“In-Yun.”
A Korean proverb that is generally translated to the word providence. But more specifically, it refers to past lives.
A longing glance. A brush of clothes while walking past each other. A laugh shared between companions.
A web of interconnected stories through time, ever-ubiquitous in everyone’s lives. Each person in the world meant something to one another in a past life.
Lovers. Friends. Coworkers.
Eventually, we die, and the knowledge fades. But yet, in-yun keeps us forever attached to each other.
In the stellar film Past Lives, as Nora walks back to her apartment at the end, her shoulders begin to shake uncontrollably. She falls into the arms of her lover because she has lost someone she had a past life with.
At that moment, my life choices flashed before my reddened eyes as silent, salty tears fell quickly into my lap. A theater chair had never felt so confined before. In my mind, I twisted, screamed, and sobbed until I remembered the two simplistic lines Hae Sung had uttered.
“What if this is a past life as well, and we are already something else to each other in our next life? Who do you think we are then?”
Maybe, in the next life, you’ll see me for who I am. Maybe, in the next life, you won’t let go so quickly. Maybe, in the next life, you won’t hate who I’ve become. Maybe, just maybe, we could be friends despite it all.
But in this life, it wasn’t meant to be.
Even so, I’m grateful for the time we had. I remember what it was like for those couple of years and what it was like to be young and carefree. I know I will forever cherish those memories in my heart. These fragments of you are engulfed deep in me, glass shards that are bound to wound me every time I make my hot chocolate the way you did or each time I read out your favorite word on accident. I can only hope a sliver of me is kept in you, too.
I think about this a lot. Sometimes, when lying down in the emerald grass, I look up at the sky and think about what you would’ve said at that moment—or the words you would’ve left unsaid, hanging in the ephemeral balance. When I’m in a crowded, larger-than-life arena with thousands of people screaming their hearts out, I think about how happy I am and how happy you would’ve been if you were there, too.
Occasionally, I randomly look around in class surrounded by some of my favorite people, and I know that this is what I am here for. I am here to cry and drink matcha lattes, laugh with my friends, frolic in the wildflowers, gaze at the sunset, learn, smile, and hug others. I’m always going to love you, but it’s time to let go.
I’ll stop dwelling on what could have been, and instead, I’ll accept what is.
Because maybe we’ll meet again in another life, adding another layer of in-yun to our past lives.
