Do you have a place of solitude?  That special location—be it within your home or beyond—that is yours alone?  A place where you go when you want or really need to be alone?  Does spending time there, whether in prayer, meditation, reading a book, watching a movie, or even just blankly staring at the wall, somehow settle your … well … your soul?  Does the simple act of entering that place make your shoulders relax, put your mind at ease, and begin the process of flushing out unnecessary—if all too pressing—anxieties?

I think a lot of folks find and seek solace in a special place, often “special” for no other reason than that they’ve chosen it.  For me, someone who’s moved some 24 times in my life, I never really settled on a specific location.  The transient nature of the military lifestyle would have made that all but impossible anyway, but I’ve come to experience that same feeling while in motion.  Not just in transit from A to B, but riding a bike or hiking a mountain trail seems to bring me to that place where I seem to think more clearly, feel less anger, and start to truly relax, in body, mind, and, yes, soul.

It’s interesting to me that we, as humans, tend to seek and find solace in certain places and experiences.  Most of you are already aware of my deep and abiding love of castles, of all types and origin, and yet I’ve never fully understood exactly why I’m drawn to these places.  As I write this now I wonder if it isn’t indeed related to the sense of safety and protected isolation that I experience when visiting these locations.  Somebody feared something or, more likely, someone, and so built a structure that then lasted for hundreds of years in order to keep those inside safe, providing them that same relief from anxiety and stress that so often seems to plague humanity.

My thoughts this morning as I dwell on the sanctuaries we establish, either in physical form or in our minds, turn to the former, a physical location of refuge and strength that once protected a kingdom from a seemingly irresistible foe.  When I consider such locations my mind is naturally drawn to the existence and history of Ganghwa Island, and the incredible role that tiny plot of land played in the history of the Korean people.

The rocky island itself lies near the confluence of the Han and Imjin Rivers, just off the western coast of what is today the Republic of Korea.  Covering a mere 300 square kilometers, the island is separated from the mainland at multiple places by only 100 meters or so.  It appears a less than impregnable position, after all, crossing rivers is what invading armies do quite routinely, and the watercourse running along Ganghwa’s eastern coast wouldn’t even make an impressive river.  But for the tidal race, that is.  The tides around Ganghwa are famous and some of the most vigorous I’ve ever seen, making the crossing perilous for those without local knowledge.  Thus the tiny island would have presented every appearance of being protected by nature itself, the perfect location for a military base.

This was first accomplished in the 9th Century by the Unified Silla Government.  The aim then was to protect the Han estuary from marauding pirates and Chinese invaders.  Ganghwa, at the very mouth of the vital Han River, was the perfect location, and first one, and then other supplementary defensive positions, were built at strategic locations around the island throughout the Silla and into the Goryeo period.

The first invasion of the mighty Mongol armies in 1231—the first of six, it must be noted—caused great alarm within the Kingdom of Goryeo.  The speed with which the Mongols moved, the professionalism and discipline with which they operated, and the quality of their leadership were more than the small Korean kingdom could manage.  After several small-scale engagements failed to turn back the veteran Mongol troops, Goryeo sued for peace.  A temporary measure to be sure, it bought time to consider a new approach, and what turned out to be an interesting solution to the problem.

The following year, the court simply moved to Ganghwa Island.  The entire court.  The King, his family, advisors, personal guard, all their families, everyone moved from the capital at Kaesang to Ganghwa and necessary buildings were quickly constructed there to facilitate its new designation as the administrative center of the nation.  Food stores were moved to the island by land and sea and the population ordered to provision and then occupy the many mountain fortresses liberally scattered across the country in anticipation of the Mongol response.

For their part, realizing in 1232 the initial truce had been little more than a ruse, the Mongols flooded back down the steep mountain valleys of northern Korea with a vengeance.  They found little success as the populace heeded the word of their king and took refuge in their high mountain bastions.  Yet the Mongol’s fear of the sea—even the short but turbulent stretch of sea which girded Ganghwa’s eastern shore—kept the invaders at bay.  Unable to force the Goryeo King to leave the island and join them in battle, unwilling to expend the soldiers and resources required to besiege the many fortifications, the Mongols abandoned the invasion when their commander was shot down by an arrow and once again withdrew from the Korean Peninsula.

Being the Mongols, perhaps the most ambitious and energetic conquerors to have ever walked the earth, they would be back.  In fact, the Mongols would invade again in 1235, 1247, 1251 and four times in rapid succession between 1253 and 1258 before finally achieving a lasting negotiated peace with the Kingdom of Goryeo.  Throughout those campaigns the Mongols made multiple attempts to take the island fortress of Ganghwa, yet none of these achieved any real measure of success.  In fact, the King didn’t depart his place of refuge until the final peace agreement was signed.

Please bear in mind we’re talking about the Mongols here.  A people who at that point in history had steamrolled every kingdom they’d encountered from the Chinese in the east to the Abassid Caliphate, Russians, and Hungarians in the West, took six campaigns over the course of 27 years to bring tiny Goryeo to the peace table!  Much of the credit for how that incredible underdog defense of their country was achieved has to go to the fortifications built by them and their ancestors.  Pride of placement, of course, goes to the island fortress of Ganghwa.

As we go about our weekend, seeking solace from the craziness that the rest of the week inflicted upon us, I know many of you will seek out your own place to rest, recuperate, and ready yourselves for the next fight, the next struggle.  Whether it’s a physical location—a prayer closet, a garden, or rooftop—or just a state of mind achieved while engaged in a beloved activity, my sincerest hope is that we can all discover our own Ganghwa Island.  And in that place find ourselves renewed, once again ready to engage on the battlefield of life.

M. G. Haynes