One of the many perks of moving to Korea is having a Buddhist temple in every ‘hood, and thus many opportunities to learn about and experience this ancient Asian faith. The iconic Bonguensa temple near the COEX mall in Seoul, pictured above, is just one of many examples. I love the way its peaceful environs stand in such stark contrast to the futuristic cityscape unfolding behind it.

I don’t know if I’ll ever adhere to an organized religion, but if I did, Buddhism would probably be my pick. I feel happy when I can manage to sit still enough for yoga and meditation. I’m pretty sure the Buddha was spot on when he figured out that clinging to one’s ego and to material goods is the cause of all suffering. And as my best friend said upon her last visit, “I think a big gaudy golden statue of a healthy, happy enlightened dude is way more inspiring than a picture of a skinny white guy with a beard.”

That said, I don’t know if I’m ready, or worthy enough, to join the old folks in their prostrations and orbits around the local pagoda.

A beautiful Buddhist temple in Bukhansan National Park, visited while jet-lagged and hungover.

My friend Josh, who ditched most of his belongings a year ago in order to travel the world and write about it, once referred to himself as a “shitty Buddhist” because he now tries to live constantly in the present, as the alternative would be to feel constantly lonely for home and the many people he’s met since he left. For some reason, my friends and I latched on to “shitty Buddhism” as an apt term for the way many Westerners of my generation are dabbling in this Eastern belief system, and joked about it often after. There are so many of us out there practicing our own forms of Shitty Buddhism, and even exploring the East in order to deepen our understanding of it and to become less shitty. And there are so many of us who find that, despite our wish to be free from suffering and the desire to own an iPhone 4, we’re still struggling with all the temptations and paradoxes indigenous to the 21st-century soul-seeking experience.

Lanterns at Bonguensa temple

My personal obstacles include the following:

1) I am in the throes of an escalating chemical war with the mosquitoes and fruit fies in my house. I’m ready to practice full-on ahimsa when those assholes stop snacking on my ankles and eating all my bananas.

2) I cannot imagine a life without strong coffee or wine (of the grape or rice variety).

3) I have a bad habit of making mental grocery lists when I’m supposed to be meditating.

4) I’m unclear as to Buddhism’s stance on 3am danceathons. And will likely try to remain unclear on it until I’ve had my fill of them. Which may take a long time. Perhaps this is why monks are usually really old. I’m betting they’ve got some crazy stories.

5) Like Dave Eggers, I like saying yes to things and people.  Not seeking something out or grasping toward something, whether it’s a beer or a friendship, is one thing; saying no to something that’s being freely offered is quite another. And I strongly dislike the idea of missing something in this life in case there is no such thing as reincarnation. So I’m usually prone to err on the side of Rilke and let life happen to me, rather than retreating into the supposed haven of religion, rules and restraint.

As a result, I have very few large regrets, but many, many little ones. And it’s just too early to tell which will weigh more on my mind as I grow old.

Until I can find more certainty in myself about this, I’m bound to be a shitty Buddhist. And I’m pretty sure I’m not alone.

So maybe we can start a new religion. Build shrines in the back of basement bars and leave six-packs of PBR as offerings. Invite our bad decisions to come to yoga with us. Hike off our hangovers on the way to a mountaintop temple. Alternate ancient chants with our favorite LCD Soundsystem songs at our Shitty Buddhist get-togethers. Vow to be vegetarians who only sometimes eat raw oysters and gamjatang. And promise the Buddha and our best friends that we’ll simply try to do the best we can, if only so we don’t come back as ankle-biting mosquitos.

Assholes.