Yungang Caves, Datong, China (Photo: M. Griffiths)
A story in 6 parts.
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Journey to the North
Part 1
Dust
Tian
and his master hunched miserably under their robes in a small cave carved from
the brown soil of the hillside. Outside the wind swept vast clouds of dust over
the barren landscape, the light soil of north China parched and baked dry over
the thousand years and more since the air and water destroyers of the old times
had finished their work.
It
seemed to Novice Tian like a lifetime had passed since he left the monastery in
Sichuan with his teacher, Master Shi, to visit the great stone Buddhas of north
China and make copies of their designs. It was his first time away from home. He
sometimes feared that that they would never return to their monastery and the great
project to build the largest stone Buddha in China would languish uncompleted.
Beside
him he heard the chant of “Nan Mo A Mi Tuo
Fo”, repeated over and over again in Master Shi’s low bass voice. Master
Shi coughed. His cough was getting worse. He insisted it was just the dust and
the dry spring air. Tian worried that his master was unwell and the difficult
travelling was making it worse. Each time he pleaded with him to rest and seek
treatment Master Shi waved his concerns away with a calloused, sun browned hand.
“We have many li to travel yet, and I
mean to see this journey through to the end.”
While
his own lips silently repeated the same chant, Tian fingered the string of
rough wooden beads in his hand and his mind wandered from the fine particles infiltrating
every corner of his clothing and caking the moist membranes of his eyes, nose
and mouth, to the lush green subtropical growth of his native Sichuan in west
China. His tightly clenched eyes could see the colours of rhododendron flowers
in the hills, the bamboo that stretched several times his height into the sky,
the birds chirping as they flitted among the trees.
Master
Shi coughed again and Tian pulled his robe tighter around him. Master Shi was a
master sculptor and already erected a number of statues of Buddha in the
monastery north of Chengdu, the capital of the Kingdom of Sichuan. The abbot of
the monastery had decided that the monastery would create the biggest stone
Buddha in China. Bigger than the seventy one metre tall rock carving at Le Shan
to the south of Chengdu. It would a great achievement and something Tian could
devote his energy to for years. He enjoyed having something to do.
First
they travelled to the Longmen Grottoes south of the city of Luoyang, a trip of over
6 weeks. First by steam train to Chongqing, one of the few railway lines still
operating in all the six kingdoms. Then by boat down the Yangtze river. After
that they moved on foot north from the river as the autumn colours deepened and
the trees bared their branches. They stayed at Luoyang over the winter, making
drawings of the designs and copying documents that discussed the construction
of the statues. There were thousands up on thousands of statues within the fourteen
hundred caves, ranging from an inch tall to seventeen metres in height.
As
soon as the snow began to thaw they crossed the Yellow River, a small brown
trickle of its former self, and journeyed north into Shanxi. They stopped at Meng
Shan. The original head had been toppled in a war centuries ago and replaced by
the Red Dynasty, before it too was toppled by economic crisis, drought and
flood. Then they went further north to the Yungang grottoes, home to thousands
of magnificent statues from the hundreds of tiny images to the largest, a seated
statue of the Buddha Sakyamuni, nearly
fourteen metres high, carved into the
rock in the centre of the complex. They recorded the details of only the larger
statues, hoping to head south and west before the debilitating furnace-like heat
of summer descended upon them.
When
they finally left Yungang and turned south Tian felt a weight lift from his
shoulders. With each step now, he smiled to himself, home was getting closer. Home.
The monastery was the only home had known since he was six years old. His
parents had perished in an earthquake. A small bare room was not much of a home
perhaps, but for him it was adequate. The monastery provided all his needs and filled
his days with chanting and ceremonies and, under the tutelage of Master Shi, he
learned the skills of stone carving. He enjoyed the carving more than the
ceremonies but any thoughts of leaving the monastery he put down to the
delusions of ego. Soon, before his eighteenth birthday, he would sit the exams
to graduate from novice to ordained monk, and work alongside his master to create
the new great stone Buddha.
Master Shi told him often: “You will have the
opportunity to create a great work in the name of the Buddha. You are very
fortunate.” Tian glowed at the thought, yet the lure of his strange recurring dream
refused to fade.
As
they travelled south from Yungang the dust storm blew up and forced them to
seek shelter in an old storage cave abandoned many centuries before. They were
only two days from their final destination, the holy five-peaked mountain Wutaishan,
home to over one hundred monasteries and temples of all branches of Buddhism.
It
was dark when the winds slackened and the dust that blanketed the land settled
in its new positions, at least until the next storm. Tian lit a candle and took
his bowl to a small stream far below in the valley. He returned and to the cave
and passed the bowl to Master Shi. He watched him drink and steadied the bowl
when he coughed again. “Master must see a doctor in Wutaishan.” he murmured. Master
Shi again waved his hand in dismissal. “I have breathed rock chips all my life,
a little dust storm will not harm me.”
During
the night Tian dreamed of a small house surrounded by fields. It was an image
that recurred in his dreams often: a farm with crops ripening in the sunshine, a
woman’s voice singing, a sense of peace and happiness. He felt himself being
drawn to it, looking for the people that dwelled there. But he could not find
them. He often awoke with an agitation in his legs, an urge to get up and walk
as if to physically reach the place in his dream. He had talked with his teachers about it.
They suggested it was lingering desire for his parents, an image of his
childhood home. It would pass they said as he cleared his mind of distractions
and focused on the Buddha. The abbot was pleased and suggested perhaps it was
his personal vision of the Buddha’s Pure Land and showed he was genuine in
seeking the true path and he should set his doubts aside. Tian wasn’t so sure. But
then, maybe it was the long time away from home that was unsettling his dreams
again. Perhaps he missed the monastery more than he realised.
In
the morning they shouldered their packs and hiked south once more. The sun
shone bright in the sky air and Tian’s mood glowed with it. Tian walked slowly alongside
Master Shi. “I dreamed again last night. I think I miss the monastery. I’m glad
this is the last place we have to visit before we go home.”
Master
Shi shook his head. “Don’t be too quick to rush back.” Tian glanced at him with
a frown. Why would he not want to go back now? They had visited all the big
stone Buddhas and Master Shi had told the abbot they would return as soon as
possible. Shi looked at him with a small smile. “It is good to explore new
places and see the wonderful sights of the world. We should make the most of this opportunity.”
He winked at him. “We may see more than you ever imagined before we return
home.”
****
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