Temple (40)

I am like a sensitive bat. Moving abroad to China has been a very receptive time for me, and I frequently feel isolated as if I live in a cave. In an attempt to see through the darkness, I go alone to the longevity temple. Longevity in China is depicted by the character (寿) shòu, often times found decorating porcelain with five flying red bats surrounding it.   The flying red bats appear flying the clouds on the ceiling of the entrance hall of the building. There’s nothing to say when by oneself, and everything to absorb and take in. The pagoda in the final room draws me in. It’s a five feet high tower, made ​​of copper, lead, arsenic, zinc, silver, gold and other metals alloyed together pointing upwards in the encompassing, protective rainbow painted hollow of the temple. The small pagoda room is about the overall square footage of my current living quarters.

My situation living on a Chinese college campus has been uniquely isolating, in that the campus dormitory allowed me to have my own room.  I would outright refuse to stay on campus if I had to share a room, and luckily the campus administration accommodated my request. Conversely, a Chinese master’s student on that same campus would room with 6-8 other girls or boys in a room stacked with bunk beds. The lessons in humility in what a Chinese student endures are very real, what to speak of the crowded subway, traffic, spitting, cutting in line overall, in the city of 20 million people. Quiet never seems to come easily, but patience has to, so much that awareness is an innate quality in most of the people I come across. I have been able to live a fairly ascetic life in a single occupancy dormitory, outside of which there’s a quiet courtyard where bats just happen to nest and fly.

The danger of becoming very alone in a foreign country is great.  The danger of letting go and leaving everything you once knew behind is also very great. I have found that I never fully let go of the things that haunt me the most: the infatuations, betrayals, and patterns that have me caught in recurring cyclic fractals still won’t leave me, and they still show up here. Even during a nice walk through a 16^th century temple, an imperial dwelling place that houses innumerable relics and ancient art treasures isn’t enough of a meditation.  It takes sitting, absorbing, being receptive.

The small temple has but a small path to circumambulate the octagonal pagoda. The concept of yin and yang describe how opposite and contrary forces are actually complementary. I find the yin and yang duality appears prominently in this temple space.   The inside of the temple walls (the womb of the temple) painted with bright colors, and dragons (a very yang symbol), and the pagoda itself (also a prominent yang symbol) being made from cold dense metals and stone. Very powerful for me to internalize the masculine becoming the feminine and vice versa, as both the yin and yang elements of the temple also possessed qualities of their opposite.

Tourism to the temple sites with a camera felt guilty like robbery, as if I was raiding the building. Taking photos of the Buddhas inside the temples was forbidden. At first, I was like any other tourist taking pictures, and even though I knew better than to take photos, I couldn’t resist.  I wanted to remember and share my journey.  I didn’t want to mimic the Chinese way of honoring the deities. I had to connect in my own way and have an awareness and intention for visiting.

Photography became another meditation on the space, to find the right composition or make some artistry out the visit.  At first, staying “present” in the meditation was impossible, I only wanted to look back and be back and feel back. I didn’t want to look ahead, and looking through the shutter seemed tolerable. Everything I did in terms of travel felt immature and foolish.  I became lost. The temple complexes and Chinese imperial buildings were some solace with their alchemical historical magic. I slowly got lost enough to recognize the different dynasties artworks, and recognize the deities in their different forms each rendition offering a new face, and a new mood. I see myself becoming like a deity with a golden light aura, wearing fine ornaments, exquisitely crafted. The reflections on the deity somehow managed to sink in, in many different angles, with many different shades and tones. It helped me stay present enough to notice the details, and find things that were different.

I snuck on the bus to Rebkong, Qinhai province, at 6am with a white and turquoise Tibetan shawl covering my head and face. The owner of the small hostel I stayed at near Labrang monestary warned me that due to a recent self-immolation there that they weren’t allowing foreigners to get on the bus, but he said to conceal myself and I would be fine. I wanted to visit Rebkong because I discovered on the internet some information about this small traditional thangka painting village and I wanted to visit it. Luckily it was cold enough out that the heavy jacket and scarves seemed normal, I darted my green eyes quickly around to get through the ticketing booth, and I quickly pretended to be asleep in the front of the bus for the two or three-hour journey.

The bus arrived into the area and I found myself staring and lots and lots of half finished cement apartment construction as we near the small town. The Chinese development companies were building a small city on top of this small Tibetan town.  I got out of the bus and headed towards a small hotel hoping to find lodging easily here. They did not allow foreigners to stay at the first hotel I stopped at but luckily there was another place in the area with the necessary permitting. After checking in, I took a walk through the town. On my walk, I saw the newly established business malls and ranks of Chinese soliders, dressed in their standard green uniforms with a red cuff, parading in unison through the town in a group of thirty. I noticed the oppressive government as well as the Chinese business culture which had established itself in one area of the town. Many of the shops were blaring Chinese music. At this same moment that I arrived there, I was reminded of my own families losses. Suddenly, I felt a deep connection with the female monk who had performed self-immolation after seeing the drastic amount of construction there. The parcel of land I grew up on with my family on was auctioned off by my grandparents and set to be developed, and just before the construction was set to begin my brother had committed suicide on the land there. It's not the same situation at all. I don't know why my mind was suddenly drawing this parallel. I wanted to see the situation from her side too and relate to her in some way, and my mind wanted to find some meaning there. It's not the same, and my brother didn't commit suicide because of the development, but because of his own issues. He was troubled with heartache at the time. It seems like the act of self-immolation is so powerful, and the loss that the town was experiencing could be very palpably felt in the psychic ethers, and seeing the military presence there made me think seriously about my decision to arrive there. Did I need to continue hiding? Would I be kicked out? As I walked through the town with my head and neck covered trying not to be noticed by anyone, especially the police forces, and I felt a kinship with the people there who were also suffering from this loss. I felt heavy in my spirit knowing this had happened there, especially after seeing her sweet photograph dressed in the maroon robes, the entire community may have been also feeling this similar heaviness.

My interest there was in the temple complexes, and Tibetan culture, which was weaved throughout the town in the architecture and artistic touches on the buildings. There are two large impressive temple complexes, Longwu and Wutun and a nunnery. The largest monestary Longwu, is in the center of the town. I wandered through in awe of the architecture. It was different than what I thought it would look like. I had only been in China for 6 months, and the temple construction I had seen up until that point was by Nepali and Tibetan sculptures and painters in America, or Chinese temple construction in Beijing. So, the first time in the middle of a large Tibetan monestary complex was mysterious, and I had wanted to see all of it. Then I wanted to know more about how to tell the difference between the buildings in the different school of Tibetan Buddhism, such as Black hat, Red hat, or Yellow hat, which each had definite features on the buildings.

There were many different temple buildings that opened according to the different schedules of their caretakers. A few times I felt lucky to track down and find those with the keys to be let inside, and other times I had no such luck. Some of the temples seemed closed for the entire day and others told me to come back at certain times. I knocked on doors trying to get keys to get inside and be alone in some of the temples. Sometimes I was lucky, other times, I was left wanting.  I must have seemed eager, and almost demanding to the monks who held the keys. I was also being kind of sneaky, taking photographs and working covertly to capture this place in my camera so I could share the magic I had found with everyone. 

The temple for Tsongkhapa, a prominent teacher from the Gelug school of Buddhism, was especially ornate, with a three small tiers to the temple building, each a different layer of paintings, reaching to the top of the 30-40 foot deity which had a small photograph of the Dalai Lama enshrined on his lap. Tsongkhapa (1357-1419), was a buddhist scholar who led a renaissance of Buddhist teachings, and is regarded as a reincarnation of Avalokiteshvara, Manjushri, and Vajraprani and yet did not display any magical powers yet advocated for teachings of pure virtue and lived his life as a role model. The dieties of Maitreya, future Buddha, or Avaloktisvara, the Goddess of Mercy, were studded with gems and embossed with several metals, and the elaborate story paintings of Guru Rinpoche, and sophisticated decorations created contained spaces for meditations and spiritual experience to manifest itself in the heart. Multicolored quilted silk decorations hang from the tall ceilings nearly touching the meditators. I walked slowly through the area from smaller temples to the bigger temples up to the top of the hill, following endless lines of prayer wheels to spin as I walked. Every pillar covered in cloths and paintings.  Through stairwells up to the rooftops, circumambulating the deities at the top of the temples, being blessed by tiny Buddha's hiding in all corners and levels of the complex. 

During the walk, I met a nice young man. He looked very modern, wearing a down jacket and carrying a Nikon camera around his neck. He told me in his broken English that he is from Rebgong and that he is a painter and a photographer. He got out his IPAD and began showing me the photographs of the area that he’s taken which are bright and well composed. He was an impressive photographer. Then, he began to show me pictures of the Thangkas that he had painted, which are masterpieces of the arts, black background with think gold feather think brush strokes, white background with full color depictions of gods and goddesses in the Buddhist pantheon. It was hard for me to believe that he was really a painter and not a young sales guy repping for some old man. It actually had taken me several months of getting to know him before I actually believed him, several months later, when he had effortlessly sketched on a canvas a small deity to paint in myself. His original story to me was that his father was a painter, and his father’s father was also a painter who worked for the Panchen Lama. He told me that he began training for painting when he was 6 or 7 and was trained for his entire life until now, and he’s 25. The paintings he produced, although similar to the others in the area, had been recognised among several arts circles and societies which he hoped would one day actualise his dream of going to Europe to study despite strict Chinese laws about not giving Tibetans passports to get out of the country. There are few people who had achieved his level of mastery and he was getting all of the proper recognitions in place. We spent the day leisurely walking around the temple complex together and taking photographs. We hardly talked while walking around and he tried to show me a few of the areas I would have missed had a local not wanted to show me around. I gave him my phone number and email excited that he was planning to come to Beijing soon. He walked me back to the hotel and we said goodbye.

I read somewhere that some of the best trips happen by accident. Linxia was like that for me, and I had discovered it while on a trip with my university professor, Dr. Kun Shi, who is a wild cat researcher here in China. He wanted me to see more of China, and Gansu, China was definitely not on my list of vacation destinations, at least, not for January.  Linxia simply happened to be on the way to another destination I was visiting after I had finished travelling and working with him. Southern Gansu became very interesting to me because of Linxia. It's in between the capital of Gansu and the currently largest Tibetan Buddhist Monestary in China.  I had known that towards the border of Qinghai there was one of the largest Tibetan Buddhist monestaries in China, but I didn’t know that 2 hours away from that monestary was one of the more historical religious places to the Hui Chinese, who are traditionally Muslim, and is particularly Sufi Muslim. 

I went to the provincial museum for Gansu the previous week, and although they talk about the silk road, Buddhist culture, dinosaurs, and Neolithic culture there weren't any artifacts or exhibits dedicated to Muslims in Gansu. There are over 10 distinct ethnic Muslim groups in this part of China.  The Hui Chinese are an ethnic minority in China, and they have a population of nearly 10 million people dispersed throughout China. They have been recognized as being Hui because they are descendants of foreign Muslims from the Middle east, although they speak Chinese and not Turkic languages ( like the Uyghurs). Linxia has many Hui Chinese, but they perhaps aren't as recognized because the adacent region Ningxia Hui Autonomous region broke away from Gansu province and became it's own region dedicated to the Hui Chinese, which are one of 56 nationally recognized nationalities. 

Linxia city is the center for the Qadiriyyah and Kufiyya Sufi orders, and within the city there are over 100 mosques, which in the past were educational centers for saints bringing doctrines from the Middle East. On the bus towards Linxia, I saw many more mosques that are part of the district, which numbers over 1000 mosques. This area is an object for pilgrimage by foreign Muslims, as well as urban Hui in China who wish to explore a historic Sufi area, which holds institutions from the late 17^th century, as well as several sacred tombs. These places pivitol to the Sufi reform movement of the 16^th century are dedicated to Sufi masters, called menhuan which can be translated as “saintly lineages” or Chinese Sufi sects. This wave of Sufi culture revitalized an already growing Muslim population in China, which began in the Tang dynasty near 619 AD.

I got off the bus at around 11am after a relatively smooth ride from Lanzhou, with no wait time because a bus leaves every 30 minutes. At the bus station, I feel slightly awkward simply walking away from the bus, as if there’s more to be said or done there. Nonetheless, I depart, surrounded by strangers carrying their knap sacks and holding babies. At the entrance of the station and above the city on the mountain I can see a large Taoist temple with some kind of vertical pagoda. I’m tempted to go there immediately to see the view of the city, but instead start walking down the street. I reach a Muslim restaurant, which like most of these restaurants, serve beef noodles for lunch. Muslim noodle restaurants are characteristic in most cities in Gansu, with mostly young men wearing their traditional white muslim hats working inside.

I hop in a taxi and the driver asks me where I’m going. 

“qingzhen si (清真词)“ I reply, which is Chinese for Islamic temple. The direct meaning on qingzhen is pure and true Islam. They use the words qingzhen on their restaurants and stores as well. It’s kind of like the Chinese version of Halal for the Hui, and they use this word as a reinforcement of their religious habits, diet, and customs. Whether qing zhen si should be regarded as a potent symbol, a handy catch prase, evidence of Hui identity, or a manifestation of a power that really exists, I cannot say. 

In Chinese, the driver asks which one, and I tell him I want to see the oldest and most favorite qingzhen si. I also ask him to show me a reasonable hotel for the night. I get driven around on a short tour in front of the yu baba shrine, and then dropped off in a neighborhood with a few hotels. He smokes in the cab, which is typical of most drivers, although he’s so friendly that it doesn’t bother me. 

Unfortunately, I’m in the wrong place because only certain hotels in China are permitted to cater to foreigners, and the one he's dropped me off at doesn't cater to foreigners. A woman with her baby notices me looking lost and perplexed in front of the hotel and begins to ask me where I’m going etc. I tell her I’m looking for a hotel. Many Chinese muslim women have a way of dressing with sparkling accessories, and are usually adorned with rhinestones, sequence, flowers, or necklaces worn on their heads over their traditional headdress. I noticed on her she has tight black pants with a silver metal tiger embedded. Her hat is dull peach color adorned with red flowers and sequence. She takes me over to her mother who has recently killed some chickens and has set them out on a table and is picking off the rest of the remaining few feathers. Then she gets ahold of her brother on the phone who speaks fluent English.  Across the street there’s a fur vendor who has animal fur vests hanging on the wall. Nearby there are several carpet makers.  I can’t find a hotel yet, but this lady is being so nice she even offered me a place to stay at her house after another hotel turned me down for being a foreigner. Although I'm intrigued by her and her family, I decide to find my own place to stay and wind up staying at Hehai Mansion, which does cater to foreigners and is slightly upscale with rooms for 200 yuan a night. I don't expect to find a cheaper room, and in hindsight, staying with that funny lady would have been more enjoyable. Next time, I would probably take the offer. 

I finally get to exploring the nearby mosques and shrines. At the Yu Baba Shrine one of the caretakers is sweeping the stone walkway. The gongbei complexes are shrines for the Sufi master. They include a grave topped with a dome. I found an interesting article online “Muslim Tombs and Ethnic Folklore: Charters for Hui Identity” which was interesting and gave an in depth perspective on the Muslim culture, especially on the tomb culture,  which visiting this place alone could not provide for me. There are many significant tombs in Linxia which the Hui people worship, and make pilgrimage to. They worship tombs, and also pray in graveyards, which is not typical of Muslim mosque culture, nor Chinese. The Qadariyya in China was established in China by a twenty-ninth generation descendant of Muhammad, Khoja Abd Alla, and he would come to Linxia periodically to preach.   This path became firmly rooted in China by one of his disciples, Qi Jingyi, who is buried at Da gongbei. The most influential Kufiyya menhua, the Huasi branch is surrounding the tomb of Ma Laichi, who studied extensively in Yemen at Naqshbandi hostels.  No where in the shrines do I see old framed photographs as rememberance of these saints, but what I did find was several stone carved dioramas with tiny people etched into the stone. They are perched in classical Chinese style on mountains, or fishing in lakes, often reclining and relaxed like a Tao or Zen art. 

These Chinese Muslim places are adorned with wood and stone carvings, large pieces of rock, and other tao elements as decoration. They create tablets like the Taoist, and add Islamic writing on the top. The building are decorated and painted like a traditional Chinese temple or park, with teapots, lotuses, grapes, and animals create ornamentation.  Arabic script and symbols are found on doorways in place of Chinese characters. There are large prayer halls with chinese rugs with chinese scripts, and large stones on their prayer altars. They make their own incense which is sometimes thicker than my fingers. I look inside of their prayer books and they are Arabic and Chinese. At some of the mosques they are reciting and chanting together, and there is hardly a Chinese accent. The Hui Chinese also incorporate confucism, Daoism, and Buddhist folk rituals into their practices and lifestyles. I go from taxi to taxi asking to see their most favorite and oldest qingzhen si's. I'm taken down backroads and through alleys to see various gongbei.   

At a small restaurant after a long day on the lake. The walls are made of rattan and the lamps are handmade paper. Most of the chairs and tables are wood. It's touching that they build their houses and make so many practical things. 

The day on the lake felt like a shopping excursion. First I bought 3 ilk longies. Then we went to the market and I photographed the traditional people. We went to a silversmith who was selling $330 star sapphire earrings.Then we went to a cigar shop, later long necked Thai women, weavers in an umbrella shop. We made it to an impressive pagoda. It was totally dilapidated in parts. Other parts were fully restored. Part of the restoration was still in progress and they were using concrete to do some of the styling features. I had a great day simply taking photos. We ride in a long boat. Most of the other boats were 4 or 5 people, but I had one all to myself. It kind of bobbed up and down in the water. The lake was angelic and blue in the morning sky and the water had the same hue. I'm having a romantic time by yourself. The sunset over the lake was equally as incredible. I went back and had fried rice and vegetable with a strawberry lassi and tea for dinner. I fell asleep in my quiet hotel and woke up around 5am with the monks chanting next door. I booked a trek yesterday that should be a nice Valentines Day treat. We hiked all day long, beginning with a boat ride. At the docks many women were coming home from the monastery with their offering baskets. It's a donation festival to the Buddha. I took many photos of women carrying their offering plates. The monastary was sweet, and I gave offering and respect to the Buddha. I had tea with one female monk and 3 Pa-O women who were eating sticky rice with caukry sugar. We continued on our trek uphill for another 2 hours and arrived at another Pa-O families house. I I took photos of the people and interesting plants. Then we arrived to the tour guides aunts house. We watched the sunset together and then went to the small monastery in the village for the festival. They started 7 fires around the monastery, one for each day of the week. They lit candles around the monastary. The girls were reciting in the temple. 

The next morning we ate a big breakfast and hiked for 5 hours to a village where we had tea with one woman who was given a $10 bill by some travelers. She was really happy and had never had American money before. We saw many villagers, and then reached a cave temple where one monk had stayed there for one year and became an arhat. What a powerful place to do meditation. It was so dark in the cave. I would have love to stay and do retreat there. I think I'll try to find more cave temples for meditation retreat.