This post is the third in a series about a weekend spent at Haein-sa Temple. I encourage you to read the two earlier posts if you’ve not already done so.
Falling asleep at nine o’clock, after tea and chit-chat with the monastery’s head monk, was actually more easily accomplished than I would have thought. Since the arrival of parenthood I’ve been plagued with near-nightly insomnia which I generally endure via podcasts through my tiny but trusty iPod.
However, this weekend being one that I wished to take somewhat seriously and sincerely, I’d bravely left the electronics in the Hotel Geumosan. I lay down on my cotton mat and closed my eyes.
I’d love to report I slept soundly til the morning gong, but not so. What I did hear at midnight was the k-k-k-k of a sliding paper screen door from a couple of rooms over. Hmmmmm. Was someone not taking the male-female separate quarters seriously? Or someone else out for a secretive tryst? Or a cigarette? Or just fetching their iPod from the car?
Thereafter I slept on and off for the next few hours until the 3 a.m. *bong* resonated through the compound. All the females in my room (we were about a dozen closely packed bodies) swiftly went through our morning routines and assembled silently outside to be greeted by the head monk.
He counted heads — all present — and off we trotted, following the wavering yellow of his flashlight. This morning ceremony was similar to that of the night before — gathering to listen to the drumming and then moving on to the main temple. What surprised me at this time was the number of people already gathered there. Easily 50 or more people at the drumming and then another 50 at the main temple — not monks but other folks who’d come for the weekend.
Three bows, some chanting, and off we went again. Remember, Dear Reader, not one of us Anglos had any idea what was going on, nor could we discuss, nor were we really even able to exchange meaningful glances — eyes cast downwards when on the temple grounds.
Off we headed down a hill, the darkness pierced only by the light of two flashlights — one from the head monk who took the lead, the other from a monk who’d appeared in the darkness to bring up the rear.
Momentarily I gazed up at the sky. When was the last time I’d seen starlight from a mountain top? I tried to recognize a few constellations from this side of the planet — I don’t think it should have mattered — but then recalling it was pitch black outside, I thought better of my astronomical observations and confined my view to the thin threads of light coming from the pair of flashlights.
Down a hill, along a flat road, then back up a hill. Had I been here before? In the darkness I could not tell.
We arrived at a ring of black granite, looking gorgeously other-worldly in the starlight. We placed our mats (taken from the temple stay hall) at intervals on this mountain crop circle and it hit me — this was it. It was time for the bows. The mythical, mystical, much maligned 108 bows.
Now, Dear Reader, these are not your ordinary President-Obama-meets-Emperor-Akihito bows. These bows are closer to burpees than they are to the music recital/bend at the waist/thanks y’all for coming bend-overs.
I’ll attempt to describe:
Stand, ankles together. Squat, knees to mat, toes curled under, palms on mat at shoulder height. Uncurl toes, torso approaches mat, elbows down, head nearly touches mat, palms turn up. Palms turn back down, push up torso, stand up from squat. Repeat.
Repeat 108 times, 1080 times if you’re a monk. The number is an auspicious one, the number of attainments the Buddha made on his way to inner truth. The number of afflictions the human heart must overcome. The number of bows one must make, in the dark, on a cool ring of black granite.
And so we began. The head monk indicated we would bow after each clap of hands made by his colleague. He clapped, we bowed, we’d stand up. Clap, bow, stand up. Clap, bow, stand up. That was three.
I counted for a while, mostly to give myself a sense of how quickly it was going. It wasn’t going quickly at all. But after a while, probably two-thirds of the way through I got into the zone and when Bow 108 finally arrived I was wearing a good sheen of perspiration but I knew I could have gone on longer. Not to 1080 bows but a while longer.
Following the bows the head monk guided us in a few stretches as we lay on our backs and gazed up at the stars. But this was not the time to relax. The night was young and very dark.
We now were directed to sit cross-legged on our mats, hands on knees and begin our contemplation, our meditation. The speakers of Korean were given some direction on how to meditate, how to count the breaths, what to do when the mind wandered and I wish mightily I’d heard how the head monk explained it.
I sat, eyes closed, enjoying the still that followed the exertion. I relaxed under the absolute openness of the universe beyond. I thought of Homeboy and the Princess, their warm bodies still asleep far from where I was now, I felt myself drifting, feeling comfortable, I heard the monk walking nearby, I opened my eyes… YIKES! There he was, bending down, looking right at my eyes to see if I was asleep. Busted! I was lucky he didn’t smack me with his stick right then and there!
He did give me a couple of pokes however, making sure my now ramrod-straight back would prevent me from drifting off anytime soon.
Dawn slowly came upon us and with it the end of our time of contemplation and essentially, the end of the weekend. Was it already 6.30 a.m.? Had we really been up for three hours?
We returned to the temple, enjoyed some breakfast, then were told tengine something to do in our 45 minutes of ‘free time.’ I slept.
At 7.30 we gathered, officially toured the temple, changed our clothes, and were done. It was 10 a.m.
I departed with a great feeling of tenderness for the young men who devote their lives to contemplation and prayer. The temple lady remarked the day before that the monks often return to the cities to see what life is like. Then they know what to pray for.
I also find it interesting that I needed three posts to transcribe alll my thoughts and observations about the weekend. If you’ve slogged along through this all, thank you very much for sticking it out. I appreciate your time and indulgence.
And from the light in me to the light in you —
*bow*
Very nice. Susan and I went to hear Thich Nhat Hanh a couple of weekends ago at the Orpheum. It was mostly about Practice, so your posts are resonating here.
LikeLike