Yunho sat in the field once again. It was night, but the sky was filled with stars, the moon, and thousands of tiny shooting stars flying across the galactic sea. It was a marvelous sight to see.

“Welcome back.”

The sudden voice surprised Yunho a bit, but he smiled when he realized who it belonged to.

It was the man. His man. The man he falls in love with in every single dream.

“Thank you,” Yunho replied simply. As usual, he couldn’t exactly see the man, but something about him made Yunho’s heart flip nonstop.

“Come with me,” the man said, offering Yunho a hand, his airy voice soothing the silence. The peasant accepted the hand and a second later, the two were flying. They flew over the forest, over the ocean, above the clouds… They flew in the land of the stars, moon, and sun. Everything was so close, but at the same time, so far.

“Hold on tight,” the beauty whispered as they increased their speed. Yunho nodded and gripped the soft hand just a tad tighter, afraid that if he squeezed too hard, he’d break the delicate hand. They continued to fly above the world, and Yunho couldn’t look away.

Is this what the world looks like from the heavens? he thought warmly.

Not only a second later, however, were the two suddenly falling. Yunho wanted to scream, but his throat wouldn’t make a single sound. So, he shut his eyes tightly.

I’m too young to die…

“Don’t be scared,” the beautiful voice soothed softly, “you’re safe with me.”

Yunho dared to open his eyes slowly, and almost instantly did he hold his breath. The pair were sitting on a bench of stones that were placed right in front of a creek. Just beyond the tall bushes and trees stood a modest yet beautiful Buddhist monastery. The clouds above him seemed just a bit closer, and the ground below him seemed just a bit farther.

“Where are we?” Yunho asked quietly, his curious eyes darting from the monastery to the little creek to the patches of luscious land all around them.

“We, dear Yunho, are at the top of the world. As the world below us is engulfed in war and flames,  we remain up here. “

“Why? Should we not help?”

“We should, but it is too late. The world is too corrupt to do anything anymore. All we can do is watch.”

The man’s voice was soft but possessed a chilling, deeper meaning.

Wars.

Sickness.

Death.

There were so many things wrong with the world that Yunho wished he could just eradicate forever. He wanted the world to be free of all unfortunate events, but he knew it was a greedy, impossible wish.

To see peace, there had to be war.

To see the miracles of health, there had to be a prior sickness.

To appreciate and value life, one has to witness and accept death.

What was Yunho to do, though? He was one man. One poor man who had no influence in the world whatsoever. One unfortunate man who had an impossibly large, selflessly selfish dream.

“Life is suffering,” Yunho said bitterly, “no matter how wonderful or perfect something may seem, someone or something must have suffered to get there. It doesn’t make sense!”

“Life is not suffering,” the man replied sharply. Yunho felt the atmosphere change- the once cheerful and hopeful mood was now tense and serious.

“Like too many others, you have translated the old saying wrong. Life is not suffering; rather, it is the dissatisfaction, stress, and anxiety we experience every day.”

“What’s the difference?” Yunho asked, making sure to carefully word his questions from now on. He was amazed. Thrilled, intrigued, and somewhat frightened by the knowledge his love possessed.

“It’s not about differences, Yunho. Dissatisfaction, stress, and anxiety all contribute to suffering. Likewise, suffering contributes to dissatisfaction, stress, and anxiety. There is no beginning to either side. Instead of focusing on which causes which, we should focus on how to free ourselves from this suffering we experience and move on in our lives.”

Yunho was speechless.

What was there to say after what was just said? This man, whoever he was, was obviously highly intelligent, highly spiritual, and highly realistic. He was neither a pessimist nor an optimist, and he viewed the world in the clearest and truest of ways.

Who was he?

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