Buddhist temples have always had a welcoming atmosphere, even to total strangers. Big or small, they serve as places of solace for locals, providing a serene space detached from their day-to-day lives. As an irreligious temple visitor, I wanted to explore a temple in Gwanak-gu and unveil its hidden qualities. I decided to embark on a short journey to a temple called Gwaneumsa, nestled in Mt. Gwanak. Hoping that this journey would take me away from the stressful mundanities of life, I hopped on the subway at Seoul National Univ. Station.

It took about 10 minutes to reach Sadang. Upon first arrival, the atmosphere was far from tranquil. The streets were dense with buildings and bustling with people, especially the trekkers who were there to hike Mt. Gwanak. Slightly perplexed, I quickly scurried through the streets on my way up to the temple. As I walked along the steep path leading to the mountain, it became harder and harder to keep myself from losing my breath. By the time I reached the base of the mountain, I was left wishing that I had brought a whole bottle of water, not a half-empty one.

Moments later, when I was taking the above picture of the meticulously colored gate of Gwaneumsa, a shuttle bus passed by me, loaded with temple visitors. Turns out, the temple offers shuttle buses every weekday. (You can take the fare-free bus, in front of Unam building near Sadang station, up to the temple. The bus follows a morning schedule that offers rides at 7, 8, 8:30, 9, 9:30, 10, and 10:20.) I was briefly frustrated because all my efforts felt somewhat in vain: I could have taken the easier way, with no sweating whatsoever. However, resuming my way up to the temple, I realized it was worth traveling at a walking pace while gradually absorbing the nature and structures surrounding me. I stumbled upon mini mushroom-shaped stone towers (or possibly lanterns after nightfall) scattered along the path, as well as totem poles of carved stone. It was at this point in my journey that I felt like I was hiding away from one world and entering another.

Finally entering the main temple area, I took a slight detour and approached a small shrine first. Not knowing much about Hanja—the Chinese characters used in Korea—I couldn’t read two out of three characters in the shrine’s name, nor could I comprehend the stories it was telling through the intricate murals on both its inside and outside. What I did notice was that three old ladies perched on the shrine’s floor were looking at me. “The entrance is the door on the side,” one of them said to me. I thanked her and took off my shoes to step in, marveling at the shiny golden statue of Buddha and the magnificent artwork surrounding him. I knelt on one of the cushions and saw a book that contained prayers. Reading “Myungbujeon” written on its cover in Hangul, I finally learned the name of the shrine. The ladies affirmed that the book did contain prayers and exclaimed, “The administrative office gives the books away. You should definitely go and get one!” I thanked them again, amazed by their attentiveness.

Although not a big temple, Gwaneumsa had a lot of buildings with exquisitely crafted dancheong, and some big monuments like a stone tower and a Buddha statue right beside the main shrine. But nothing filled my heart with more pleasure than the charming beauty of a little fountain with a tiny shrine behind it. This very scene epitomized what I had imagined of a picturesque temple: lush vegetation growing out of the nooks and crannies of rocks, a small yet quaint shrine, and water that reflects the scenery. The smiling monk made of rock was the cherry on top.

It was truly astonishing how this temple visit rejuvenated my body and mind, even though I’m not very well-acquainted with the cultural background of Buddhism. The exquisite intricacy of the architecture and the unexpected interaction with the local Buddhists were indeed effective distractions from the pressures of everyday life. The whole process allowed me to briefly “go off-grid,” which is hard to achieve in a world where we’re connected to one another in so many ways. I was able to cut out the external stressors and put my mind at ease, just wandering and contemplating. The whole journey was much like a meditation.

This feeling of refreshment had me wondering what it would be like to habitually visit this hidden gem. I visited the administration office to ask about the shuttle bus schedule, and a group of ladies who work there greeted me and kindly answered my questions. They also gave me a prayer book, which included Sanskrit and Hanja prayers written in Hangul. On my way out, one of them stopped me to give me two packs of freshly baked rice cakes. It was a nice surprise, and I was astounded by how they tried to help me in every possible way. Their words and actions reflected a genuine form of the Buddhist mindset: cherishing every single person and helping those around you. All in all, the peacefulness of Gwaneumsa seems to penetrate the minds of local Buddhists.

In a much greater state than before, I went down the mountain. My initial goal for this journey was just to appreciate the scenery and take my mind off the stressors of life for a while. But there were also unexpected experiences that deepened the meaning of this trip for me. I had the space to reflect on myself in ways that I hadn’t before. I was reminded of the importance of living compassionately, always giving back to the community and helping others. Through interacting with the local Buddhists, I found a reflection of Gwaneumsa in each of them, guiding them to live in peace and harmony. Visiting a temple doesn’t necessarily have to bear a certain religious purpose. Go visit Gwaneumsa when you need to relax or introspect. You might make a valuable discovery within or around yourself.