The ShinsungHwa of Independence Fighter Manhae Han Yong-un: A Spiritual Portrait (2019)
Brief Explanation of Manhae Han Yong-un’s ShinsungHwa
At the very top center of this ShinsungHwa, the spiritual core reveals a Symbol of the light. This golden symbol radiates outward, pulsing with energy. Below, another energy center at the navel area also emanates power.
The navel holds dual significance here—while it represents a chakra point, it also symbolizes our ancestral connections, the lineage that flows through our bloodline. Throughout the composition, energy streams from the hands—representing natural talents and abilities—weave through spiritual dimensions, creating an interconnected network of force and meaning.
Manhae Han Yong-un: The Monk Who Refused to Bow
In 1933, during Japanese colonial rule, Han Yong-un built his house in Seoul with an unusual feature—it faced away from the Japanese Government-General building. Han Yong-un, who wrote poetry under the pen name Manhae (meaning “Ten Thousand Seas”), used his home’s design as a form of quiet resistance. Rather than a grand political gesture, it was his personal way of turning his back on colonial authority.
A Rebel’s Beginning
Born on August 29, 1879, in a small village in South Chungcheong Province, Han Yong-un started life as Han Yu-cheon. His childhood unfolded in traditional Korean schools called seodang, where children learned Chinese classics by candlelight. But young Han’s heart burned for something bigger than textbooks.
At fifteen, he joined the famous Tonghak Revolt of 1894—a grassroots movement fighting for social reform. When the rebellion failed, most fighters scattered to the winds. Han chose a different path. He climbed Mount Solok and disappeared into its misty peaks, beginning a spiritual journey that would reshape Korean Buddhism forever.
From “Inverse Proportion”:
“Is your voice ‘silence’? When you are not singing a song then I hear your song’s melody clearly! Your voice is silence. Is your face ‘darkness’? When I shut my eyes then I see your face clearly! Your face is darkness. Is your shadow ‘light’? Your shadow is cast on the dark window after the moon has gone down! Your shadow is light.”
_Han Yong-un
Finding His True Calling
In 1905, the same year Korea fell under Japanese control, Han received his Buddhist robes at Baekdam Temple. His meditation instructor gave him a new name: Yong-un, meaning “Dragon Cloud”. Later, he would adopt the artistic name Manhae, reflecting his vast spiritual aspirations.
Unlike many monks who retreated from worldly concerns, Han dove deeper into them. He studied not just Buddhist texts but modern philosophy, absorbing ideas that would spark his revolutionary thinking. His Buddhism wasn’t about escaping life—it was about transforming it.
From “Sleep Talk”:
“Love is free, virtue is fluid, marriage is a thicket of rites.”
_Han Yong-un
The Voice of Independence
March 1, 1919, changed everything. On this historic day, thirty-three brave Koreans signed the Declaration of Independence, openly defying Japanese rule. Han Yong-un wasn’t just among them—he helped write it.
The Japanese authorities weren’t amused. They arrested Han and threw him into Seodaemun Prison for three long years. But even behind bars, his spirit remained unbroken. When a prosecutor asked if he would continue fighting for independence, Han’s response was crystal clear: “Yes, I will continue to do so no matter what. Independence will definitely be achieved”.
During his imprisonment, he wrote a powerful essay called “Overview of Thoughts on Korean Independence,” outlining why Korea deserved freedom. This wasn’t just political writing—it was moral philosophy wrapped in the language of justice.
From “Pledging Love at the Shrine of Non’gae”:
“My laughter brims over and becomes tears; my tears overflow and become laughter.”
_Han Yong-un
The Poetry of Longing
After his release in 1922, Han channeled his passion into poetry. His masterpiece, “The Silence of My Love” (Nim-ui Chimmuk), appeared in 1926 and became an instant classic. But this wasn’t ordinary love poetry.
The word “Nim” in Korean means “beloved” or “dear one,” but Han used it cleverly. Sometimes Nim meant Buddha, sometimes it meant his homeland, and sometimes it meant a romantic lover. This brilliant ambiguity allowed him to express forbidden political feelings through the safe language of spiritual and romantic longing.
Take his poem “The Ferryboat and the Traveler,” where he writes: “I am a ferryboat, and you a traveler”. On the surface, it’s about patient love. Dig deeper, and you’ll find a Buddhist teaching about compassion. Look closer still, and you’ll see a metaphor for serving one’s country, no matter the cost.
From “False Separation”:
“I only know one day this false separation will end.”
_Han Yong-un
Reforming Ancient Traditions
Han didn’t just write pretty poems—he shook Buddhism to its core. In 1913, he published “The Restoration of Korean Buddhism,” a thunderbolt that split the religious establishment. He argued that Korean Buddhism had become too isolated, too stuck in old ways to help modern people.
His reforms were radical for their time. He wanted Buddhist monks to marry, to work productive jobs, and to engage with society rather than hide in mountain temples. He believed Buddhism should be about equality and freedom—ideas that naturally supported Korean independence.
A House That Tells Stories
In 1933, Han built his famous house, Simujang, whose name means “seeking the ox”—a Buddhist metaphor for finding one’s true nature. The house faced north, symbolically turning its back on Japanese authority. Every morning, Han could wake up knowing he wasn’t bowing to his oppressors, even in the direction of his front door.
This wasn’t just architectural rebellion—it was lived poetry. Han understood that sometimes the most powerful protests happen in daily choices, in the quiet ways we arrange our lives.
Legacy of the Unbroken Spirit
Han Yong-un died in his beloved Simujang on June 29, 1944, just one year before Korea’s liberation. He never lived to see his dream of independence fulfilled, yet his influence outlasted the empire he opposed.
Today, Korean children still read his poems in school. Buddhist temples across Korea follow reforms he pioneered. His house has become a museum where visitors can touch the desk where he wrote verses that changed a nation’s heart.
From “If It’s a Dream”:
“I’ll attain immortality in the dream of love.”
_Han Yong-un
The Eternal Ferryman
What made Han Yong-un extraordinary wasn’t just his courage—it was his ability to weave together seemingly opposite things. He was a monk who married, a Buddhist who fought wars, a traditionalist who demanded change. Like the ferryboat in his famous poem, he carried others across turbulent waters, never asking for thanks, always ready to serve.
In 2007, the Korean Poets’ Association named him one of the ten most important modern Korean poets. But perhaps his greatest achievement was showing that spiritual practice and social action aren’t opposites—they’re dance partners, each making the other stronger.
Han Yong-un proved that you can honor the past while building the future, that you can be deeply religious while fighting for political freedom, and that sometimes the most revolutionary act is simply refusing to face the wrong direction181920. His life reminds us that true independence begins in the heart, and poetry can be the most powerful form of resistance.
