Empty the cup: My first week at Fo Guang Shan

July 1st

I arrived in Taipei, actually, but I arrived so late that my original visit to Tapei didn't seem to warrant a separate entry. I arrived at my hostel at close to one in the morning, and quickly fell asleep. The next morning, I ran into another Wooden fish participant, Tom, staying at the same hostel, and we got breakfast that morning; my pork wanton soup turned out to be some of the only Taiwanese meat I got to try. We then hurried to the train station in Taipei, where we met two other wooden fish participants. Three of us (Tom couldn't get a ticket on our train) hopped onto a train towards Kaohsiung. The two people I had met were very interesting. Ru Hui, the girl who had bought us tickets, was originally from Taiwan, but lived in the US. She wanted so badly to come, not only to learn about Buddhism but also to "rediscover her roots." Marty, the other person, was a math major from Canada, wanted to learn more about Buddhist spirituality. This was probably my first introduction to people wanting to participate for reasons outside of the intellectual realm.

Once in Kaohsiung, we got ourselves some dinner and desert. Once again, I ate some dumpling soup (the last of the pork!) and some amazing desert. It was almost like ice cream, but had a very strange texture, almost like shaved cocount, that immediately melted in your mouth. Mine was flavored with chocolate and strawberry. After about an hour, Tom joined us, and we all took a shuttle to the airport to meet the people taking us back to Fo Guang Shan.

Once at the airport, we met about 9 other participants, including another girl from Canada, a guy from a Buddhist University in Boulder that I never knew existed, and a girl from California who introduced herself as a "hardcore philosophy major." All the people seemed interesting, yet very liberal. I also realized that I would be in the minority in my cravings for meat: most of the people there were vegetarian.

After an hour of waiting at the airport, the head of staff, Danny, arrived to take us to Fo Guang Shan. A nun was driving the car, but didn't seem to want to engage in conversation; instead, she just gave us snacks. 20 minutes later, we arrived at the monastery. We were given our keys, and sent off to our rooms. One of my roommates was already there, a graduate student from Harvard Divinity school whose parents were originally from Hong Kong. We had some great conversations. My second roommate soon arrived, a cute southern bell from Virginia who practiced Christianity, but at her university studied religion and history. We had an interesting bond throughout our weeks at Fo Guang Shan. However, our bonding was minimal that night; we had a 6:00 wake up call, so we almost immediately went to sleep.

July 2nd

The sound of the wooden board woke us all up at 6:00 AM. This sound, after one month, managed to create a Pavlonian response in all of us: our roommates' snoring won't wake us up, but the dull thud of a wooden board and a gavel will make us jump to our feet. We lined up at 6:30 AM, completely dressed in our uniforms. Once we arrived on the first floor, we met Venerable Hui Feng. Ven. Hui Feng did not fit the mold of a typical Chinese monk, mostly because he was not Chinese at all. In fact, he was an incredibly tall and skinny pale man from New Zealand with a very strong New Zealand accent. He told us that he would be our disciplinarian for the remainder of the programme.

At that point, he seperated the guys and girls and had us line up tallest to shortest, an order that we would become quite accustommed to over the course of the month. He then told us that when we lined up every morning, we would line up in 2 strait lines, (using the floor tiles as our guide) guys and girls, facing each other . We would always have our bags, which carried our water, books, pens, and environmentally friendly cups, with the strap over the right shoulder; we would stand up strait, be silent, and direct our gaze at a 45 degree angle (almost to the shoes of the person in front of us). While this may seem overly structured, the idea was that these kind of ritual would become pattern, and therefore allow us to concentrate the mind on other things rather than the mundane issues of how to meet in a group.

We were then taught 3 Chinese phrases that for some people, would be the only Chinese phrases that they ever learned. Before we went anywhere, we were asked to "he zhang" which meant put our palms together; "wen xun" meaning to bow at our partner across the way; and "chu ban" or leave. This became habit as well. We were taken to breakfast, where we learned the morning chanting of giving and recieving merits before we were given the opportunity to eat. The breakfast was delicious, there was a buffet of Chinese food including steamed veggies and stirfried tofu, rice, porridge, and even toast with jelly, peanut butter, and chocolate spread. We hoped all our meals would be like this, but we later found out that lunch and dinner were eaten with the rest of the monastery in the large dining hall. We would get our experience with that later on.

That morning, we were first taken to the 5th floor of the Bamboo Lodge, our place of residence, where there was a large classroom. We filed in and had a seat; at the podium were two rows of seats with name tags for staff members and important people. Once we had settled, we were told that whenever a teacher entered the room, we had to stand, put our palms together, and then bow to them saying "laoshi hao" or hello, teacher (another one of the few phrases that everyone knew). After that, we were introduced to the abbot of Fo Guang Shan, Venerable Yifa, the programme director, and the staff members Danny, Merideth, Stephanie, Peter, Ben, and Brendon.

The abbot gave a great speech about why we had come, and what to expect. He also talked to us about the importance of compassion, joy, gratitude, mindfulness, and wisdom. One of the best quotes that he gave was "When hearing the story of the Buddha, many ask 'why did the Buddha leave such a comfortable lifestyle, leave the home he loved, in search of something he didn't know?' Many may ask the same questions about you." For many of us, coming to Taiwan to study Buddhism was a step out of the ordinary in many ways, spiritually, culturally, geographically, and physically. After the Abbot's speech, Ven. Yifa gave a speech to us, where for the first time (though not the last) we were given the advice to "empty our cups." The abbot then gave us small gifts (again the first, though far from the last) representative of the Chinese new year phrase "may everything go perfect for you."

Hui Feng then took us to the dining hall, where we were taught how to eat our strictly vegetarian diet. I hadn't realized before how ritualistic a simple thing such as eating a meal was. We were also given a glimpse as to how big Fo Guang Shan was as an organization. The dining hall was set up to fit 4000 people; we were told that during important festivals, sometimes meals had to be served in 2 or 3 shifts in order to accomodate everyone. We were all seated at large, thin tables facing forward. In front of us, at the outer edge of the table, were two bowls, the left one for rice and the right one for soup; a small plastic plate, and a pair of chopsticks. After we did the meal time chanting, we were to quietly pick up our chopsticks, first pull our vegetable plate near to us, then pull our rice at a 45 degree angle so that it was the right hand side of our plate, and our soup at a 45 degree angle so that it was at the left side of the plate. If we didn't want something (if we had an allergy or weren't hungry) we were to leave the rice, soup, or vegetables as they were, and then the servers would come around and take what we didn't want. All of this had to be done without talking, so we were taught certain gestures with our chopsticks to indicate more broth of the soup, half the rice, more tofu, etc.

The Guotang suprised me, because it embodied many concepts that the monastery advocates, even though it just was a place to eat. First of all, nothing is wasted. When their food is cooked, all of the food waste is saved, and then shipped to a pig farm to be used as fertilizer or food. Almost all of the food is donated, or bought with money donations (for example, almost every morning we were given fresh mango, which was donated specifically for us). All leftovers were also saved (we often had the same dish for lunch and dinner). Furthermore, it is a center of ritual. The concept behind the eating rituals is that if the mind is clear of distractions, or having to think about how to eat or ask for more food, the mind can meditate on deeper things. It was true, after a month, eating at the Guotang became habitual, and without being able to talk or really do anything else, my mind could easily think of other things. Finally, it was a test of reverence. 7 grains of rice were put out as offerings to the hungry ghosts at every meal. Also, we were taught to contemplate during meal time how much effort was put into just having the food so easily brought before us, and how we should guard ourselves against greed while also realising that food is necessary for sustainance.

After our tutorial on how to eat, we were given the opportunity to really try out what we had learned. We were ushered into the dining hall to eat our first meal together with the rest of the monastics. In front of us we found a bowl of rice, some bitter squash, bok choy, and two kinds of tofu. We also found a mild medicinal soup. The food wasn't bad, though it didn't compare to breakfast. We were then given a sweet green pea soup, which was very delicious.

After our meal at the guo tang (main dining hall) we were taken to the main shrine where we were taught to do walking meditation. We were told that excersize after eating was good for digestion, and for keeping the body alert. Furthermore, while walking, we could meditate, being completely aware of what was going on around us. We were to keep our mind alert, and focus our energy on the legs. We circumambulated around the main shrine three times, and then we did standing meditation. I really didn't enjoy standing meditation since the weather in Taiwan was very hot and humid, and we were all sweating like crazy as we stood in the overwhelming heat.

Before our next section, we were met by the former abbot of Fo Guang Shan and Ven. Yifa. She translated for him as he told us that he was concerned about us not having enough spending money, and that he wanted to make sure we enjoyed our time here. Therefore, he gave us all hong bao, or red pockets, a Chinese tradition for weddings, New Years, and birthday. Traditionally, hong bao are filled with money, and believe it or not, these were as well. The abbot had given each of the equivilant of nearly 40 USD. I was very grateful, as I had been concerned with money already, and I was a bit amazed at the generosity of the former abbot.

After lunch, we were taken on a tour of Fo Guang Shan. We were split up into groups, and our tour was lead by two nuns from the English Buddhist college by the names of Miao Zhang and Ru Gu. Miao Zhang stayed with our programme for the three weeks we were at Fo Guang Shan, and often served as our translator. She was tall, sweet, and had a very innocent voice. Ru Gu seemed to serve as her foil, as she was short, chubby and spunky. She was a very funny nun from Hong Kong who was nervous speaking English. They first took us to the "Great Buddha Land" which was a platform with a 40 meter tall Buddha surrounded by 480 life sized Buddhas. This large Buddha was one of the things that made Fo Guang Shan famous. We were also taken through a strange room that curved in a circle; the outer wall was covered with pictures of Buddhas, and the inner wall was made of mirrors. It gave one the feeling that you were completely surrounded by Buddha images. The Buddhas of the 4 directions greeted us as we came to the center of the building, and some people gave offerings to it. We then moved on to the next area.

Ru Gu and Miao Zhang then took us to the main shrine, where we saw three large Buddhas surrounded by walls of many more Buddhas, all with their own individual light. The center Buddha was Shakyamuni Buddha, or the historical Buddha; to his right (the viewer's left) was Amitabha, the Buddha of the western Pure Land, and to his left was the Medicine Buddha, the Buddha of the Eastern Pure land.

After that, we were taken to the Pure Land Cave, or Fo Guang Shan's interpretation of Amitabha's Pure Land. According to the sutra (or scripture), there was a Bodhisattva who cared so much about the world, and had accumulated so much good merit, that he wanted to help all sentient beings reach enlightenment. Therefore, he created a sort of "Buddha training ground," or a heaven that one could be reborn into where all you did was learn the Buddha's teachings. The idea was, once you entered the Pure Land, you were on the "home stretch"; you were on the path to enlightenment (the ultimate goal, or the end of suffering. This will be more explained later). All you had to do was say the name of Amitabha once, as an act of faith, and you could be reborn there (sounds easy, and suspiciously Christian-like, no?) This is why, at the monastery, everyone greets each other with "Omituofo," the Chinese version of Amitabha's name. It is meant to give people merit in which they can use to create these acts of faith. ALso, it is believed that the more you say it, the better off you will be (there were some that had tape recorders that played his name over and over). This is another reason for the repitition.

  The Pure Land Cave, however, seemed like a mix between Buddhism and Disneyland's It's a Small World. Animatronic children praised the Buddha, spinning birds sang the Dharma, and animatronic people stood in a circle and sang songs. You traveled on lilly pads across a river to pass by all of the scenes that apparantly was a very literal translation of the scriptures about the Pure Land. For instance, for the line "the Buddha lies within you," there was a statue of a man who's stomach had been ripped open to reveal a tiny Buddha sitting in his intestines.

After the Pure Land Cave, we walked to the English Buddhist College, where we were shown the library and meditation hall. This was particularly exciting for the nuns, as this was where the spent most of their time. The English Buddhist college was not entirely for monastics, and in fact, many people who attended the college never became monastics. Furthermore, the college was very international, including members from India, Sri Lanka, Hong Kong, Philippines, and Canada. The students spent 4 years learning the Buddha's teaching (Dharma) as well as science, English, psychology, and literature. After the college, we were taken to the main meditation hall, a place that we would spend a lot of time in throughout the programme.

AFter our tour, we were taken to dinner, where we were given tofu and mushrooms, more bok choy, and an orange flower that many of us still don't quite know where it came from. We then had an evening class about evening chanting, and were then sent off to bed for our next day. It seemed as though we had been given information overload, but we had only scratched the surface.

July 3rd

We were woken up at 5:30 this morning , and we lined up at 6:00 for morning Taiji. Our Taiji instructor was a cute little woman who taught us all 10 steps of the type of Taiji we would be learning (there are 10 different types altogether). We were all pretty awful at it. However, by the end of the month, it came to be our favorite part of the day.

We were then brought to our special dining hall for breakfast (we would all dearly miss the toast with chocolate bread and sprinkles), and then we were given a short break. Afterwards, we lined up once again at 7:55 to go to the meditation hall for our introduction into using the area and meditation in general.

The meditation hall was on the third floor of a larger building which also held the Buddha's tooth relic and the Fo Guang Shan museum. After climbing numerous flights of stairs, we came to the entrance of the meditation hall, where our exhausting 3 hour class began.

The meditation hall instructors, translated by Ven. Hui Feng, explained first the entrance to the meditation hall. There were three doors of entry, which served a variety of purposes. First of all, the middle door was used for only the abbot and the Venerable Master Xing Yun (the founder of Fo Guang Shan). No one else was supposed to enter the middle doors; it was a symbol of hierarchy. Furthermore, the number "3" held a very significant meaning in Buddhism, as it represents the three cornerstones of Buddhist faith: the Buddha, the Dharma (or the Buddha's teachings) and the Sangha (or the congregation of the monastery). We would see that almost all things used in a monastery had symbolic meaning; some examples include the monastic shoes (which has 6 holes, representing the 6 perfections of an enlightened being) and the music (at night, the bell is rung 108 times, which is a number that has a significance I can't remember).

Also outside the door is a sign that has two sides. One side welcomes onlookers to enter the meditation hall and look or freely use it. The other warns others that the meditation hall is currently being used, and thus no one should enter. Unfortunately, this sign was not used very effectively, as tourists entered the meditation hall during a meditation session countless times during our 7 day retreat.

After this rather long introduction, we were welcomed inside the meditation hall, and we were taught about how the meditation hall was run. The meditation hall can hold up to 400 people at a time, seated on comfortable brown cushions. The meditation cushions circumscribed a hardwood area used for walking meditation, which then circumscribed a small shrine to the triple gem (the Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha). On this shrine was a Buddha image, some Buddhist texts, and a portrait of the founder of the meditation hall, representing the Sangha. We were also shown a smaller meditation hall meant to hold 100 people, which the brown cushions for sitting meditation, and small cubbies for sleeping. The meditation hall instructors then invited us to take a 10 minutes nap.

After that, we were given an introduction to the instruments and signals used in the meditation hall. In a monastery, and especially in a meditation retreat, words are used sparingly; instead, a series of instruments are used to indicate what the practitioners should be doing. They use a wooden fish, a wooden block, a xiang ban, a gong, and a small hand bell.

First an introduction to the wooden fish. It is an instrument with again, many symbolic meanings. First, it produces a hollow, low tone, meant to clear the mind yet keep it alert. Also, the fish has many meanings. A fish is an animal that never closes its eyes, even when it sleeps; we should thus strive to be like that, constantly alert. Furthermore, the woodenfish carries the iconography of a dragon, an auspicious creature representing fortune and keen observation. Three strikes of the woodenfish are used to start a session.

The wooden blocks are much sharper in tone, and are meant to warn people when a session is about to start. The wooden block is not only used in the meditation hall; it was used to wake us up in the morning, and is also used to announce meal times throughout the monastery. In the meditation hall, the board is struck 24 times slowly when we have 10 minutes before the next session, 24 times a bit faster when we have 5 minutes, and a final 24 times when we must all be in our seats ready to start.

After the wooden board is struck the final 24 times, the xiangban becomes important. It is a long narrow stick shaped like a sword, and is a symbol of discipline. The reason it is shaped like a sword goes back to the Qing dynasty; one of the Qing emperors in China gave a monk 7 days to become enlightened, or he would be killed, and he hung a sword on the wall as a reminder of this deadline. From that time on, the xiang ban took the shape as a sword. Normally, when a person is not alert during a meditation session, or breaking rules, he is hit with the xiangban in order to wake him up and relx his muscles. However, because we were westerners and there was a fear of being sued, they lightly tapped us with the xiang ban if we fell asleep. Also, during walking meditation, the xiangban was often hit on the floor to remind us to stay alert and walk faster. One year, the meditation hall instructor hit it so hard on the floor, it snapped in two.

The bell and the gong were of less importance, they were used to begin and end the day. The bell indicated when we were to bow at the Buddha, and the gong began a ritualistic bowing that was done only by the meditation master.

After this very long introduction, we had little time to actually try meditating, so we only had a short 10 minute session. But we had plenty of times to try meditating after that. After that exhausting class, we went off to lunch, where we ate mashed potatoes mixed with fruit (a strange, but surpisingly good combination).

After lunch, we had a class on Buddhist music, where we were taught the instrumentation behind the daily chanting. Chinese Buddhist chanting is interesting, because they only use a small amount of percussive instruments, most of the songs are sung a capella. Furthermore, there is often not a set melody, people sing up and down in waves and create harmony amongst themselves. Our staff performed for us the heart sutra, which would be the evening chanting that we did every night following this presentation. They then had us try it, and I was given the small handbell, which indicates the timing of the bowing and prostrations. I was pretty terrible at it, actually, and it was quite embarrasing. When they later asked for volunteers to perform the evening chanting, I was not one of the first people to raise my hand.

After that class, we had a couple of hours to do introductions of ourselves, and talk about what we might want to do for our personal projects (or a small research project we ourselves conduct and then present). I enjoyed listening to the various reasons people wanted to attend this programme, which spanned from wanting to learn about meditation, wanting to explore Buddhism, wanting to practice Chinese, wanting to learn about how to deal with death, and wanting to check into the stereotypes presented about Buddhist monks in Chinese soap operas. One girl was from Taiwan, she actually wanted to come to practice her English. I also learned how international the programme was, with people from Australia, New Zealand, South Korea, Taiwan, mainland China, England, Canada, and Hungary.

The introductions ended, giving us about an hour to rest or do laundary. I have never done laundary by hand, so it was a new experience for me, trying to scrub my clothes while trying to keep the bugs and mosquitoes off of me.

We then had dinner, a meal of tofu and veggies, and then another short break. Our evening class that day was a "monastic fashion show," which all of us had been eagerly awaiting. The purpose of the class was to teach us what all of the different outfits meant. They introduced us to the Haiqing, which is a long black robe with sleeves almost down to the floor. This is used in ritualistic practices, such as eating and chanting. Anyone can wear the Haiqing. Over that, people wear a Manyi, which is a half robe (similar to the robes worn in Thailand, and the ones we often see on Buddhist statues). The lay Manyi is all made up of one piece of cloth, whereas the Manyi worn by the monks and nuns are made up of 7 sewn together pieces, sybolising the fact that all of their livelihood comes from donations of the sangha (or pieces of the community). During ordination ceremonies, the Manyi are bright orange and are composed of 9 pieces, and the Abbot's Manyi is red, and made up of 25 pieces.

We were also introduced to the everyday robe colors; the brown ones worn by already educated monastics, and the black ones for students. Only monastics can wear these robes (they look similar to the Haiqing, but the sleeves are much shorter). One can also tell a monastic by whether or not their heads are shaved.

This day was very informative, and helpful for allowing us to understand the ritual of the every day life in the monastery. More information, however, would soon follow.

June 4th

The morning once again began with Taiji, walking meditation, and sitting meditation. Our Taiji teacher began going over a few steps each day, to ensure that we were following along correctly, and that we understood the benefit of each step to the body. Sitting meditation continued to be difficult, and I realized later that that was because I didn't really have a sense of why I was meditating. That realization would come later.

That morning, we had one of the best lectures we would have all month long. Our lecturer, an independent American scholar doing translation work at Fo Guang Shan, was a wealth of knowledge, and fun to listen to. He gave us a quick explanation of Buddhist cosmology (if you are interested, let me know, it is too complex to write it all out here). This was key not only because of the complex Hindu mythology, but because it introduced key assumptions about Buddhist views and goals. Buddhists believe in rebirth, that we will be reborn either as another human, animal, or possibly in hell or in heaven. But this cycle is always changing and impermenent (you won't stay in heaven forever). The goal in Buddhism, instead, is to escape this cycle, because inevitably, it will always cause suffering and grief (heaven will end sometime). It is through meditation and understanding of the world that we can reach enlightenment, or escape the cycle of rebirth. This is a very vague summary or Buddhist beliefs, which I hope will be illuminated more as my blog continues.

The lecture then moved to art history, demonstrating how Buddhism changed over time in China, and how the artistic expression is indicative of that. Especially interesting was the history of the swastika (which had represented the sun and good fortune for nearly 5000 years) and the 32 marks of the Buddha (including imprints of wheels on his feet).

Our lunch that day included my favorite soup, a corn chowder, and green beans, which I taught myself to eat. This was the first day that we were introduced to the other kinds of camps going on at Fo Guang Shan at the same time, mainly the camps for young children. They sat behind us, and it was so neat to see them put their hands together to chant. During lunch, the abbot (one of the 2 people allowed to talk during meals) gave them lecture on being thankful for the food in front of them, and to not waste. He also advised them to take these lessons back to their home once they left. It reminded me a lot of the Christian camps I used to attend.

Our afternoon class was one of the many Fo Guang Shan propoganda classes we had to sit through, where a lecturer taught us for two hours the literary achievements of Fo Guang Shan. This includes a daily newspaper (weekly in America, as it has to be translated) 20 or more books, and a vast translation work of Buddhist scriptures or sutras. These books are rarely bought, but instead donated to various government, educational, and religious institutions. Fo Guang Shan is very dedicated to education (as can be seen by their numerous educational facilities) and they see that donating books is giving the gift of knowledge. We were also taught of the various service projects going on aroudn the world, including humantarian programmes in Papua New Guinea (a joint effort with a group of catholic nuns) educational programmes in Brazil for homeless children, and flood relief in the Philippines. This, we all realized, was an attempt to demonstrate how Fo Guang Shan is a leader in humanistic Buddhism, or a Buddhism that attempts to help the community and give back in compassion. While we all wisehd we could get more balanced and unbiassed views of the development of Humanistic Buddhism, it was nonetheless good to see Fo Guang Shan in action, actively trying to bring about change in the world.

Our free time that day was set aside for community service, which for half of us (me included) meant cleaning and sweeping some cement steps behind one of the buildings. After 2 sweaty hours of sweeping and mopping, we were taught how to make incense cones for the Bodhisattva vow ceremony. This ceremony, exclusive to Chinese, Korean, and Japanese Buddhism, is for practitioners who vow to not only reach enlightenment, but also bring all sentient beings with them. These beings who make these vows, called Bodhisattvas, are much more emphasized in Mahayana Buddhism (the kind practiced in China, Korea, and Japan) than in other sects of Buddhism found in Southeast Asia.

When monastics take these vows, they burn insence on the top of their heads, making anywhere from 3 to 18 circular marks on the top of their bald scalp. I asked one of them if it hurt, and they told me it did not hurt at all. During the ceremony, they are in deep meditation, and thus they do not feel pain. I have a feeling that if I burned incense on my scalp, it would hurt a lot. I guess that is why they meditate so often, just to practice.

That night, we had a lecture by another leading member of the Fo Guang Shan monastic community, which echoed many lectures before, stressing the importance of compassion and diligence. He gave us all a small key chains in the shape of a pig, which also served as small bells. He told us that he once gave this keychain to a small child, who, by turning it sideways, saw a woodenfish. He explained that we can see things in many different ways, and that the way that view them can change our actions. He then challenged us: "Will you be the lazy pig, or the woodenfish?" After that evening, we all went to bed.

July 5th

After our typical morning of Taiji, walking, running, and sitting meditation, we ate breakfast and prepared our tea and coffee to sit through our 3 hour morning class. This was, again, one of the better lectures we had. One of the students, a woman from Australia, began our class by letting us sleep for 15 minutes (which we all appreciated) and then gave us a lecture on Buddhist fundamentals. This introduced to us the cycle of rebirth, the 6 realms we can be reborn into (basically animal, human, two different hells and two different heavens). There was then an explanation on how life is always suffering since nothing lasts forever, and how the goal is to escape the constant suffering of this world. To do this, we must seperate our attatchments to this world, including our attatchments to likes, dislikes, even our own body and soul, and to realize that nothing is permenent. We must also stop looking at the world in dualistic ways, such as big, small, good, bad, forever, fleeting. Only when we begin to see the world for what it really is can we escape our suffering, and thus reach enlightenment.

After our lunch of tofu curry (which began my never ending battle with keeping my uniform clean) we had another 2 hour session in the meditation hall. There was little lecture today, only two sitting sessions and a walking session. It was still a painful process for most of us, as almost everyone had back aches, leg aches, or their foot constantly fell asleep. One girl finally asked "can there be permenent damage from your leg constantly falling asleep?" Our New Zealand disciplinarian, Hui Feng, assured us that all the monastics went through the same pains, and they turned out just fine. We also got to try tea meditation, which I volunteered to help serve. I was lucky to get this opportunity, since during the meditation retreat, I got the same job for community service (and those who had to clean toilets were not happy that I only had to serve tea).

As today was our first day that we were allowed to use the computer lab, we didn't have any community service requirements. It was nice to get back in touch with the outside world. We then had dinner, which brought me back to monastic reality, when I took in a dish I thought was tofu in soy sauce, and it turned out to be bitter bamboo soaked in vinegar (or something like that). Whatever it was, I found myself gagging at the table as I attempted to choke it down. Fortunately, the girl next to me saw my problem, and I begged her to take my food. She liked the dish, so she secretly moved her plate over, and I put it on her dish. I was very grateful to her for that, and later that month, she got something she hated, and I happily repaid my debt and ate that for her.

After dinner, I had about 20 minutes before I had to go to my first Chinese class, so I began wandering through the nearby garden, talking to the small caged up birds that said "omituofo" and "ni hao" (meaning Amitabha Buddha and Hello, respectively). I then began talking to one of the nuns who saw me, and once she learned I could speak Chinese, we chatted for awhile as we walked around the garden. One of my favorite parts about being in the monastery was this kind of opportunity, to interact with the monastic community.

Our first Chinese class was a lot of fun, and definately helpful, as I was probably the worst speaker in the class. We all had different strengths and weaknesses, so she attempted to play to what seemed like the biggest problem we all had: writing. Thus, our Chinese class for the next two weeks consisted mostly of lessons in roots of characters so as to build our ability to construct and decipher characters. Our teacher, Venerable Miao Zhong, was a friendly, amiable nun, who really loved to talk and teach. We came to adore her by the end of the two weeks.

Our evening class was another lecture given by one of the important venerables, this time on greed, anger, and ignorance, or the three poisons. It is believed in Buddhism that our greed and our anger stem from ignorance, yet also feed our inability to see the world as it is. Our ignorance to see the the non-dualistic, impermenent nature of the world causes us to behave in certain ways; thus, by not seeing our need to detatch ourselves from the impermenent things, we feed greed, and by not seeing the importance of compassion, we feed anger. These poisons then recoil back to feed our ignorance.

He gave us a story to demonstrate this idea of anger. He told the story of a little child who asked his parents "why do wars start?" The mom told him it was because of misunderstandings among people fed by anger, much the same, she said, as the mom and dad themselves. The dad then took this personally, demanding she took that sentance back; the mom, feeling attacked for merely giving an example that she equally took fault in, pointed out his faults in this simple argument. The fight escalated to a breaking point, when the child said "never mind, I see how wars start." This is just one of many stories that show our need to understand our own actions, and think before we act so that the poisons don't infest us.

July 6th

Another typical morning; after breakfast, our first morning class took place in the meditation class. This included more lecture, and even an introduction into yoga. Our first session after the yoga showed us how much more comfortable sitting is once we had stretched. We also had tea meditation once again. We were told the story of a Chan monk who answered every question from his disciples "go drink tea." Even when his disciples got frustrated and asked "why do you answer every question with 'go drink tea'?" And the monk answered "go drink tea." We also got to do running meditation, which was both intense and exhilirating. The monk would take the xiang ban, bang it on the floor sharply, and scream "RUUUUNNN! Faster!" Then, once our adreneline was pumping, he would sound the wooden fish, and we would all come to a dead stop, feeling all the movement within our bodies. He then said to us "That is how fast life is. How will you deal with it?" That really hit me, that every moment in life comes and goes so quickly.

After lunch, we had a class by Ven. Hui Feng, our monk from New Zealand, who attempted to give a lecture on various sutras and vocabulary necessary for understanding Buddhist philosophy and epistomology. He began with a history of how sutras came to China, where they originated in India, and how they were then translated. This class was a bit confusing and hard to sit through once we hit the terminology. Fortunately, after our class, we had free time again, and we were allowed to go to the computer lab to check our e-mail.

Our Chinese class was again, not necessarily very helpful in content, but helpful in the opportunity to learn obscure vocabulary and practice listening comprehension. Our class that night was another Fo Guang Shan talk about electronic texts that the monastery puts together so everyone can read sutra translations online.

That evening, we went to listen to the drum and bell ceremony at the women's college. Every evening, they have a drum beating and then they ring the bell before everyone goes to bed; likewise, a bell and then a drum wakes everyone up every morning. The bell is struck 108 times (another symbolic number). The nuns who perform the drum and bell ceremony take it very seriously, as their performance is a reflection of their dedication and meditation. The music is meant to aid the rest of the monastery in clearing their minds before bed. The bells were solemn, but monotonous; the drums, on the other hand, were extremely inspiring, as the performance was very incredible.

That night, on our way back from the drum and bell ceremony, we ran into some children who, upon encountering us, all said in unison "nice to meet you." However heartwarming this experience was, it was somewhat tainted by the lecture we were given afterwards. As we were sent off to bed, we were reminded that our behavior as we walk in line is a reflection of our dedication and of the programme as a whole, and thus we should not get carried away when others wave at us. While this may seem harmless, it dampened our spirits, as the children really made us feel wonderful. We were told that we were to remain silent until the next morning.

July 7th

The next morning, after Taiji and meditation, I felt very sick, and so I stayed in bed and slept until 3 in the afternoon. That evening during free time, and for dinner, we were combined with another programme for college students in Taiwan, and we all got together and made dumplings. It was fun to chat with the girls from Taiwan. They studied a variety of things, from English to Business. Their reasons for coming were also disparate. One girl I asked said she wanted to come to cultivate her Buddhist practice, as Buddhism was an important part of her life. Another girl I talked to said she came because her parents made her. This sounded suspiciously like Christian camps for teenagers back in America.

I had made dumplings before in Chinese classes, but many of my friends had never made them before, and thus decided to get creative. One guy made a "super dumpling" which was really 8 pieces of dumpling skin welded together to make one very large dumpling. Also, we had a fruit carving competition. Our group carved our watermelon into a wooden fish, and used the dumpling sauce to paint a swastika over our plate of dumplings. Needless to say, with our Buddhist symbolism overwhelming our food, our group won.

That evening, we had another class about Buddhist music and the CD's that Fo Guang Shan produced. The head of the music production center gave us a speech, and introduced Buddhist music as the "eyebrows" of Buddhism. She claimed that like eyebrows, we don't really NEED music, but without it, the whole thing just seems funny, kind of like a face without eyebrows. I would remember that metephor for a long time.