Wrapped in two jackets, a scarf, gloves, a sweater, a hat, socks, and sneakers, I set out to find enlightenment.
I visited the Lama Temple today. I only have one class on Thursdays, and I've been meaning to get to some of the sites I haven't visited. I thought today was the perfect day to make the journey up to the only Tibetan Buddhist temple in Beijing.
It was huge. The blurb explained that this place wasn't touched during the the "so-called Cultural Revolution" (that's a direct quote). I'm not sure why, exactly, but I think it has something to do with it's relationship to the emperors of China. They built it. Or one of them did. But several of them used it.
Temples are a series of rooms with statues of different buddhist deities. I didn't realize that buddhists worshipped the buddhas, but they do. There were Chinese people kowtowing everywhere. Each little "shrine" had an explanation of how many sticks of insense were proper to offer to the gods. And outside they had little vats of fire to light them.
The centerpiece of this temple is an 18 meter high statue of the buddha. But the most interesting part was the monks chanting the sutras. There were about 50 monks in marroon robes sitting in a candle lit room chanting from their scriptures. It was pretty moving. In addition, little Chinese people were sitting behind with their prayer beads anxiously hoping to gain some of their enlightenment. Taking pictures in temples is considered bad luck, so I can only describe it in insufficient words. And, frankly, I don't know how.
I spent a couple of hours wandering around the different temples contemplating the culture, the scent of burning incense buoying my thoughts. One monk was laying prostrate before each god in each of the 14 shrines. I followed him for a little while. I think he thought I was weird.
It's often said, but I will repeat it, religions across the world are similiar in a lot of ways. The people offering incense reminded me of lighting candles in Catholic churces. The prayer beads reminded me of Rosaries. The chanting monks reminded me of chanting monks. In essence, there really are many paths to the top of the mountain. And, it seems, there are many paths already carved.
And I ended the evening by cooking dinner for Chris and his wife, Christina (I don't know her Chinese name). I made red beans and rice, the old standby. We had a great conversation, and they helped me close the windows that were being stubborn AND make my air conditioner blow heat.
Hopefully my sleep tonight will aided by new found warmth of mind and body.
