The Geomancer

[Yi Eui-sin was a specialist in Geomancy. His craft came into being evidently as a by-product of Taoism, but has had mixed in it elements of ancient Chinese philosophy. The Positive and the Negative, the Two Primary Principles in Nature, play a great part; also the Five Elements, Metal, Wood, Water, Fire and Earth. In the selection of a site, that for a house is called a “male” choice, while the grave is denominated the “female” choice.

Millions of money have been expended in Korea on the geomancer and his associates in the hope of finding lucky homes for the living and auspicious resting-places for the dead, the Korean idea being that, in some mysterious way, all our fortune is associated with Mother Earth.]

The Story

There was a geomancer once, Yi Eui-sin, who in seeking out a special mountain vein, started with the Dragon Ridge in North Ham-kyong Province, and traced it as far as Pine Mountain in Yang-ju County, where it stopped in a beautifully rounded end, forming a perfect site for burial. After wandering all day in the hills, Yi’s hungry spirit cried out for food. He saw beneath the hill a small house, to which he went, and rapping at the door asked for something to eat. A mourner, recently bereaved, came out in a respectful and kindly way, and gave him a dish of white gruel. Yi, after he had eaten, asked what time the friend had become a mourner, and if he had already passed the funeral. The owner answered, “I am just now entering upon full mourning, but we have not yet arranged for the funeral.” He spoke in a sad and disheartened way.

Yi felt sorry for him, and asked the reason. “I wonder if it’s because you are poor that you have not yet made the necessary arrangements, or perhaps you have not yet found a suitable site! I am an expert in reading the hills, and I’ll tell you of a site; would you care to see it?”

The mourner thanked him most gratefully, and said, “I’ll be delighted to know of it.”

Yi then showed him the end of the great vein that he had just discovered, also the spot for the grave and how to place its compass points. “After possessing this site,” said he, “you will be greatly enriched, but in ten years you will have cause to arrange for another site. When that comes to pass please call me, won’t you? In calling for me just ask for Yi So-pang, who lives in West School Ward, Seoul.”

The mourner did as directed, and as the geomancer had foretold, all his affairs prospered. He built a large tiled house, and ornamented the grave with great stones as a prosperous and high-minded country gentleman should do.

After ten years a guest called one day, and saluting him asked, “Is that grave yonder, beyond the stream, yours?” The master answered, “It is mine.” Then the stranger said, “That is a famous site, but ten years have passed since you have come into possession of it, and the luck is gone; why do you not make a change? If you wait too long you will rue it and may meet with great disaster.”

The owner, hearing this, thought of Yi the geomancer, and what he had said years before. Remembering that, he asked the stranger to remain as his guest while he went next day to Seoul to look up Yi in West School Ward. He found him, and told him why he had come.

Yi said, “I already knew of this.” So the two journeyed together to the inquirer’s home. When there, they went with the guest up the hill. Yi asked of the guest, “Why did you tell the master to change the site?”

The guest replied, “This hill is a Kneeling Pheasant formation. If the pheasant kneels too long it cannot endure it, so that within a limited time it must fly. Ten years is the time; that’s why I spoke.”

Yi laughed and said, “Your idea is only a partial view, you have thought of only one thing, there are other conditions that enter.” Then he showed the peak to the rear, and said, “Yonder is Dog Hill,” and then one below, “which,” said he, “is Falcon Hill,” and then the stream in front, “which,” said he, “is Cat River. This is the whole group, the dog behind, the falcon just above, and the cat in front, how then can the pheasant fly? It dares not.”

The guest replied, “Teacher, surely your eyes are enlightened, and see further than those of ordinary men.”

From that day forth the Yis of Pine Hill became a great and noted family.

Anon.

XVI

Moral

Yi Eui-sin demonstrates that true skill comes with moral responsibility. His transformation from self-interested fortune-seeker to person serving others shows that knowledge gains meaning only through kindness.

Historical & Cultural Context

Korean folk tales root themselves in Confucian family ethics, Buddhist compassion and Shamanic wonder, often set in thatched villages, mountain temples or the courts of the Joseon Dynasty.

Geomancy (풍수, pungsu) held significant cultural and spiritual importance in Joseon Korea, blending Daoist principles with Buddhist and folk belief. This tale critiques charlatans who abuse such knowledge while celebrating the genuine geomancer who serves community. The narrative reflects broader themes in Korean literature about expertise bound by ethical duty.

Reflection & Discussion

1. What changes Yi Eui-sin from using his knowledge to trick people into using it to help them?
2. How might someone with special skill abuse their power, and what stops them from doing so?
3. If Yi Eui-sin never felt guilty, would his kindness toward others have developed?

Did You Know?

• Korean folk tales, called ‘jeonrae donghwa,’ often feature magical tigers who can speak and transform.
• The mythical creature ‘dokkaebi’ (Korean goblin) appears in many Korean folk tales as a mischievous but sometimes helpful being.
• Many Korean folk tales emphasize the Confucian values of filial piety, loyalty, and respect for elders.

What This Tale Teaches Us Today

Old stories keep their power because their lessons never stop being useful. Here is how this one still applies:

• Every folk tale is also a time machine – a small window into how our ancestors thought about the world.
• Stories that have survived for centuries have done so because their lessons still work.
• Traditional stories remind us that wisdom belongs to many cultures. No single tradition holds all the answers.

Why This Story Still Matters

The Geomancer joins a vast global library of folk tales that human beings have been telling one another for thousands of years. Every culture has produced its own stories, but the deepest themes – courage, kindness, cleverness, loyalty, the cost of greed – appear again and again in different clothes. Modern readers who spend time with folk tales inherit something precious: a sense that people have always wrestled with the same basic questions, and that good stories can still help us find good answers. That is why these tales persist. Each one is a small tool for living, handed down quietly through generations.

Cultural Context and Continuing Influence

Folk tales like this one survived for hundreds of years through oral storytelling before any scholar thought to write them down. Grandparents told them to grandchildren, travelers traded them along roads and rivers, and mothers repeated them to babies who would one day repeat them to their own children. Each small retelling sharpened the story, discarded unnecessary parts, and polished the essential lesson. That long process of refinement is why a good folk tale feels so weighty – it has been shaped by thousands of listeners across generations, each contributing something small to the story we read today.

Modern readers sometimes wonder whether folk tales are still relevant in an age of apps and smartphones. The answer is yes, perhaps more than ever. The technology changes, but the underlying questions – about kindness, courage, loyalty, greed, family, fear, love – do not. These are the same questions that children asked around a fire in ancient India, around a hearth in medieval Ireland, around a campfire in 19th-century Korea. And they are the same questions children ask their parents today, just phrased differently. That is why a family that reads folk tales together is doing real cultural and emotional work, not simply entertaining itself.

Reading Folk Tales With Children

Reading folk tales aloud to children is one of the oldest and most effective forms of moral education. Unlike a lecture or a rule, a story slides past a child’s natural resistance and plants its lesson in the imagination, where it quietly grows. Years later, when the child meets a real situation that resembles the story – a bully at school, a dishonest coworker, a moment of temptation – the old tale rises to the surface of memory and offers guidance. That is why parents and teachers across every culture have trusted stories to do the work of raising good humans, long before formal schools or textbooks existed.

When reading this story with a young listener, try pausing at key moments and asking what the child thinks will happen next. Let them guess, even if they are wrong. That small act of prediction turns a passive listener into an active thinker. After the story ends, a simple open question – “What would you have done?” or “Who do you think was the smartest character?” – invites the child to connect the tale to their own life. Those conversations are where real learning happens, not during the reading itself but in the quiet moments that follow.

Older children and teenagers sometimes think they have outgrown folk tales. In reality, the best tales only deepen with age. A ten-year-old hears the surface plot; a fifteen-year-old notices the irony; a twenty-year-old sees the economic and political pressures on the characters; a forty-year-old understands the parents in the story for the first time. A good folk tale is a gift that keeps unfolding for decades. Families who read and reread the same stories across the years discover this naturally, and pass the discovery down.