Buddha's Birthday Celebrations in Seoul

When a city of ten million pauses to light lanterns for peace, to honour something sacred and spiritual, you feel it. Not just with your eyes, but with your whole being. And I couldn’t help but want to be part of it.

May 5th in Korea is a special day. It marks both Buddha’s Birthday, known as Seokga Tansinil, and Children’s Day, a national celebration of innocence, laughter, and joy.

But even before the official celebrations, the magic had already begun. Two weeks earlier, we wandered through a lantern parade with glowing lotus lanterns, animated dragons, and rivers of light winding through the night. Like many other families, we lit our own lanterns that evening. It felt like a warm-up, a prelude to something deeper, with Buddha’s birthday as the heart of it all.

The place where this celebration strikes deepest is Jogyesa Temple, nestled behind my favourite corner of Seoul, Insadong. Thousands of colourful lanterns hang above like a floating canopy, bells chime softly in the distance, and the scent of incense and flowers lingers in the breeze. It's almost impossible not to slow down, to turn inward. I felt part of something far greater than myself - my emotions tender, open, and real.

On my previous visits, I’d seen the wish tags hanging from the lanterns, fluttering like little secrets in the wind. I often wondered what people were wishing for. What burdens they carried. What dreams kept them going.

This time, it was my turn. I wanted to add my wish too.

In a world obsessed with image, achievement, and more - more money, more success, more everything, I found myself pulled in a different direction. When the kind Korean woman asked me what I wished for so she could write it on the tag, I didn’t ask for more money, a dream job, or a bigger house, although I may want those too. Instead, without hesitation, I said, "Love and Health."

Because when you love, and you are loved, and your health is good, everything else comes and falls into place. So with my heartfelt intention, she wrote my wish and once the tag was illuminated, I carried it to be hung among the others.

So, there it is now, dancing in the wind, nestled between a thousand hopes, like a little butterfly, colourful and vulnerable, held by something sacred. For a few weeks, my wish lives out there in the open, in a place that feels profoundly alive with purpose.

That visit to Jogyesa Temple lit something within me. I got to experience Buddhism first hand - on Buddha’s Birthday, you're invited inside the temple, a sacred space that feels both welcoming and humble. I stepped in with quiet reverence and found a place to sit on the floor. Surrounded by the soft murmur of chanting, the scent of incense, and the quiet presence of others deep in prayer, I began to reflect. Suddenly, I felt emotional- overwhelmed by a wave of gratitude as I thought of my daughters. How deeply I love my family. How lucky I am to be here, in this beautiful country, experiencing and growing. In Buddhism, this might be called a glimpse of grace, a moment of mindful awareness when you see, with sudden clarity, just how beautiful your life already is. Maybe it was the lanterns. Maybe the chanting. Maybe simply the stillness. But I was there - fully. Grateful. With clear mind.

That sense of clarity and openness continued as I moved through the temple grounds, where another beautiful tradition awaited - Bathing of the Buddha, a ritual where you gently pour water over the baby Buddha statue. It symbolizes the cleansing of the mind and the rebirth of compassion. In that simple act, there’s an invitation to soften, to return to your heart, to begin again.

One of the core symbols of Buddhism is awakening, and we were invited into that experience when we joined the line to ring the great bronze bell. With a wooden battering ram and a little teamwork from our family, we struck it together. The sound that followed was low and resonant, rippling through the air and into my chest. For a brief moment, my heartbeat felt like it aligned with its deep, lingering echo. Maybe it awakened something in me too - a deeper stillness, a call to presence. A loud call for change. Something much bigger than me.

Generosity is something that was obvious in the temple too - free temple food offered to all visitors - simple but powerful gesture of generosity. Long rows of people sat on benches or stood in crowds, sharing quiet conversation while eating from humble paper bowls. The food was vegetarian, colourful, and nourishing -not made to impress, but to sustain, to honour the body and spirit. It was a quiet kind of abundance, served with grace.

Strangers were also generous to us, smiling and waving at my younger daughter handing her sweets and small gifts. No expectation. No agenda. Just kindness, freely given.

Even though I’m not religious, something was lit within me that day - a longing for love, compassion and connection. The deep values of Buddhism had found their way into my heart.

When a city slows down to honour peace, so did I. And in doing so, I think I found a little more of myself.

There’s something about Buddhism that calls to me. Not just in the rituals, the symbolism, or the peaceful atmosphere, but in the deeper values it represents. Kindness, compassion, mindfulness, and the importance of living with intention and presence. I find myself wondering if I should learn more - not just about its teachings, but about how to truly embody them. To live by those values, to integrate them into the rhythms of my life, not just in moments of reflection, but in every interaction and every decision.

Maybe the real awakening isn’t just in the rituals or the grand gestures. It's in the small, everyday choices we make. In the way we treat others, in how we cultivate gratitude, and in the stillness we find when we’re truly present. Maybe it’s in recognizing that the path to peace and change begins with ourselves, and with living with purpose and authenticity.

I don’t know exactly what this awakening will look like in my life, but I do know that something shifted in me that da. Something worth following, something much bigger than me.