Journey to EmeiShan

What luck… Stanley opened the way for me suggesting I accompany him to his native home of Emei Town, 143 Km SW of Chengdu. The bus en route to Emei, traveled through a series of industrial villages, past a giant factory named “MILANO CERAMIC TILE.” Brief bus stops permitted a quick glance at colorful displays of earthenware and stoneware ornaments…

In Emei-Town Stanley visited his aunt, a Doctor of Chinese Medicine, and introduced me to some friends, among who were 99 years old grandma and her 3 times great- grandson. Instinctively aware of communication trouble, Grandma showed me how to warm my cold hands on the small electric heater beside her. Grandson, perhaps 12 years old was indeed energetic, appearing simultaneously protective and dictatorial towards his mom and dad…

Proud of speaking English he showed me his achievements in Chinese painting and calligraphy, and a substantial photo collection of basketball stars. Eagerly dominating the conversation he pounded me with sports questions, (fortunately) with little time left for my improvised answers…
After delays caused by invitations to a variety of eateries Stanley guided me to EmeiShan. A persistent urgency to travel to Lhasa denied me the extra three days required to reach the summit (3009 m.) and descend. Even so, in one of the many monasteries we enterd I experienced Emei Mountain’s spirituality.

The mist surrounding the Mountain was not the smog of Chengdu, Steep paths and endless stairs reached terraced gardens. I was aware of a scent of forest, of strange woods. Devotees lit candles in monastery courtyards and whether the monasteries were Daoist or Buddhist, did not seem a matter of great importance, they were holy places…

In one inspirational courtyard we linked with a winding single-filed cortege, a cortege at intervals escorted by a Buddhist monk. From time to time small bells rang and incense smoke reached the nostrils. Everyone was chanting. Before long I too repeated the mantra… “ AmiToFo…, AamiTooFo… AmiiToFo… AaamiToFo… AaamiiToFo… Follow me… Follow me… Follow me… Follow me…

Chanting in compelling unison the cortege stepped over the Temple’s threshold and continued winding through rows of golden-silk cushions placed on the floor… After awhile I began to feel as one with the devotees, we were as one facing each other on the meandering circuit, as one chanting… as one with the surroundings… with the mountain… with the Buddha…