Mr. Jong who can see divine light

Today at work I helped a man I'd seen only once before.

The first time he came to the desk, he needed help editing and uploading a document on a laptop. The operating system on his computer was set to Korean, so it was a little difficult to help him, especially as he had trouble speaking English himself.

The cast of characters I've met at work contains many standouts, and he was certainly one of them; an elderly Korean man with a kind face and only one tooth on the top row, off-center and unmissable, and a breath smelling nauseatingly of cigarettes. He had an eagerness about him that sometimes made it even harder to understand him as he sped through half-formed phrases and changed topics on a dime.

Nevertheless, together we were able to figure out how to do what he needed done, and after helping him he was very grateful, thanking me multiple times before heading out.

That was maybe four months ago, so I was surprised to see him again today, hustling up the stairs in a frantic state with the same laptop tucked into the crook of his arm. The librarian from downstairs informed me he needed to use a private room to virtually attend a court hearing, and he wasn't needed in the Teams call until 10:30am but he was supposed to enter the call by 9:30. It was about 9:45 at that point, so I quickly booked him our small study room and set him up at the table there.

I opened up the email invite to the call on his laptop and ran into a problem almost immediately; the Teams app was stuck on a loading splash screen. No problem, I figured, we can use the browser-based version instead. So I went back to the email and opened the invite again, this time clicking the other button that presumably in English said something like Open in browser but I couldn't exactly be sure because it was in Korean. Luckily my guess was correct and the liminal little waiting room where you can look at yourself appeared.

Long story short, he was stuck in the waiting room past 10:30, but after a lot of trial and error and closing and re-opening the link from the invite, he was able to get in and see the grainy digital footage of the courtroom. Hooray for living in the future where you don't have to worry about parking near the courthouse.

About half an hour later, he came out of the room looking relieved and told me it went well, then thanked me for all of my help. I expected this to be the end of our interaction like before, but for some reason instead of leaving, he must have seen a look in my eyes that made him feel understood.

This is not an uncommon occurrence for me. Strangers can often sense the "Yes, and ..." in my heart, and practically taste the largesse of my soul. Consciously or not, I will them into unburdening their deepest-held convictions, greatest fears, and so on to me. This usually puts me in a very uncomfortable state indeed, but curiosity prevents me from cutting short the interaction, lest the spell be broken. It is one of my greatest powers after all, and what good's a power if it never gets used?

Somehow, in a dreamlike manner that I can't quite remember, this man pivoted our conversation and confided in me that he can see a divine light.

These lights, he said, gesturing to the fluorescent bulbs overhead, these lights, they have shadow. Divine light— no shadow.

Oh? I gaped.

In Korea, in the mountains, I see divine light for three-hundred yards. Has no shadow.

Yeah? I bleated as I nodded vigorously and tried not to show just how perversely interested I actually was at where this could possibly be going.

To the best of my understanding, this is what I think he tried to convey to me next:

He lives in a three-bedroom apartment where rent used to cost $850 a month. His landlord, some time back, raised his rent to $2000 a month and yet never did any of the maintenance, leaving it up to him and the other tenants. The court hearing he just attended was to testify against his landlord.

These sorts of people are angry, they have a poison in their hearts that's contagious. They would benefit from seeing the divine light like he has. Buddhists, Christians, Muslims all need to see the divine light and realize it's all the same.

Before this wooden bookshelf there was a wooden tree, and before that a seed. And before that seed there was another tree. We are all like this, and the forms we had before influence the person we are now. The poison carries between generations.

He asked me if our library had books by Edgar Cayce, who was a "very smart" Christian spiritual man. He talked about Emmanuel Swedenborg and how Helen Keller wrote an entire biography about his influence on her. He urged me to get these books for the library if we didn't already have them.

He talked about Aristotle and the Greeks. He asked me if I was Italian. I informed him I am not.

He used to own a mini mart on Dewey Ave. While working there, he met a man who needed physical therapy for his arm, and doctors were only able to help the man raise his arm up to his shoulder.

Because he can see the divine light, he was able to help this man raise his arm up all the way over his head, just five minutes after meeting with him.

I asked him if he talks about this with his wife and son who he mentioned earlier; he said they don't listen to him, but they will if he can get his message out and if other people start agreeing with him about it.

I asked if he's written any of this down, like maybe for a book? He told me he had a great teacher that he learned a lot from that wrote a book about this. This teacher died in 1948, but he still remembers him. He has his book and can give it to me.

It's in multiple languages. What language is my first, Italian? I informed him that it is English, as I am not Italian.

The book is about 330 pages long. He said he is going to bring it in to me later. He asked me my name and shook my hand and left.

I did not see him later.