Tag Archives: traveling in Asia

Fear & (Ego) Dissolving in Haa

29 Mar

Legend, mysticism, and historical facts sometimes appear to be one and the same in Bhutan. There are so many stories and accompanying evidence about the existence of incredible spiritual practitioners, the taming of demons, and hiding of relics that it is difficult to separate the purely fantastical from actual events. In my previous post, I shared the story about the phantom cell phone ring and strange photos/videos that appeared on my friend’s phone while we were inside the Khamsum Yulley Namgyal Chorten (KYNC) outside of Punakha. So, I had personally experienced inexplicable phenomena in the country and had a grasp for how stories passed on orally from ancestral generations of Bhutanese could possibly strain credulity. The day after our visit to the KYNC, we left Punakha and stopped first at Chime Lhakhang which was a monastery built in 1499 A.D. and dedicated to Lam Drukpa Kuenley (known as the “Divine Madman”) who was a Buddhist master and poet, as well as, fun-loving drunk and vagabond.

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Image of Drukpa Kuenley (the Divine Madman) and his “flaming thunderbolts”

Similar to the Senge Dradog manifestation of Guru Rinpoche, Drukpa Kuenley embodied the Vajrayana Buddhist tradition of “Crazy Wisdom” and wielded his own version of a flaming thunderbolt — a large wooden phallus. Depictions of phalluses and their ejaculatory flames are found painted on the sides of houses, or dangling like wind chimes from the rooftops of the village buildings surrounding Chime Lhakhang. Because Drukpa Kuenley employed an irreverent approach to his Buddhist teaching, he used the phallus as a way to force people to look at those darker aspects and truths of reality that society did not want to acknowledge. He was known to shake up unenlightened persons through his drunken sermons where he wielded the phallus for emphasis of his teachings. Apparently, his unique method of sermonizing also resulted in Drukpa Kuenley’s seduction of thousands of women who would seek his blessing. One of Drukpa Kuenley’s most well-known feats was his subjugation of a fearsome demoness who lived in Dochu La. After he had captured this demoness, he buried her in a mound upon which Chime Lhakhang was later built.

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Pilgrims in the courtyard of Chime Lhakhang

When I walked towards Chime Lhakhang, I saw a sign in English that provided a short history of Drukpa Kuenley and the monastery. The sign stated that Kuenley was born in 1455 and died in 1570, so he would have lived to 115 years old. I don’t know if this was his actual age or an exaggeration, but he was a Tibetan Buddhist mystic with an unassailable joie de vivre and the force of his personality could have extended his life well beyond the average lifespan of the time.

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Entrance to main temple of Chime Lhakhang

Chime Lhakhang consists of one primary building which is the temple room and it is surrounded by an outer wall of prayer wheels. I remember 2 immediate sensations overtaking me when I walked inside the temple: first, the charred smell of juniper and butter lamps; and second, the crisp, creaking sounds of the dark planks of wood on the floor. We were able to see the actual wooden phallus that Kuenley used over 500 years ago in his teachings. This same phallus is still sought after for blessings by pilgrims and others who come to Chime Lhakhang praying for health, well-being, and fertility. Based on the large number of worshippers at Chime Lhakhang and our guide’s own veneration of Drukpa Kuenley, it was evident to me that the Divine Madman’s legacy is very much alive in the hearts and minds of the Bhutanese today.

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In the land of smiles – outside wall of Chime Lhakhang

Our next destination was in the far western reaches of Bhutan — the Haa Valley.  As had been promised by our guide when we had first arrived in Punakha, when we returned through the Dochu La pass and came to a designated prayer flag area, we got out of the car, took a few minutes to seek a blessing for safe passage, and then fastened our own prayer flags (which we had blessed at KYNC) on top of a hillock.

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Fastening prayer flags

We then continued west for several hours until we reached the highest vehicle road in Bhutan at Chele La which is at a height of 3,988m/12,700+ft. We stepped out for some air at Chele La and walked through corridors of tall white mandihar spirit flags erected in memory of deceased relatives. The combination of the thick cottony fog and the fluttering of the flags produced an eerie, ghostly sensation which foreshadowed our upcoming stay in Haa.

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Mandihar spirit flags – Chele La

Haa is a rural outpost that primarily serves as a military base and training site for both the Indian Army and Royal Bhutanese Army. Since Haa is close to the Chinese-occupied Tibetan border, Bhutan has enlisted the support of its neighbor, India, in order to maintain a large army presence in the event that the Chinese invade Bhutan. Haa recently opened to tourists in the early 2000s, and at the time of my visit in 2016, there were only 2 hotels in the town. My friend and I stayed in a historical, 2-story farmhouse on the outskirts of Haa and we were dropped off there in the late afternoon. Our guide and driver stayed in one of the hotels. We walked through the surrounding area of our farmhouse and saw meadows, rocky creeks, empty shrines with glowing butter lamps, a strangely-shaped cow skull, other scattered bones, and no signs of people except for the distant, chilling sounds of a buzzsaw. When night fell and we returned to the farmhouse, none of the lights inside worked. I fumbled through the dark on the first floor of the farmhouse and somehow managed to find a fusebox. I instinctively flipped all the switches and –voila– we had lights which was a godsend since we only had a small flashlight and both the bedrooms and bathrooms were on the second floor. When we walked up the staircase to the second floor and found the bedrooms, a large cockroach or beetle scurried through the sheets of my friend’s bed. He ended up sleeping on top of the sheets as a result. During the night, the farmhouse seemed to come alive with various squeaks and thuds, and at one point, we both heard footsteps that appeared to come from the wooden staircase. I was too sleepy to investigate, and instead, held my breath in a mix of fear and anticipation of something or someone entering my room. However, nothing happened and I assumed that perhaps the caretaker of the farmhouse had walked up the stairs late that night in order to check on things. But, we never saw anyone at the farmhouse during our stay.

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Serene but spooky scenes at Haa

When our guide returned the next morning to pick us up, we mentioned the strange sounds and the issue with the lights at the farmhouse. He let out a chuckle and apologized, but then casually remarked that on the same day of our arrival, 2 Japanese tourists had also been scheduled to stay at the farmhouse. However, they arrived there earlier, took one look at the farmhouse, and then had demanded to stay at one of the hotels in town instead! They ended up staying at the same hotel as our guide who learned about the story through his chatting with the guide of the 2 Japanese tourists.

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Haa Dratshang/Lhakhang Nagpo (White Chapel) from 7th Century

Perhaps because of its remote location and possible poltergeist vibe, Haa contains some very interesting Buddhist sights. We first visited Haa Dratshang (also known as Lhakhang Nagpo or the “White Chapel”) which houses the monastic order of the Haa Valley. The grounds of the White Chapel were being renovated and the buildings had been scrubbed clean and were gleaming. It was hard to believe that the Tibetan King Songsten Gampo had constructed both the White Chapel and Lhakhang Karpo (the “Black Temple”) on the same day so long ago in the mid-7th Century A.D.

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Lhakhang Karpo (the Black Chapel)

When King Songsten Gampo descended from the mountains of Tibet and entered the Haa Valley, he wanted to initially construct 108 monasteries. He released one white pigeon and one black pigeon in order to scout locations for the first 2 monasteries. Where the white pigeon landed is where he ordered that the White Chapel be built, and where the black pigeon landed is where he had the Black Chapel built. We walked about a quarter of a mile to the Black Chapel which was not connected to the same complex as the White Chapel. The Black Chapel is actually gray in color and consists of one squat building which was unlocked for us by a monk. The Black Chapel was built on the remains of a lake and inside it there is a trapdoor that leads to where a lake spirit resides.

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Shek Drak hugging the cliffside above Haa Dratshang

From the Black Chapel, we drove slightly up one of the nearby hillsides and then did a short hike up to the cliffside shrine of Shek Drak. When we arrived at the shrine, we waited for a monk to open the locked door and allow us inside the shrine which contained an altar and prayer area used for meditative retreats.

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Cliff-face view of Shek Drak

While Shek Drak provided for outstanding views of the Haa Valley below, it was not the cliffside shrine I had come to see. My primary reason for coming to Haa was to see the Juneydrag (or Juneydrak) Hermitage which was a shrine shrouded in spiritual power and the home of a relic belonging to a dakini (Sanskrit word for “sky dancer” or a powerful female spiritual priest). This dakini was Machig Labdron who lived from 1055 to 1149 A.D. She was born in Tibet and traveled throughout the region and into what is today Bhutan. Machig Labdron not only mastered Vajrayana (Tantric) Buddhist traditions, but also spawned her own Buddhist spiritual lineage which took hold amongst her followers and was passed on through today.

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Image of Machig Labdron on rocks outside of Juneydrag Hermitage

The key aspect of spiritual practice that Machig Labdron mastered and taught is called “chod“. This intense meditative practice refers to the complete cutting off or separating of one’s ego from all attachments. The goal of this practice (as I understand it) is to disassociate oneself from the shackles and obstructions of the physical world by visualizing the dissolution of these mental chains, and then connecting to the emptiness of consciousness that actually binds everything. An interesting aspect of chod practice is the use of fear to heighten the intensity of the ritual. As a result, practitioners will seek out places like graveyards and other fear-inducing places in order to optimize their chod practice.

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Juneydrag Hermitage – 8th Century

One look at the precarious perch of Juneydrag Hermitage on the cliff overhead made it clear to me why Machig Labdron had sought this location for her meditative practice. This small shrine is built over a cave in the cliffside where Guru Rinpoche himself had meditated in the 8th Century. Two centuries later, Machig Labdron had climbed up to the same cave for her own solitary retreat. She had left behind a relic from her stay — her right footprint was imprinted on the sidewall of the cave. I was intrigued by the possibility of seeing this footprint and it brought to mind my previous pursuits of the Buddha’s footprint on the summit of Adam’s Peak in Sri Lanka, as well as, the 2 giant footprints I saw in Luang Prabang, Laos (see posts: “Sri Pada (Adam’s Peak) – Prologue” at https://wp.me/p2Bq4y-hZ and “Summit (or Fellowship Found)” at https://wp.me/p2Bq4y-ja; and post: “Leaving Nothing But Footprints” at https://wp.me/p2Bq4y-Lq). The veneration of these footprints in stone (petrosomatoglyphs) has a long tradition in Buddhist Asia. But, here at Juneydrag, was the chance to see a footprint that was not tied by legend to the Buddha himself, but to someone else. Yet, I couldn’t help think about how much of Machig Labdron’s story was fact versus fiction. Some stories about Machig Labdron say she was originally born as a male and then transformed into a female after studying and mastering the Vajrayana Buddhist tradition. Despite my possible doubts, I was on a mission to find out what was inside Juneydrag and so I headed up the trail to the shrine with my guide in tow.

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The hermit of Juneydrag emerges from below

After about an hour of zig-zagging on and off the trail, hoisting ourselves up rope pulleys, and climbing wooden ladders, we came to an entrance door that was locked. This door was not not connected to the shrine itself, but instead was part of an outer barrier built on a narrow part of the trail where it was difficult to climb around or over it. I knocked on the door and waited for someone to come. My guide rather quickly gave up and said sometimes the hermit who is the keeper of the shrine leaves to get supplies, or will not respond because he is in deep meditation. I decided to knock one more time and then yelled out “kuzu zangpo la” which means “hello” in Bhutanese. Miraculously, a figure clad in red flowing robes emerged out of small dwelling below us. It was the hermit. He wore a wizened face and seemed to be from another world. He didn’t say much as he unlocked the door and then whisked my guide and I towards the entrance of the shrine.

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Stepping down into the cave temple at Juneydrag

As we stepped down into the mouth of the cave, we passed by demon-like figures and Tibetan Buddhist symbols painted on the rock walls. The interior of the cave was very small, and aside from a few flickering candles, there was not much light. The hermit motioned me to go to the lefthand side of the cave and there it was: the delicate imprint of Machig Labdron’s right foot. It was undeniably a human-made foot imprint. I knelt and touched Machig Labdron’s stony toes 3 times as the hermit chanted. I then placed an offering of a few Bhutanese ngultrum (Bhutanese currency) at the base of the small altar inside the cave. My guide had never seen the footprint either, so he also made an offering and received a blessing from the hermit. There was a near telepathic energy exchanged between the hermit, my guide, and myself as we stood in this 1,300 year old space and our eyes bounced off the footprint to the gnarled rocky interior of the cave and to one another. I definitely felt a communicative bond and a sense of shared warmth between the three of us although we didn’t say one word.

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With the hermit of Juneydrag (2016)

When we felt it was time to exit, we walked out into the sunlight and I sheepishly asked if I could have a photo taken with the hermit. He agreed, but asked that I not share the photo. Since 4 years have now passed after my visit to Juneydrag and I have read that many of the hermits in Bhutan rotate between caring for shrines and temples all around the country, I’ve decided to post my photo with the hermit for the first time here. I do so only with the utmost respect and profound gratitude for this man and the disciplined watch he kept over Juneydrag. While I may never be able to have the spiritual discipline or capacity to practice chod, I have tried to be mindful of adopting the following lesson attributed to Machig Labdron:

Approach what you find repulsive, help the ones you think you cannot help, and go places that scare you.”

Though our visit to Haa had real moments of suspense and spookiness, it all made sense. There can be harmony between the power of fear and the quest for understanding.

The Calming Influence of A Giant

7 Feb

After I had journeyed through Tibet in 2007, I made a vow to myself to never set foot in the People’s Republic of China (PRC). My reasons for that are chronicled in my previous posts about my first-hand experience of the treatment of Tibetans and their vanishing culture under the oppressive policies of the PRC (click the “Tibet” heading under the “Categories” section to read those posts). Yet, even before I traveled to Dunhuang, China to see the Mogao Caves in 2016, I had already visited the PRC on 2 different occasions with the first taking place in November 2012. My 2012 trip was spurred by 2 things: first, China had embarked on a fascinating “re-branding” blitz that had begun during the lead up to the 2008 Beijing Summer Olympics, and second, my youngest brother was living in Shanghai and working on the design and construction of one of the massive new projects that was part of this “new China” — Disney Shanghai. I wrestled with the decision to go to China, but ultimately relented after convincing myself that the visit could provide me with insight into the attitudes and pulse of the upcoming generation there. In order to procure my Chinese visa, I had to have my brother write an “invitation letter” asking me to visit him in China and then I sent this letter along with an application fee and my flight arrival and departure information to the Chinese consulate in the U.S. While I was interested in seeing the soaring demand for consumerism and luxury Western brands in Shanghai, I had another destination in mind: Chengdu. So, after a couple of days getting acclimated to the frenzied pace of Shanghai, I was soon boarding a long domestic flight to what was once China’s western frontier.

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Wenshu Pavillion, Wenshu Temple – Chengdu, China (2012)

Chengdu was the 5th largest city in China at the time of my visit. This sprawling city sits about 2,000km (1,200 miles) from Shanghai and is located in the southwestern corner of China in Sichuan province. It is the last major city in this region of China before the mountains and the Tibetan plateau begin to rise and dominate the landscape. Chengdu is perhaps best known today for 2 things: food and pandas. There’s no doubt that Chengdu is the culinary capital of China with its fiery cuisine which features the spicy Sichuan peppercorn. There are thousands of hot pot restaurants where diners boil their own meat, noodles, and vegetables in a broth saturated with Sichuan peppers and spices. Additionally, the Chengdu Research Base for Giant Panda Breeding is about 20km outside of downtown. The sole purpose of this conservation park is to breed, nurse, and in some cases, release Giant Pandas into the surrounding forests.

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Bottle feeding Giant Panda cub at the Chengdu Research Base for Giant Pandas

Long before the gastronomy and panda craze, Chengdu was one of the “Three Kingdoms” that controlled China in the 3rd Century A.D.  Emperor Liu Bei had his palace in Chengdu and ruled what was called the Shu kingdom. His period of rule has been romanticized in important Chinese books and novels as a golden era of great learning, prosperity, and cultural exchange. Contemporary Chengdu is filled with construction cranes, huge buildings, and the city is connected by a  “flyover” highway where cars whiz above the city without the bother of traffic lights. A few key historical sights in Chengdu include the old district (called Jinli), the Tibetan quarter filled with raucous snooker halls, the Wuhou Shrine (Liu Bei’s burial mound), and Wenshu Monastery (originally called “Xin Xiang Temple”) — the oldest and best preserved Buddhist monastery in Chengdu.

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The Thousand Buddha Pagoda – Wenshu Temple

Wenshu Temple was built sometime in the 6th Century A.D. during the rule of Emperor Wendi of the Sui dynasty.  It is a large complex with multiple buildings and prayer halls. The most arresting feature of the temple is the Thousand Buddha Pagoda in the courtyard. In the 19th century, a well-known Chinese monk who had studied at Bodh Gaya in India brought back a fingerbone relic that is now thought to be enshrined inside the Pagoda.

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The Ten-Faced Puxian stupa at the Golden Summit – Mt. Emei, Sichuan province, China (2012)

Given Chengdu’s geographic location on the western frontier of China, it served as a natural corridor for the arrival of Buddhism into China. Buddhism is an alien religion in China. Confucianism and Taoism were long entrenched as the dominant philosophical and religious schools of thought before Buddhism began to spread from the Himalayas and deserts in the West to the populated Chinese regions in the East. About a 2-hour drive south of Chengdu is perhaps the exact location where Buddhism first took hold in China — Mt. Emei (Emeishan). This mountain is one of the “4 Sacred Mountains of Chinese Buddhism” and is where the Buddhist monk, Samantabhadra (called Puxian by the Chinese), first arrived on the back of a white elephant with 6 tusks. Puxian taught in the Mahayana Buddhist school and is viewed today as a Bodhisattva associated with meditation and spiritual practice.  The first Buddhist temple in China was built on the slopes of Emeishan in the 1st Century A.D. The entire Emeishan region is a UNESCO site and there is a lot to see. My goal was to reach the “Golden Summit” and visit the key temple complexes that dotted the mountain. From Mt. Emei, I wanted to travel about 35km east to see the largest pre-modern statue in the world which was an ancient Giant Buddha carved into a riverside cliff.  Because of the tricky overland travel and the non-existence of English in West China, I decided to hire an English-speaking guide and driver in Chengdu who would take care of the logistics for getting to all these sites.

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Walking up the icy steps towards the cable car station at Mt. Emei

It was late November and an early winter chill was in full effect at the base of Mt. Emei where we purchased admission tickets for a cable car that would take us up to the Golden Summit. The journey to the cable car station itself required a combination of riding a shuttle bus, walking up steep stairways, and being on the lookout for hyperactive Tibetan macaques. Going up these stairways was treacherous given the ice and people were buying special shoe covers from eager vendors in order to walk safely. There are over 30 Buddhist monasteries and temples spread around Mt. Emei from its base (Baoguo Monastery), mid-mountain (Wannian Monastery), and top (Golden Temple, Silver Temple). Of all of these, Wannian Monastery is one of the oldest and most eye-popping in its aesthetic and impact.

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The yellow Beamless Brick Hall of the Wannian Temple complex – Mt. Emei

In keeping with the traditional layout of Mahayana Buddhist monasteries, the Wannian Monastery consists of multiple buildings which include an entry gate, prayer halls dedicated to the Buddha and Maitreya (Future Buddha), drum & bell towers, assembly pavilions, library rooms, and monk dormitories. The most unique of these buildings is the “Beamless Brick Hall” which one cannot miss due to its yellow color and dome. There are no wooden supports or pillars inside this building which is constructed by brick and is likely based on stupa and dagoba designs found in India and Sri Lanka. Directly underneath the dome is an astounding bronze statue of Puxian that was cast in the 10 Century A.D.  Puxian is holding a teaching scepter and sits in a lotus flower that rests atop a 6-tusk white elephant. The statue is over 7 meters/24ft high and is the absolute focal point of all activity inside.

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Underneath the dome of the Beamless Brick Hall

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Bronze statue of Puxian from 10th Century A.D. – Wannian Monastery

When I tried to walk around the elephant in order to observe the statue from different vantage points, I noticed a group of Chinese individuals who were taking turns rubbing one of the back legs of the elephant. I could only interpret this as some kind of good luck tradition and noticed that the rubbed area of the elephant’s leg had eroded and was black. From Wannian Monastery, a shuttle took us further up the mountain to Jieyin Monastery which sits at an elevation of 2,540 meters. From there, we walked up another stairway to the cable car station. At this elevation, visibility was extremely limited due to thick clouds and fog. As the cable car started its way up, I braced myself for the probable disappointment that the Golden Summit itself would be completely encased in suffocating cloud cover.

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Above the “sea of clouds” with the Ten Thousand Buddha Temple in the distance – Mt. Emei

The cable car neared the summit within about 6 or 7 minutes and as it emerged out of the thick clouds, incredibly, my face was met by warm sunlight and I saw nothing but blue skies. The elevation of the “Jinding” (Golden Summit) of Mt. Emei is just above 3,000m (10,000ft) and in the distance way above the sea of clouds it is possible to see the tallest mountain in Sichuan, Mount Gongga (over 7,550 meters/nearly 25,000ft). As I began walking towards the main platform of the Golden Summit, I had to shield my eyes from the blinding golden temples and pavillions that were coming into view.  The summit platform itself was a fanatical sight of white elephants carrying the Dharma wheel on their backs, white trees, and in the center, a looming, frosted gold vision: the “Ten-Faced Puxian” stupa. 

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Walking towards the “Ten-Faced Puxian” stupa at the Golden Summit

The Ten-Faced Puxian stupa was built in 2006 and is 48 meters/127ft tall. Despite its recent vintage, there’s something magical about this statue. Perhaps the frost and passing mist that I saw around the statue added to its spectral quality, but I had never seen a stupa crowned with such a dynamic statue and was mesmerized. It was hard to pull my eyes away. At the base of the stupa, there was a doorway and when I walked inside I saw a statue of the Maitreya fronted by an altar area for prayer and offerings. The “Ten Faces” of Puxian represent the 10 virtues of truth that Puxian taught during his life.  Alongside the stupa are the Golden Temple and Silver Temple, and hanging on a cliff in the distance, is the Ten Thousand Buddha Temple.

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The Golden Temple & Ten-Faced Puxian stupa

After spending about an hour wandering the Golden Summit and marveling at the perfect blanket of clouds below, we made our way back to the cable car and descended down the mountain. My driver then drove us east for about an hour until we reached another UNESCO site — the Leshan Giant Buddha (called “Da Fo”).  While the Ten-Faced Puxian stupa is a masterwork of modern design, the Leshan Giant Buddha is probably the most stupefying single statue of the ancient world.

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Riverside view of the Leshan Giant Buddha – Sichuan province, China (2012)

This statue was built in 8th Century A.D. and is 71 meters/233ft high. I first viewed this colossus from a boat which takes visitors across an intersection of rivers to a waiting area directly in front of the Giant Buddha. Today, the rivers are tranquil, but 1,300 years ago, there were 3 mighty rivers that merged in the same spot and due to their whitewater rapids and rocks, boats were routinely tossed and thrashed like rag dolls. It was because of these concerns that a local Buddhist monk named Hai Tong began his quest to build a guardian statue that would be blessed and serve to calm the wild waters. He spent 20 years of his life trying to raise money for his project and was rebuffed at every turn until he finally gouged out one of his eyes in dramatic protest. Apparently, this desperate act did the trick and money for the project quickly poured in from regents and locals. Construction started in 723 A.D., and although Hai Tong died before the project was completed, his disciples faithfully carried out his wishes until the statue was finished in 803 A.D.

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Statue of Hai Tong and entrance to the spartan cave he lived in during construction of “Da Fo”

The entire Giant Buddha statue is made of stone except for the ears which are built from wood and clay was used to fuse the large head to the torso.  At one point, the statue had a roof over it to protect it from the weather and other elements, but this feature was destroyed long ago. The statue is thought to represent the Maitreya (the future Buddha), and alongside it are other smaller stone statues, tombs, the remains of an old temple, and a few pagodas perched on the surrounding hilltops.

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Eye-to-eye with the Leshan Giant Buddha

After our boat turned back to the dock, we drove across a bridge and arrived at the official entrance to the Leshan Giant Buddha where we purchased our tickets. The visit to the Leshan Giant Buddha starts from the top where the statue’s head rises just above the cliff plateau. From there, one must patiently and carefully walk down the “Nine-Turn Cliff” to get to the bottom of the statue. Signs in Chinese and English are posted warning visitors who suffer from high blood pressure, heart disease, or “old-age” not to walk down the Nine-Turn Cliff.

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Carefully descending the Nine-Turn Cliff

On my way down the Nine-Turn Cliff, it became immediately clear why the need for the warning. The stairway is steep and the railing that separates you from a likely lethal fall is not very high. To complicate things, people are haphazardly stopping all along the way to snap photos, rest, or chit-chat, so you have to be on high-alert for human traffic jams and not bump into the person ahead of you.  It is also difficult to pass slow-pokes given the narrow stairway. If someone twists an ankle or gets a panic attack and needs to turn around and walk upstream against the slog of people coming down, this could trigger a nightmare scenario of being temporarily stuck.

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Offering a prayer at the foot of the Leshan Giant Buddha

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A colossus

When I reached the bottom, I walked behind a large incense urn and kneeling area and stared up. This statue was constructed in only 80 years over 1,300 years ago. That seemed inexplicably fast to me. I could see lush bushes and vines growing out of certain areas of the statue (I learned later that every few years Chinese officials undertake the painstaking effort of removing all this greenery which always grows back). This symbiotic relationship between the Giant Buddha and the vegetation that sprouts out of it reminded me of large whales that have barnacles attached to them. These bushes that had managed to take root in the statue made the statue appear alive and sentient. Then, I had a funny thought that the Leshan Giant Buddha was not just the world’s largest pre-modern statue, but also the world’s largest Chia Pet!

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The climb back up

After viewing the Giant Buddha from below, I had to go back up through another stairway on the opposite cliffside. The walk up was very slow and claustrophobic in certain places given the tight tunnel-like switch-backs dug into the cliffside. As I climbed higher and looked down at the river below, I could see it was shallow with sediment piled up in certain places. Interestingly, this sediment was all the result of the construction of the Giant Buddha. All of the silt, rocks, and other sludge which had been removed from the cliff in order to carve the statue were not carted away or transported elsewhere for other uses. Instead, all of this excavated cliffside debris simply fell into the wild rivers below, and gradually, the rivers were reshaped and the once raging rapids ceased. So, the Giant ultimately accomplished what Hai Tong had sought long ago — it had calmed the rivers.

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A final look on the way out

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