On the wall,
a time-stained
deer-hunting jacket.
A deer’s head.

A collapsing
chicken coop.

The innocence
of a dog larger than a man.

A pigpen
built any which way.

Climbing out of mud water
that harms not even a square foot,
taking a bath in the heat,
then lying down—
this was
peace,
where time loosens.

A single horse,
head barely lifted,
standing all day.

Beside it,
a thirty-meter pond
waits
for the grandchildren.

People—
the Hawks family,
like eagles,*

on a Pennsylvania hillside,
for five generations,
have been practicing
how to return
to soil.

—Yoon Tae-Hun, August 16, 1998

Note:

To return to the soil is not simply a matter of burial or biology. It is a practice—an inner discipline of remembering where we come from and where we will one day go. In a world that constantly pulls us upward into ambition, noise, and speed, the return to soil invites us downward into humility, grounding, and truth.

Soil is honest. It receives everything without judgment—our failures, our pride, our exhaustion, our hopes. It transforms what is broken into nourishment, what is discarded into life. When we practice returning to the soil, we practice becoming real again.

This return begins with small gestures: slowing our breath, touching the earth, listening to the quiet beneath our feet. It continues as we let go of the illusions that keep us restless—status, comparison, the endless chase for more. Soil teaches us that nothing is wasted, and nothing is permanent. Everything is held, broken down, and renewed.

To return to the soil is to remember that we are part of a larger story—one that began long before us and will continue long after. It is to recognize that our strength comes not from standing above others, but from being rooted deeply in love, humility, and compassion.

In practicing this return, we learn to live more lightly, more gratefully, more awake. We learn to honor the earth that holds us, the people who shaped us, and the God who breathed life into dust.

And when the time comes for our final return, we will not fear it. We will know the soil as home.