There and Back Again

Kuling is the pen name of Wang Yuren, a graduate of National Taiwan University’s Department of Chinese Literature with a gift for language. Before his withdrawal from society and move to the mountains, he had worked as a high-school teacher, magazine editor, and host of radio and television programs, in addition to being a best-selling author of 50 books.

Kuling’s retreat into relative seclusion was precipitated by his 2001 divorce from his wife, Su Yuzhen, an event that destroyed his public image and caused the readers who had once supported him to turn their backs.

At first, Kuling ignored the fallout from his affair. He continued to host his shows and even bought a luxury apartment to demonstrate his intention to soldier on. But when his books stopped selling and his royalties dried up, he realized that his readers disapproved. “I was angry at first, but came to understand: it wasn’t the affair that had made people stop buying my books, but my dishonesty.”

Years later, his son told him that one of his university professors had mocked the boy in class about his father’s marital fortunes. He realized then that his actions had wronged and embarrassed his son. They had also caused Kuling himself to suffer a period of depression so severe that it required pharmaceuticals to treat.

Kuling has made arrangements to donate all the royalties from his most recent work, the second since his return from “exile,” to charity.

“How can you be a writer when you’ve lost your readers?” Unwilling to be the subject of scorn and finger-pointing, Kuling retreated to the mountains.

“You have to have a reason to withdraw into the mountains and take refuge in Nature.” Kuling says that when he found himself bored with all the beautiful scenery, he began applying himself with even more diligence than he had as a kid preparing for the university entrance exams. He took classes and studied, observed the plants, birds, and insects of the mountains, and even took up drawing them to better remember all the details. His hard work qualified him as a guide, and eventually made him a senior guide and lecturer.

As “Volunteer Guide No. 427, Wang Yuren” in Shei-Pa National Park, Kuling was rarely recognized. Even his coworkers at the park treated him as just another guide. “Nobody cared about the rights and wrongs of the controversies or rumors from my past. Their concerns were the growth of this tree and the blossoming of that flower, the song of this bird and the drifting of that cloud.”

“Mother Nature opened wide her arms and embraced me,” he says. “The creatures of the forest became dear friends. While here, I learned afresh to face myself and the people of the world with integrity.”

Kuling delighted in interpreting the natural world for visitors and developed his own methods for teaching the lessons to be learned from Nature.

“Falling leaves nourishing their roots are like the elder members of an extended family returning to their hometowns after working elsewhere. Flowers shouldn’t be thoughtlessly plucked because they are plants’ reproductive organs. Fruits shouldn’t be eaten because they are plants’ children.” His narration turns an 800-meter-long stretch of misty trail into a fascinating hour-and-a-half walk.

Kuling was especially grateful to one child with Down’s syndrome who marched at the very front of his group listening attentively to everything Kuling said. About halfway through the tour, the boy exclaimed, “This is so interesting!” His enthusiasm brought tears to Kuling’s eyes. “Being able to interest him in Nature was incredibly rewarding.”

Kuling himself produced these illustrations as an aid to identifying birds.

Kuling wrote almost nothing during his time as a national-park volunteer. When he did pick up his pen again, it was to produce educational content for the park’s own use. But the mention of those materials on TV quickly led to phonecalls from publishers.

Just like that, Kuling had inadvertently become a nature writer and reentered society.

“I didn’t experience some kind of dramatic epiphany,” he says, “I just evolved.” While plugging his new book on TV, he noticed that he was able to speak freely about his past mistakes and realized he’d let go of them.

When he divorced, Kuling turned his assets over to his wife. When he moved, he donated his collection of more than 3,000 books to a Miaoli public library run by a former classmate. The writer so thoroughly divested himself of his possessions that he didn’t even retain copies of the 50 books he’d authored himself.

His first book post reinvention and reemergence is The Atayal Girl’s Magic Forest, a book that has elicited endless letters from knowledgeable persons offering corrections. Now in its 10th printing, the book is still being revised. “It’s an indication of the limits of my knowledge,” the author says with humility.

Ten years removed from Kuling’s earlier works, the book has sold a surprising 50,000 copies, netting the writer significant royalties, half of which he has donated to charity. To save himself some trouble, he has arranged for the royalties from the second volume to go directly to a charity, the Eden Foundation, which helps families with members with disabilities.

In his foreword to The Atayal Girl’s Magic Forest, Kuling thanks all who have ever read his work. “You taught me something when you ‘left.’ Will you now accept me as the prodigal son returned?” writes Kuling. “I’ll keep on writing until you come back.”

“I don’t acknowledge my earlier works because I wasn’t honest in those days.” Newly committed to writing, he says, “I have only two books and am preparing to publish my third.”

Last year, Kuling enjoyed an extended sojourn on Matsu’s Dongju Island, which is just 2.6 square kilometers in area, at the invitation of the Lienchiang County Department of Culture.

“I love the secluded nature of these kinds of tiny islands. Dongju is one of Matsu’s outlying islands, just as Matsu is one of Taiwan’s outlying islands, and Taiwan itself is an island off the coast of mainland China. Kuling says that his third book, which will come out in April or May of this year, describes his new ‘hometown’ of Dongju and is titled An Outlier of an Outlier of an Outlier of an Island.

A persuasive speaker, Kuling’s ecological interpretations are filled with both wisdom and passion.

Kuling has changed. Washed clean by Nature, he has become kind and gentle, and greatly simplified his life.

On the road, he now makes way for other drivers. “In Nature, only the strong give way to the weak,” he explains. He adds that he also has the good fortune to not have to hurry, so letting other people move ahead of him is no big deal.

This kinder, gentler Kuling also can’t bear to see other people suffer. He recently came across an elementary school sports team in Yilan that had lacked the money for new uniforms for five years. Troubled by their situation, he made inquiries and then began raising money for new uniforms. On another occasion, he was riding Taiwan’s high-speed rail from Kaohsiung to Taichung when he saw a World Vision request for donations for people who had dropped out of school and had to contribute.

While very willing to spend money on others, Kuling himself leads an almost ascetic life.

He owns no real estate, and his only asset is an SUV worth NT$700,000 or so. He stays with his girlfriend when in Kaohsiung and with his mother when in Taichung, where he occupies a tiny room just 10 square meters in area. With fewer than 30 items in his wardrobe, he doesn’t even own much clothing.

“It’s like climbing a mountain: the less you carry the lighter your burden,” he says. And since fewer than half the people on the planet get three meals a day, he eats just two—breakfast and dinner.

“I face few constraints on my life,” he says. He explains that the money he put into savings-oriented insurance policies now yields him roughly NT$25,000 per month, which is plenty for him to live on.

Kuling’s been giving away more than money. In fact, he plans to donate his body after his death. He jokes that he’s a “three card” donor: he’s signed away his organs and his cadaver, and has left a do-not-resuscitate order.

Kuling has been far from lonely these last few years. In addition to his girlfriend, he has a tight group of friends with whom he gets out and about. Nowadays, his life revolves around reading, hiking in the mountains, and traveling.

This month, his book club is discussing Life of Pi, to which he had a visceral reaction. “People fear being alone even more than they fear death,” he remarks, arguing that human beings can’t exist outside of a group and noting that he was fortunate to retain his friends when the larger world abandoned him. He adds that his girlfriend of seven years is the best of companions. “I’m so lucky that someone still wants me!” he says.

Kuling learned from Nature that only the truly strong make way for the weak.

While Kuling doesn’t want to revisit the past, he is grateful for the adversity he experienced.

“At 49 years of age, a time when most people are beginning their midlife crises, I entered the second phase of my life.” He jokes that if his problems hadn’t compelled him to give up everything, he’d never have experienced the quiet joy he knows today.

These days, he finds pleasure in reading and seeking knowledge, getting close to Nature, and sharing happiness with others. “In Nature, there’s neither glory nor disrepute in having or not-having, and no existing for others. I set my ego aside, and am free of suffering.”

“Traveling to a place with little water and sitting to look at the clouds,” Kuling says, he realized that when you reach a dead end, letting go is a better choice than fighting. “Your body might not be able to leave that spot, but your mind can soar amongst the clouds.”

For Kuling, the time had come. After 10 years in relative seclusion, he left the mountains and, carrying a little of Nature’s magic with him, reentered human society.