing fully in this moment and shining brightly into this world for these past few days was enough. Cherry blossoms in their own way, magnolias in theirs—they had so beautifully demonstrated the natural order of life as it blooms and fades. To live this moment fully. An afternoon when she was no longer sad, watching the flower's grave after fully displaying the initial heart of faith that does not fear loss in advance. A flowering tree that taught her the meaning of simply blooming here and now, without the human folly of clinging to the past or worrying about the future yet to come. 

As she returned home, reflecting on yesterday when her mind was so busy she couldn't even focus on the conversation with the person she was facing—telling herself to focus on the present moment and not to hoard worries—a friend sent her a message from afar. “Even in this rain, the petals on the tree remain intact. Aren't they composed? It seems like the delicate petals are overcoming the strong wind and rain. Cheer up.” On days when her heart wanders aimlessly and feels anxious, she looks into small and fragile things. “So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today's trouble is enough for today.” (Matthew 6:34). When this world feels too precarious, she gives her heart to soft things. A child’s laughter, a ray of transparent sunlight, the faint sound of a bird in a quiet moment, a soft light green hue, the sound of raindrops, a card received. 
To live fully in this moment is to lean on stillness instead of boisterous commotion. To trust in simplicity instead of complex calculations. To wrap up a weary day with gratitude rather than releasing it with anger. As you take a step forward, leaning on the fullness of this moment, things that seem impossible suddenly come within reach. For hope is faith itself. That is why she believes that the wars waged by those who love power and revel in intimidation and oppression will soon be defeated by the prayers for life and peace that embrace the small and vulnerable. It seemed as though God, who always makes things new, was speaking just that to her amidst today's spring rain.

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