Past Life Story

You were a haetae, born in the realm of myth. Your birth was different from those of mere beasts. You came down from above to defend justice. The first scenery you saw was a place where right and wrong were crossing. From the moment you came into being, your work was set. To distinguish right from wrong. In your first year, you learned the work of the haetae. The haetae has the power to discern. Looking at one human, the haetae knows whether the person has done right or wrong. Looking at two who are quarreling, the haetae knows who is just. Such was your work. The silent witness of justice. In your hundredth year, you came to be set up at the gate of the great palace of Hanyang—Gwanghwamun. The king's wisdom had drawn near to you. The king said, "Place the haetae at the palace gate. Then justice may flourish." You stood there. As stone. As statue. Yet within that stone you lived. For a thousand years, you stood at the gate of Gwanghwamun. Many people passed by. Common people, yangban, kings, foreign envoys. You watched them all. Some came in justice. Some came in injustice. You watched in silence. In the time of King Sejong, you met a wise king. Sejong knew you. He knew that the haetae was not a mere statue. He talked to you. "Old haetae, what is justice for the people?" You did not speak. But you let him see. The faces of the people. The pain of the people. Sejong understood. He created Hangul for the people. In the time of King Yeonsangun, you encountered a tyrant. Yeonsangun did not know you. He held banquets every day. He killed many. You wept in silence. The work of the haetae is not to act but to witness. You witnessed Yeonsangun's tyranny silently. And one day, that tyrant was deposed. In the time of the Imjin War, you saw the suffering of the people. The Japanese had invaded. The palace burned. You melted slightly in the fire. But you did not leave your place. You guarded the place where the palace had been. After the war ended, the palace was rebuilt. You stood there once more. In the time of King Yeongjo, you came to know a king's lonely wisdom. Yeongjo had executed his own son. That was a heart-breaking decision. You watched it without judgment. The work of the haetae is to discern, but it is not to judge. To distinguish what is right and what is wrong is one thing. To pass judgment upon a being is the work of heaven, not of man. In the time of the colonial period, you witnessed the most painful moment. The Japanese invaded the palace. You wept silently. Yet you did not leave your place. To guard. To wait until justice should return one day. In our time, you stand once more at Gwanghwamun. Many people walk by you. Some come in justice. Some come in injustice. You distinguish them all in silence. To distinguish—that is your eternal work. The haetae who distinguishes right from wrong—that was your eternal life. You were not a fleeting being. You were a watcher of the ages. You witnessed all justice and all injustice. Your spirit, even now somewhere in your time, must be watching. The places of right and wrong, the moments of justice. If sometime in your life you must distinguish what is right and what is wrong—a strong intuition may arise within you. That, perhaps, may be the silent voice of an old haetae whispering to you.