Petals from the Sky (23 page)

Under the moonlight, Yi Kong’s nicely shaped bald head seemed to glow with enlightenment. “Because lay people are constantly bothered by worldly affairs. They can never concentrate as deeply in meditation as do people who belong to the religious order.”

I blurted out, “What about…someone like me? If I were to become a nun, could my body be imperishable after I die?”

Yi Kong shot me an intense look. “Possibly…but only if you become—”

Just then, a shout pierced the quiet of the garden like the twang of an arrow shooting through the air. “Shifu! Shifu! Oh,
A Mi Tuo Fo
!” It was the young nun Enlightened to Emptiness. She dashed into the garden, gasping, sobbing, and wiping her tears with her sleeve. She tripped over the stone lantern a few feet in front of us, and fell.

“What’s the matter?” Yi Kong dashed to her and helped her up. I hurried to both of them.

“Yi Kong Shifu…no good…no good…” She kept swallowing her own words. Yi Kong lightly touched her shoulder and said, her voice that of a concerned nurse, “Calm down and tell us what happened.”

Her face flushed, with some blotches of white, Enlightened to Emptiness spat out in one breath, “Wonderful Countenance Shifu tried to kill herself!”

Although Yi Kong’s voice sounded loud and sharp, her face stayed calm. “How did this happen?”

“I don’t know…”

“Let’s go to her now!” Yi Kong took my arm and the three of us dashed out of the garden and sped to Wonderful Countenance’s—Dai Nam’s—dormitory.

Nuns crowded the small room—milling around, talking, crying, yelling, passing Chinese medicinal oil, towels, a glass of water. Yi Kong spoke authoritatively: “Please step away and give Wonderful Countenance Shifu fresh air.” She turned to Enlightened to Emptiness. “Call the ambulance, quick!”

Dai Nam was lying on the floor. Next to her lay a rope, numb and stagnant like a lifeless snake. Shards, like miniature mountain snowcaps, were scattered everywhere. It was the ceramic Buddha knocked over from her altar. Dai Nam had tried to hang herself. The realization hit me so hard that I felt my heart lose balance and plunge over a precipice.

I jerked back, then asked a young novice, “How did this happen?”

She said, “A Shifu was passing Wonderful Countenance Shifu’s dormitory and heard a loud shattering sound. She knocked to ask what happened, but nobody answered, so she broke in. She found Wonderful Countenance Shifu hanging herself, so she immediately took her down.”

The young novice pointed to the heaps of shards on the floor and whispered into my ear, “Buddha sacrificed himself to save Shifu’s life.”

Yi Kong knelt beside Dai Nam. I went over to kneel next to them.

“Wonderful Countenance Shifu,” Yi Kong asked very gently, “are you all right?”

Dai Nam opened her mouth, but no words came, only the sound of forced air. The red, snakelike scar on her face writhed painfully as if it were freshly gutted.

“It’s all right now, and you’ll be fine.” Yi Kong pondered for a few moments before she asked, very softly, “But why?”

Dai Nam repeatedly shook her head while lifting her hand to wave us away, then she closed her eyes.

A nun found a piece of paper on the altar and handed it to Yi Kong. I craned over her shoulder to read.

Shifus,

At twenty-five, I took my vow to be vegetarian so as not to harm any sentient being nor consume any stimulant to hinder my cultivation. But today I broke the vow I’d kept for twenty years. A lay woman offered me a turnip cake, which I gladly accepted and ate. Later I found out there was garlic, one of the five stimulants, sprinkled in the cake.

In my whole life, I have tried very carefully to keep my vows and I am very proud that they have never been broken for twenty long years. Now I am ashamed of myself. My contaminated body should not continue in this life.

Your servant in the Dharma,

Wonderful Countenance

Yi Kong whispered into Dai Nam’s ear, “But, Wonderful Countenance Shifu, you didn’t know there was garlic in the cake….”

Right then the ambulance arrived. When the two ambulance men tried to take Dai Nam onto the stretcher, she frantically pushed them away. So finally several nuns had to take hold of the stretcher and move her into the ambulance. Then we all followed the van to the hospital. Except for Yi Kong, we were all made to wait outside the emergency room. After a long time, Yi Kong finally came out with a doctor. We all felt relieved when the doctor told us that Dai Nam’s life was not in danger. But to make sure that everything would be OK, she would have to stay in the hospital for observation.

The next day, I went early to Kwong Wah Hospital to see Dai Nam. Enlightened to Emptiness was feeding her from a bowl of congee when I entered the medicinal-smelling room.

Dai Nam spotted me instantly; a faint smile came over her face. I put down the fruit basket I’d brought her on the bedside chest and said very softly, as if she were now my child, “Shifu, I’ve brought you some grapes and juice.”

She nodded. Enlightened to Emptiness put down the bowl and came to whisper into my ear, “Miss Du, the doctor says due to Shifu’s throat constriction, she shouldn’t talk for a while.”

The young nun went back to feeding her. When finished, she helped Dai Nam lie down on the bed. None of us said anything until Dai Nam closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Enlightened to Emptiness lowered her voice. “Miss Du, you’ve missed Yi Kong Shifu. She and the others have just left.”

Just when I was about to inquire about Dai Nam’s condition, the doctor came in. He examined Dai Nam’s neck, listened to her breathe, then read and signed the chart. When we followed him outside the room, he said, “The patient has hemorrhage and edema of the larynx, so she shouldn’t talk or eat anything solid for a while.” He paused to adjust his glasses. “Besides, she’s still emotionally unstable, so watch out for her and avoid saying anything she has to answer.”

After the doctor had left, I asked the young nun, “Is Shifu still upset over eating that cake?”

“I suppose so.”

After a pause, I said, “I’m sure you must be very tired looking after Shifu, so why don’t you go outside to get some fresh air, food, and take a rest? I’ll stay with her.”

“You’re so nice, Miss Du. Thank you.” The young nun smiled and turned to walk out. I watched until her back disappeared down the stairs before I went back to Dai Nam’s room. The real reason I had told the young novice I would take her place was that I wanted to share some tranquil time alone with my friend.

But Dai Nam remained deeply asleep and so, when Enlightened to Emptiness returned, I left the hospital and took a bus to Golden Lotus Temple. I wanted to continue my unfinished discussion of the Golden Body with Yi Kong.

Yi Kong had just finished lunch and was looking at some pictures.

“Have some tea, Meng Ning,” she said after I’d sat down opposite her.

I took the cup she offered, then told her about my visit to Dai Nam. Yi Kong told me not to worry, for the doctor had assured her that Dai Nam would be fine.

After that, Yi Kong continued to scrutinize the pictures for a few moments before she handed them to me. “These are photographs of the Buddhist stone statues and cliff sculptures I took in Sichuan a few years ago.”

I carefully studied the numerous Buddhas, Guan Yins, wrathful warriors, Buddhist attendants. “They’re beautiful. And very powerful, too. Even now I’m only looking at the pictures, but I can feel their
qi
emanating.”

Yi Kong nodded while she quietly sipped her tea. “It’s a shame that I don’t have time to go back to take more pictures and do more documentation. You see”—she handed me another one with a Buddha whose face was completely weathered away—“if we don’t do anything, in the future not only the face, but the whole Buddha will be gone.” She shook her head. “What a shame.”

“But there must be other people who are saving all these?” I asked.

“Of course.” She stared at me intently. “But they are either scholars whose perspective is purely academic, or Buddhists whose perspective is purely religious. It’s hard to have someone who possesses a balance of the two.” I’d be a fool to miss her hidden meaning. It was me, only me, that she wanted to undertake this project for her temple.

I didn’t reply. I stared at the jade green tea and thought of something else.

Then her resonant voice rose again. “Is there something on your mind?”

“Hmmm—” I looked up and met her all-knowing eyes.

“Meng Ning, you don’t look well. I can tell that something is bothering you, even the other day. If you need help, I’m here.”

I said, lowering my gaze to avoid hers, “Yi Kong Shifu, I’m…very confused.”

“It is natural to feel confused being alive in this illusory world.”

After some silence, she cast me another meaningful, yet softer, look. “I suggest you stay here for a while—do some serious meditation to clear your mind.”

I was surprised to hear this. “You mean—”

“You can come here and live with the nuns for a few days. The temple might help to settle your perplexity.” She paused. “And of course if you don’t like it, you can go home anytime. There’s no commitment.”

Seeing that I didn’t respond, she smiled. “Think about it, Meng Ning. It’ll only do you good. Moreover, during meditation, you’ll be under my supervision.”

To my surprise, considering that I’d never liked meditation, this time I instantly agreed. “Yi Kong Shifu, thank you for arranging this for me.”

“Don’t be polite.”

28

The Private Retreat

M
ichael had already called several times to ask about me, and each time before we hung up, reminded me to start preparing for our wedding. Yesterday I told him not to call for a while because I had to live in the nunnery for a few days to help Yi Kong with her museum project and to meditate. He showed disappointment but understanding. “I’ll miss your voice, Meng Ning. Please call me if you have a minute.”

I told Mother I was going to live for five days in Golden Lotus Temple to help with a big event to get donations for the poor. Had I told her the truth, that I was going to a retreat and would live like a nun for a few days, she’d have thrown herself into a state of panic, thrusting her pudgy finger at my nose and yelling, “Then you’ll shave your head and put on a loose robe and renounce the world. After that, desert your mother and leave her to die in loneliness and grandchildlessness!”

The next day I packed some simple clothes and daily necessities, then headed straight for Golden Lotus Temple.

Yi Kong put me in a small room by myself, close to the hall where the nuns slept. She told me that the main purpose of this private retreat, besides meditation, was to live with the nuns and to learn from them—their compassionate deeds, their rituals, chanting, and, of course, the Four Great Impressive Ways of walking, living, sitting, lying.

Only the first day here, I’d already felt a tinge of regret. So many rules to follow and so many rituals to learn! I wondered how Yi Kong and the other nuns could look so peaceful and detached all the time.

My first assignment, to my great disappointment, was to help out in the
Xiangji Chu,
the Fragrance Accumulating Kitchen, to prepare vegetarian dishes—tofu, tarot, yam, bok choi, fungus, gluten, seaweed, anything tasteless that you could name. Chopping up carrots, celery, mushrooms, and taro into fine pieces was very slow work for me. Enviously, I watched experienced nuns arrange the food on the dish to look like a painting—smoked tofu piled up to represent mountains, chopped mushrooms, rocks, and noodles, rivers. Or a visual
koan,
riddle—rice balls with swirls inside, symbolizing endless transmigration.

Before the meal, I had to wash rice. One time a senior nun made me rinse and rerinse the rice for more times than I wanted to remember—until the washed-away sand equalled that on the banks of the Ganges River!

She looked at me with a deadpan expression. “Until not a single speck of sand is left. Washing rice is actually washing our heart and purifying our mind. We have to rinse and cook with one mind and one heart. Only after that can we have our mindful lunch.”

She went on, looking even more serious. “Moreover, Zen cooking advocates three virtues: purity, freshness, harmony. That’s why we’re vegetarians. Because rich meat dishes confuse both our heart and mind, leaving no room for discipline and reflection. Not to mention the unnecessary killing of other sentient beings.”

Her seriousness and her eagerness to lecture impressed me, but they also made me want to giggle. With an effort to keep my face solemn, I asked politely, “Shifu, do you mean rinsing rice is actually a form of meditation?”

“Yes, of course.”

Now I couldn’t help but tease. “Then, Shifu, is there any sleeping meditation, mindful sleep?”

To my surprise, her answer was, “Well, of course.”

“You’re serious? How?”

“Simple. You go to bed, focus on your breath, and empty your mind. Not only that, you’ll fall asleep faster and more naturally and you’ll be freed from nightmares.”

But at night when I lay in my bed, my mind, instead of being empty, was visited by New York thoughts, like ghosts wandering toward me from eight thousand miles away.

Yi Kong asked me to meditate three hours at a time, both in the morning and afternoon. Every day she’d come into the room to burn incense, pay respects to the small Buddha statue on the altar, then sit with me. Sometimes, during the burning of one incense stick, we’d recite together the Heart Sutra or the Incantation of Great Compassion—to accumulate merit for suffering souls, dead or alive. Other times we’d chant—Praise to the Incense Burner, Praise to the Ten Directions, Fragrance for Discipline and Meditation, and, of course, the Heart Sutra—until I felt my mind being carried away by Yi Kong’s powerful voice, toward another level of consciousness.

Sometimes during our
zazen,
sitting meditation, when Yi Kong noticed that I was becoming restless or falling asleep, she’d wake me up and lead me in walking meditation. During tea break, we would enthusiastically engage in conversations about arts and Dharma. This always made me feel achingly nostalgic, remembering the years when my world had known no man, no Michael, no Philip, no Lisa, no love, no confusions, but only Yi Kong and her beautiful art objects, and, of course, the always trouble-free, compassionate Goddess of Mercy.

This retreat brought back all the pleasant memories of earlier years. I still felt very fond of the nunnery. Of course, I admired Yi Kong the most, but my second favorite nun was the very young Enlightened to Emptiness. She was so simple and innocent that I secretly wished she were the little sister I’d never had.

But soon my fondness for the young nun was tested. One day, feeling restless during meditation, I decided to visit Yi Kong. A few steps before I reached my mentor’s office, I took several deep breaths, smoothed my black robe, and tried to calm myself.

The door had been left ajar, and as I was about to knock, bits of conversation flowed into my ears.

A familiar young girl’s voice chimed, “Wow, this is a masterpiece!”

Then Yi Kong’s authoritative voice. “It’s skillful. But the face is too sweet. Guan Yin can look beautiful, but never sweet. Don’t forget that Guan Yin listens to the tears of the world and then reaches out to help. So her expression should be compassionate, slightly sad rather than sweet.”

I peeked in from the doorway and saw Yi Kong and, to my bitterness, Enlightened to Emptiness. A realization hit me—Yi Kong was teaching her to appreciate Buddhist art as she had me fifteen years ago! I could almost smell something bitter simmering in the air as another realization arose: Yi Kong seemed to be training Enlightened to Emptiness to be her Dharma heir!

Now Yi Kong was taking down an art book from the shelf and showing it to the young novice. The familiar voice snaked its way to my ears, asking the young nun the same question she had asked me years ago: “I’d like to teach you Zen painting; do you want to learn?”

“Oh yes, Shifu, I do!”

Though my decision whether or not to be a nun had occupied the very center of my mind, life in the nunnery was going on without me.

Feeling both sad and angry, I walked aimlessly for a while until I bumped into something lumpy and let out a loud
“Ai-ya!”

“Hey, watch out, miss.”

I looked up and saw a big-bellied man with an oily, vulgar face. I almost asked,
Mr. Vulgar, what do you think you are doing here in this nunnery?

We eyed each other suspiciously for a few seconds before we whispered a simultaneous “Sorry.” Then, to my utter shock and disbelief, I watched him drag his bulk into Yi Kong’s office.

When I was back in my room, my mind was still possessed with that man’s vulgar face and the question: what was he doing in Yi Kong’s office? Certainly not appreciating art objects. Then a realization hit me so hard that I gulped—he’s a big donor to the fast-developing nunnery! That’s why Yi Kong had to entertain him!

On the final day of the retreat, while I was helping the nuns to sew meditation cushions, Enlightened to Emptiness came and told me that Yi Kong wanted to see me. I followed her to Yi Kong’s office. My mentor was sitting in front of the Guan Yin picture, her face serene as usual. After Enlightened to Emptiness had closed the door and was gone, Yi Kong signaled me to take the seat opposite her.

After I sat down, she said, “How’s your meditation going?”

“Fine, Shifu.”

“I know you have never had a natural inclination toward meditation. But a lot of people don’t. So don’t worry about it. Just keep trying.”

I nodded. She went on. “I have another plan for you.” She paused to search my face. “That is, of course, if you like the idea.”

“What is it?”

“The temple will sponsor you to go to China. Remember those pictures of the stone sculptures and cliff statues in Anyue grotto in Sichuan? I want you to document them for our nunnery.” She shuffled some papers on the table. “And if we have enough money in the budget, we might even be able to publish your research later. We’ve already contacted the Circular Reflection Monastery there, and they’re very happy to host you. Besides, Enlightened to Emptiness will also go with you as your assistant.”

My heart sank a little upon hearing the novice’s name. So Yi Kong was definitely going to train the young nun to succeed her.

“So do you want to go?”

“Of course, Yi Kong Shifu.” It wouldn’t pay much, if anything, but it would be my first actual job as an art historian.