Bogwangsa Temple During the Pandemic: Lost in Stillness

by: Hugo J. Smal
images: Mickey Paulssen

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Cities closed their gates.

People disappeared behind doors. Newspapers spoke of rising death tolls, collapsing markets, and borders that refused to open. COVID-19 had the world in a grip no one could fully understand—except those who lived through it. And us? Mickey and I were stuck in South Korea.

Well, stuck? Maybe not in the way most would imagine. Kim Young Soo, president of Baedagol Theme Park and Goyang Koi Farm, had made sure we had a place to stay. Above the closed Baedagol Museum, he had arranged a small apartment for us. The park’s gates remained shut to the outside world, but we were free to wander the gardens. In a time when most people were confined to their living rooms, that felt like a gift.

Still, something felt missing. Perhaps it was the awareness that the world was in crisis—that one could be safe, yet still trapped in an invisible structure. Or maybe it was a longing for something deeper than mere comfort.

Kim Jae Ho, our friend and translator, saw it. Perhaps he saw it before we did. One day, he suggested we visit Bogwangsa(보광사), a temple nestled deep in the hills of Paju. Kim Young Soo, as always, arranged everything. It began on August 1, 2019—under the stars of Goyang, when a pattern quietly took shape: the Jijang fractal. I did not know then that the world was also shifting, that a hidden storm—later known as COVID-19—was already forming.

The date was December 1, 2019.

That day, the temple gate would open for us. That day, the Jijang fractal would no longer reside only in my thoughts—but take on a tangible form.

🔹 More on the Origins of the Jijang Fractal

The Jijang fractal first revealed itself to me during walks through Goyang. In a seemingly ordinary neighborhood, something extraordinary appeared. You can read the full experience and explanation in my reflection: 👉 Neighbourhood & Jijang fractal

The Road to Stillness

The rain gently tapped against the car windows as we wound our way through the mountains of Paju. The Imjin River flowed sullen and grey. We had left early, hoping to catch a glimpse of North Korea from the nearby observatory, but the mist had erased the horizon. What we expected to see—a border, a divide, a clear contrast—had vanished into a haze of gray tones. Disappointed, Kim Jae Ho restarted the car and turned into the mountains.

The road to Bogwangsa Temple was short. Gradually, the landscape shifted; buildings gave way to forest and near silence. And then, even before we reached the temple grounds, he appeared: Jijang-bosal—immovable—standing on a pedestal as if he himself were a gateway to another reality. His gaze rested far into the distance, yet felt deeply fixed on us. Behind him rose Goryeongsan (고령산), a 436-meter-high mountain, and Gamaksan, reaching up to 675 meters. Along with the Imjingang River, they form a harmonious geomantic configuration believed to enhance the spiritual energy of Bogwangsa. For me, it turned out to be the perfect place for contemplation.

Bogwangsa Temple – Description and Layout

A large signboard near the entrance shows a detailed map of Bogwangsa. Mounted within a traditional wooden structure topped by a black-tiled roof, the board offers visitors an overview of the temple layout—including major halls, pathways, and natural features. The entire complex is surrounded by forested hills, amplifying its serene and spiritual atmosphere.

… 

Bogwansa (보광사) and Doseon Guksa

Bogwansa temple was founded in 894 CE by the renowned monk Doseon Guksa, under the order of Queen Jinseong during the Silla period. At that time, it was considered a hidden national treasure and one of the six grand temples north of the Hangang River.

Doseon Guksa (827–898) was a prominent Korean Buddhist monk and geomancer. He is often associated with the introduction and development of pungsu-jiri (풍수지리), the Korean adaptation of feng shui. 

At the age of 15, Doseon entered monastic life and began his studies at Hwaeomsa Temple in Gurye County. His dedication and intellect quickly earned him recognition. Around 850, he traveled to Tang China to further immerse himself in esoteric Buddhist and Taoist teachings, including astronomy, astrology, and geomancy. After returning to Korea, Doseon journeyed across the peninsula, studying how geographical features influenced human life. He adapted Chinese feng shui principles to the Korean context, emphasizing the harmonious relationship between humans and nature. His approach, known as bibo-pungsu-jiri, focused on enhancing positive energies through the strategic placement of cities, temples, and other structures. His expertise in geomancy made him a valued advisor. He is credited with the establishment of approximately 70 temples and monasteries, including Bogwangsa Temple in Paju. 

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZwugtMqHnK8[/embedyt]

During the Imjin War (1592–1598), Bogwangsa was destroyed but was rebuilt in 1622 by monks Seolmi and Deogin. Since then, the temple has undergone various renovations to preserve its historical and cultural significance.  A notable feature of Bogwangsa is the large Buddha statue, known as the ‘Hoeguk Dae Bul.’ Standing as a guardian of compassion and transition, the grand stone Jijang-bosal is visible from afar. His presence is more than symbolic; in his majesty and serenity, he embodies the character of a Hoeguk Dae Bul—a ‘Great Buddha who saves the nation.’ Not only does he welcome visitors, but he also marks a threshold: between the mundane and the sacred, between the known and the karmically unknown. As a guide for souls and protector of the land, he unites individual and collective salvation.

The temple also houses nine cultural properties, including the historic ‘Daeungbojeon’ (the main hall) and a 300-year-old juniper tree. According to tradition, this tree was planted by King Yeongjo in honor of the spirit of his mother, Sukbin Choi. 

Bogwangsa and Jogye Order

Bogwangsa is managed by monks of the Jogye Order, the largest sect within Korean Buddhism. Unlike, for example, the Tibetan Buddhist tradition, where the Tibetan Book of the Dead (Bardo Thödol, 바르도 퇴돌) plays a central role, the Jogye Order follows the Seon tradition. They strive for direct enlightenment through meditation and direct experience of the true nature of the mind, beyond concepts and illusions. The emphasis is on releasing attachment to a ‘fixed’ death experience—the idea that death is an absolute, unchanging process—and instead, the transition is seen as a fluid, karmic manifestation dependent on one’s state of consciousness and actions in life. In Korean Buddhism, a Jijangjae (지장재) is often performed at death, a ritual dedicated to Jijang-bosal (Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva), who assists souls in safely navigating the afterlife.

intriguing tension

So within the temple exists an intriguing tension, though not necessarily a contradiction. Bogwangsa does indeed belong to the Jogye Order and follows the Seon (Zen) Buddhist tradition, where enlightenment through meditation is central. At the same time, Bogwangsa is devoted to Jijang-bosal (Ksitigarbha), who is precisely the guide through the Bardo—the intermediate state after death.

How can this be reconciled?

🔹 Seon Buddhism and Meditation as the Core of the Jogye Order

•The Jogye Order primarily focuses on direct experience and meditation (Seon).

•Its ultimate goal is enlightenment here and now, without reliance on external forces or intermediary states.

🔹 The Role of Jijang-bosal in Temples Like Bogwangsa

•Jijang-bosal is the savior of souls in the Bardo, helping them toward enlightenment or reincarnation.

•This parallels the Tibetan Bardo Thödol (Tibetan Book of the Dead), where a guide is essential for the transition into a new state of existence.

•This suggests that Bogwangsa is not solely focused on direct enlightenment, but also on guiding souls after death.

Bridging Seon and Jijang-bosal

Bogwangsa’s emphasis on Jijang-bosal points to a pragmatic approach to enlightenment:

🔹 For the living: Seon meditation is highlighted as the path to enlightenment during life.

🔹 For the dead: Jijang-bosal plays a role for those who missed the chance for enlightenment and are now in the Bardo.

🔹 Rituals like Sasipgujae (the 49-day mourning ceremony) help guide souls toward eventual liberation.

In essence, Bogwangsa fulfills a spiritual need that the pure Seon tradition does not always address explicitly: the care for the dead and the ancestors. This is not unique—many Korean Seon temples include shamanistic and Mahayana elements to fulfill broader religious and cultural needs.

A Quiet Moment in the Hall of Jijang

I don’t remember how long I sat there. Maybe it was just a few minutes. Maybe half a lifetime. The air inside the hall was still, carried by incense and expectation. Jijang-bosal did not look at me, and yet it felt as if I had already been seen.

I am not a Buddhist. I was raised Catholic. Images, rituals, prayer—they are familiar to me. But what does a European mind, shaped by grace and sin, do in a hall devoted to karma and rebirth?

And yet, in this silence, I understood that the question wasn’t whether I believed in the Bardo, but whether I had ever dared to admit that I was in it. Not after my death, but now. In transition. Between knowing and unknowing. Between control and surrender.

Jijang-bosal offers no dogma, no judgment. He doesn’t extend his staff to condemn, but to guide. He doesn’t judge my origin, only my willingness to let go. To find trust in transitions instead of fear.

Perhaps that’s what the temple gave me. Not conversion, not an answer, but a calm. A deep knowing that when the time comes, even a soul shaped at the foot of a cross can find its path with the help of a bodhisattva with golden eyes.

Because if the Bardo is a space between, then Jijang is not the owner of that space. He is its guide. And guides don’t demand. They wait. Until you ask: may I come with you?

The Daeungbojeon – The Heart of the Temple

Passing through the main gate, we entered the temple grounds. The rain had ceased, leaving the scent of wet wood and lingering incense in the air. Before us stood the Daeungbojeon (대웅보전, Great Hero Hall), the spiritual center of Bogwangsa.

At the center, Shakyamuni Buddha (석가모니불, Seokgamoni-bul) sits in the lotus position. His serene face exudes a peaceful expression, surrounded by a halo symbolizing enlightenment and spiritual power. To his left stands, I believe, one of the Four Heavenly Kings (사천왕, Sacheonwang), respectfully folding his hands in protection of the Buddha and the Dharma. To the right stands Jijang-bosal (Kṣitigarbha, 지장보살), the bodhisattva of the afterlife.

Jijang-bosal’s staff (Shakujō, 석장) symbolizes his role as a guide for souls in the Bardo, with the sound of its rings awakening them and leading them toward enlightenment. The six rings represent the Six Realms of Existence, while the staff itself embodies Jijang-bosal’s determination and dedication. In Bogwangsa’s Jijangjeon, the staff signifies spiritual protection and guidance, especially in rituals like the 49-day transition ceremony (Sasipgujae). 

Also present at the altar are the Siwang (십왕), the Ten Kings of the Underworld, suggesting that this hall is dedicated not only to enlightenment (Shakyamuni) and meditation but also serves as a space for transitional rituals. The combination of the Buddha, protectors, and underworld icons makes this altar a significant intersection between enlightenment, protection, and the karmic cycle of rebirth. The Ten Kings of the Underworld are symbolic judges, each representing a stage of the soul’s journey, assessing the karma of the deceased and determining their next destination in the cycle of rebirth.

This altar thus forms the spiritual heart of Bogwangsa, where both monks and visitors come together to meditate, pray, and pay respects to the forces that influence both this life and the next.

As I turned away from the main altar—its presence still lingering in the incense-thick air—my eyes were drawn upward. Not to a specific icon, but to the silent gaze of many. Eyes carved in patience, cast in compassion, painted in timeless serenity.They didn’t demand belief. They didn’t offer escape. They simply were. In that moment, I felt a shift—not in my faith, but in my understanding.

“The substance of Mahāyāna is truly calm and immensely profound,” wrote Wonhyo, the great Korean monk, in his commentary on The Awakening of Faith in Mahāyāna. He pointed not to dogma, but to experience—to the still and boundless heart of the Dharma itself. Perhaps that was what had watched me all along.Not a deity. Not an idea. But the path itself: not built of words, but of insight. The Dharma—not as scripture, but as living truth. A calm that opens, a depth that listens. Between stone and silence, between breath and blessing. And so I turned, ready to meet what waited behind the second altar.

As I turned from the main altar—its silence still echoing in my breath—I didn’t know another presence awaited me. Tucked just behind the Hall’s center, shrouded in shadows and time, stood a second altar.

What secrets did it hold? What story would unfold there?Next: The Second Altar – Between Earth and Afterlife 🕊️ Coming soon on Mantifang

I invite you to follow me Hugo J. Smal  , Jijang’s fractal or Spiritual East Asia 

Disclaimer: While every effort has been made to accurately describe and name the icons, halls, and rituals within Bogwangsa, it’s possible that some inaccuracies remain. If you notice any errors in naming or placement, please feel free to let me know. More than correctness, however, what matters most to me is the feeling the story evokes—its atmosphere, its intention, and its sincerity. Hugo J. Smal