Schell of a Man

On Tuesday, November 1, after I finished teaching my morning class, Jessica and I made the hike to the top of the Lufeng Temple, located on the top of a tall hill (small mountain) just outside of Shaoxing. We set out from our base camp at Starbucks around 2 pm and caught the Number 2 bus to the end of its line, which is at the foot of the hill. We then caught a shuttle up a little ways up the hill to the entrance of the monastery. This was my second visit to the monastery. I was there a few weeks before with Bryan. The monastery is very exotic with its temples filled with large statues of kings and Buddhas, as well as the sound of voices chanting to clashing cymbals. All the air smells of incense, and there is the occasional monk walking around in his orange habit. It is exactly what I thought a Buddhist monastery would be like.

As we followed the stone path that led past the monastery and into the hills the terrain continued to get steeper until we were simply climbing steps up the side of the small mountain. I don't know how many steps there are, but it took about 35 to 40 minutes to reach the top. Some of the other foreign teachers said it took them nearly two hours so we must have been going at a good clip.

I would categorize the climb in three different segments: the first is the thrill of the climb. You look at the top of the hill and almost don't believe you are really going to reach the top, but you are excited to be on your way, climbing steps. The second part is the lull. It hits after you stop at the first pavilion to take a break and drink some water. Your legs are a little shaky and your lungs burn a bit. You look down and it doesn't seem like you have gone very far up and it is still a long ways to the top. You continue to climb but don’t seem to go anywhere. It's the worst part. Conversely, the third part is the best. Once you reach the top of the first hill you must continue along the crest another couple hundred meters to the hilltop temple, but this is a beautiful hike that affords a beautiful panoramic view of the city and a lakes around it. You are still climbing up, but barely notice.

As we climbed, I tried to explain to Jess how I think of climbing this mountain as a kind of metaphor for most challenging experiences in life: at first you are excited to be doing it, even the hard parts (especially the hard parts); then you hit the lull, (everything is painful and seemingly without purpose or profit); finally, you are at a place to see how far you've come even while you are still in the midst of it. Perhaps I was a bit off or trying too hard to seek out these little object lessons in life, but it seemed to make a lot of sense to me at the time.

Towards the top of the hill there is a tall pagoda, which is securely locked up, but still provides some pretty cool vibes. Just beyond it, on the top of the mountain sits a temple, which seem to balance on the peak. Walking up the last few steps you enter a dark concrete hallway that takes you through the center of the relatively small structure and out onto large terrace with three different binds for burning incense and candles. To the right and left there are small areas with altars and several different sized-statues. The aura of the place is one of quiet repose and immense beauty. It cannot help but cause you to stop and reflect a while. Both times up there, I took time to burn some incense and spend a little time in quiet reflection.

Jess and I were up there on a Tuesday evening so it was especially quiet. We watched as the dusk slowly approached the city below. It was very peaceful to sit silently as the evening light slowly changed. One smiling monk tried to talk to us as we watched the landscape. The conversation consisted of me trying to say it was beautiful and him laughing and saying, "Mei Guo Ren" (Americans).

I think we were some of the last people to go that night. I was almost sad to leave the temple, though I am sure I will be back again soon. I can see the outline of the hill, pagoda, and temple from my classroom window, and I often look out during class and wish I could be back up on the hill with the rest of the world so far away.