By John Dawson
The years of his apprenticeship in the holy order had been well worth the trial, with age comes knowledge, wisdom and skill. Few in youth are prepared for ageing. Dasun had worked on a �special piece�, it was a mural, a rather large mural of colourful proportions. It depicted Korea�s early history, the wars, the events, the liberation, all that was part of his cherished land�s past.
Two and a half years later, there hung on the wall of the old monastery a finished piece of such detail, magnitude and skill one could not glance at it without staring, seeing other aspects in its finite detail a unique style. Many had praised and thanked the monk for his fine work.
One week after its long and hard completion, a young, innocent child stood in front of it and looked at it in some detail. Whilst Dasun Cho swept the autumn leaves in his court yard he observed this child, who appeared to be no more than seven or eight years of age. He must have been staring closely at the mural for maybe 10-15 minutes, then the child slowly shook his head from side to side and began to walk away. Dasun questioned the small boy before he disappeared.
�Tell me, young man, is there something that displeases you about my painting?�
The young dark haired boy replied after a short pause. �Sir, your work is wonderful, the colour, the people, the places. I just know it to be so life like. It�s very good, but�� the boy stopped.
�Continue,� Dasun Cho told him.
�Well, the great worrier Taman Sung is wrong on the painting�.
�Wrong?� Dasun questioned.
�You have Taman Sung holding a sword in his left hand, that could not be, venerable monk�.
�Oh, how is that, son?� Dasun asked.
�Well, sir, the great Taman Sung lost 3 fingers of his left hand as a small boy, in a accident. He was training with the sword and was caught unaware. The accident caused him the loss of these fingers. The painting does look like him, sir��
Dasun Cho interrupted in a quiet tone, �How know you of this, son? You are so young in years.�
The small Korean boy replied, �Tamun Sung was my father, sir, I am all that is left of his life. I live with my mother in Kien village about 50 kilometres away. I heard that you had done this great mural and wondered if my late father was part of it. I have nothing of him, it is like he never existed, but this has given me more hope. Your art is good, your skill as an artist widely known. I thank you for this memory.�
Dasun Cho looked closely at the boy�s face and tears filled the old monk�s eyes, and trickled down old wrinkled cheeks, like rain in a barren climate. Dasun Cho asked, �Have you eaten, son?� The boy shook his head. The old monk took him to be fed. �What is your name?� Dasun questioned.
The boy replied �Kim Sung, sir�.
�You are certainly wise for your age young Kim Sung, eat up your bread and soup and go back to your mother. I will send you back to your house with two of the younger holy men, for your safety. I only ask one thing of you,� Dasun paused,
�What is it, sir?� the boy asked.
�That is please come back to the monastery as a man�. Kim Sung cordially agreed and they both parted from each other�s company.
Dasun Cho had an audience with the head monk of the monastery to let him totally repaint the whole mural again. The head monk at first questioned Cho�s sanity. Dasun Cho implored that he be allowed to re-do the beautiful painting. The argument put to the Holy Father was a small boy�s disappointment. The Holy Father questioned why Dasun Cho couldn�t repaint just the section with error in it. Dasun Cho�s final observation was, �Father, how can I slave so hard at my work, so close to my heart knowing it was wrong? I would rather repaint the whole of my work, understanding now that the elements and the proportion were incorrect. If I were just to repaint the error, that would not complete the picture. I would know it was wrong. We all in life should appreciate and know this much. We should care, be focused at all times to even the most simplistic detail. I know now I feel different, human compassion over rides me, I understand more now about how the whole painting should be finished. I depicted the faces, events, not the emotions, feelings, not the real mood of those times. I want to recapture the whole feel of life and trial of that time.�
The Holy Father cordially agreed. It took Dasun Cho eight and a half years to repaint the mural. A week after completion, the tired, wise old monk died. The seasons changed as life goes on.
The following year a young man appeared outside the monastery. His name? Well his name was Kim Sung, the boy was now a man, he had not forgotten the old monk�s request. There he stood and gazed in amazement at the old monk�s work. The illustrations were almost alive, they had many emotions, fear, anger, elation, peace and love. The young man Sung saw the picture of his father and smiled with pride. The detail was perfect, then slowly after gazing at almost every inch of the mural he stared at the bottom of the picture and low and behold, there, was a well painted illustration of Dasun Cho sweeping the courtyard, and a small Korean boy looking up at the mural.
Kim smiled to himself and glowed inside knowing of the old man�s recent sad demise. Tears of happiness and sadness lifted his heart. Dasun Cho lived on, in his work and in the heart of all those he touched.