The Bell

It was dusk.

(The view out of the front of the monastery, notice the moon.)

I sat on a wood bench part of a circle of forty people in the court yard of a monastery with Woodenfish students and monks. The temple was located on the top of mountain above the noise and chaos of the Chinese cities which we could see below. We sat in a circle drinking green and black tea picked from the very hills around us. A sort of talent show was going on, first the monks would show off a skill, then a Woodenfish member would take a turn and try to match it. If there was any sort of competition, the monks won.

The first presentation by the monks was classical Chinese music on a historic instruments that I cannot identify. As the monk plucked the stringed instrument the notes seemed to wave over us and fit to the natural contours of the bamboo forest around us. Another monk presented a ti chi demonstration, which convinced me a human body can definitely learn to flow enormousness amounts of energy. When he struck the stone ground with his feet we could all feel it, even at a distance.

Our group did a song or two, and some dancing presentations. After there was a short Q&A with the abbot. I winced a little bit at some of the questions, luckily none of them were too bad. Not everyone on this trip has a Buddhist background -academic or practicing. Halfway through the session the monks began to ring the massive temple bell. One girl asked why the bell is rung, the abbot gave an answer related to making the sound of the dharma echoing throughout the universe.

Unsatisfied with the answer, the girl just asked the question again. The abbot sat for a moment puzzled by the question. He told the group to listen to the bell in silence for three minutes. It was probably my most favorite three minutes of the trip. We sat listening to the bell being struck, then hearing the ring slowly be absorbed into the valley bellow, then hearing the bell be struck again as soon as the noise faded beyond our ability to hear. This moment has added to my craving for a Buddhist monastic life, or something along the lines of life centered around practice. It was really great for the group, the rest of the evening flowed quite smoothly and it was entirely due to these three minutes of sitting.

When the Q&A ended it was dark, the bats fluttered overhead and the mosquitoes bit our legs. Rather than going to bed I wandered around the temple into the various shrines to observe the candle lit Buddhas. This was perhaps one of the most enjoyable evenings of my entire trip to China. Since everyone had gone to bed I was alone in all of these shrines, halls, and rooms. I think normally I would have been a little scared, it's kind of like wandering around a church at night. There was something about this experience though that was so warming. Gazing into these Buddhas among the incense and candles I could feel the pulse of samsara, a squeeze of birth and a release of death again, again, and again.

I could hear the bell even though it stopped being rung hours ago. I lied down in front of the main shrine on the cool stone and gazed at the candle lit Buddha. I tried to imagine what he saw, which is life as the way it ultimately is, and probably on a geological time scale. As Buddha stares out those temple doors out into the valley he must see cities go up and down, forest be cut and regrow, people come and go, die and be reborn.

And I, this silly "I," am obviously here for sometime more than any "I" can accomplish.