eBlog by: Cielamouroux

Many of the best Korean dramas have a fable-like quality to them: in such dramas, the story resonates with the feeling of a deeper meaningfulness ("Sorry, I Love You" may serve as an example). If the drama has been written well, this deeper meaning has to do with a basic dimension of human life.

The writer of "Women of the Sun," Kim In-young, seems to be one of the better writers of dramas. In 2000, she wrote "Jinshil," (Truth or Honesty), a story about how hard it can be to be honest and truthful, especially when it requires one to let go of one's pride and position.

In "Women of the Sun," Kim In-young has written a fable about forgiveness: forgiveness is clearly the central theme of the drama, as can be seen, for example, in the final scene, when the sisters, reconciled at last, see the sun rise on the beach.
Forgiving someone is not easy, of course. The poet William Blake said, more or less, "The only means to forgiveness of enemies is to distinguish that person from the conditions or states that he or she is passing through" (Jerusalem, plate 49). This is of course why Jesus said "Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do," and why in Buddhism Compassion can only flourish when one has cultivated mindfulness of conditioned states and mental formations. When you are able to sustain this mindfulness in separating the other person from the state he was in when he injured you, only then can you begin to separate your own 'self' from your own condition of wounded pride and vengefulness.

Anyone who has experienced the complexities of being a step-parent, step-sibling, or step-child will understand why, in the story, it is so difficult for the step-sister Sa-wol and the step-mother to forgive Do-young for abandoning Sa-wol (or Ji-young) when they were only about twelve and five years old respectively. Any viewer might ask, "why can't they see that Do-young was only an insecure, love-starved child when she abandoned Ji-young (Sa-wol)?" Sa-wol and the mother make it clear that they do see very well that Do-young was an insecure twelve-year old, but they don't forgive her because they make an all-too-common mistake of not separating the person from the condition that she was in, when they say to Do-young, "you were a very intelligent 12-year old and you cannot put the blame for what you did on the feelings that you were having when you did it." They fail to see that it was precisely the feelings (the emotions or, in Buddhist terms, the volitional states or mental formations) that were the motive force that initiated the action. Gradually, in the drama's final episodes, Ji-young (Sa-wol) begins to see this, precisely when she begins to carry out her revenge on Do-young and in doing so discovers that her revenge does not bring her any peace or satisfaction but only sickening regret, and as she sees the karmic force of her own feelings, she begins to understand, symapathize with, and forgive Do-young.

What is perhaps most impressive about Kim In-young's writing is that she has in this drama explored both sides of forgiveness very penetratingly. Few people seem to appreciate the truth of the poet W.H. Auden's words (in an essay on Kierkegaard) that it is often more difficult to be forgiven than it is to forgive. Why is it hard for Do-young to be forgiven? Because she, like almost everyone, fails to distinguish herself from the state or condition that she is in: to ask for forgiveness would require her to admit what "she" did and to humbly let go of her position in the world. She feels that letting go of her position would be to let go of life itself, so, for most of the drama, she is in a state of great anguish: she wants to be free of the burden of secrecy, guilt, and lying, but she is mortally afraid of losing her position and her pride. (Kim Ji-soo does a fine job of conveying this anguished ambivalence.) Do-young discovers, when Sa-wol's acts of vengeance bring an end to her pride and position, that her pride and position are in fact not her life at all: once she is separated from them she finds peace and truly wants to live, as she says so poignantly at the very end, just as the Sun of Forgiveness is rising.

Do-young, by being more or less forced by Ji-young's revenge to give up her pride and position, discovers that they do not constitute her being, and she is at peace in her new-found humility; at the same time, by experiencing the sickening emptiness of revenge, Ji-young (or Sa-wol), becomes able to see the state or condition that has driven Do-young, and she is able to forgive her.

We should all thank Kim In-young for giving us this artistic portrayal of what is perhaps the most important lesson in life.