Zhong Dian Llamissary

The Minnesota Intercollegiate Athletic Conference had a rule when I played my college soccer at what is now Bethel University in Saint Paul, Minnesota: an athlete could not maintain his eligibility having graduated from the undergraduate program. Because I had transfered from Wheaton College (Wheaton, IL) during the '89/'90 school year, I held one year of collegiate play beyond my 1992 graduation date. Therefore, I held off taking my Senior Seminar course in literature and stuck around Bethel in order to complete my last year of playing NCAA soccer.


During that extra semester, school rules required me to be a full time student (12 credits) in order to be eligible to play. Therefore, along with my seminar course in literature, I took Asian Thought, a course on Eastern philosophies and religions. As Professor Paul Reasner might be able to recall, I often dozed off in my desk in the front left corner of our tiny room situated in the bowels of the AC building. I passed his course, but I probably should have been listening better when we studied Bhuddism. Now I live in the "East," and I only remember a couple main points and a riddle the professor shared with our class. Even so, that final semester and that one philosophy course provided me a glimpse of what I experienced of Tibetan Bhuddism while in Zhong Dian a week ago.
I took this shot of Zhong Dian's roof tops more in an attempt to figure out my camera's timer feature, but when I looked at the photo closely, I realized that the llamissary for which the city is known sits nestled at the foot of the hills in the background. This smaller version of the enormous llamissary in Lasa (Lhasa) is a short, ten-minute, bus ride from Zhong Dian's oldtown. The number-three bus stops at the entrance to this monistary, where all the outsiders pay thirty yuan to enter, then it proceeds right to the foot of the stairs winding up the hill into the religious compound.
During my travels in Europe, I found that most cathedrals do not mind if pictures are taken, as long one does not use a flash or take shots during mass. With this in mind, I turned off my flash and started taking pictures of the the mostly vacant Bhuddist temples. I took this image of a woman kneeling to pray as I entered the lowest of the many places of worship. The temples themselves were colorful but dark. They smelled of dust and incense and sounded like the echoing basements of the Baptist congregations I attended as a child. While I have a few more shots of these temples, a monk did ask me not to take photos. So, for the most part, I refrained from upsetting these men by taking mostly outdoor photos.
With Zhong Dian situated at about 11,000 feet, one can imagine that the air tends to be rather dry. During December, while snow can be expected, the weather tends to be sunny. Cold at night (well below freezing) and warm during the day (in the 50s), the people of Zhong Dian seek out the morning sunlight to take off the bite of evening's chill. These two monks sit below the wall of one of the larger temples, facing east and warming in the morning's sunlight. Approximately 600 men take up residency in this llamissary, the largest Bhuddist monistary in Yunnan province. While the distance of this photo does not show it well, one monk sits with his hand on a bottle of Pepsi Cola. Whether or not the bottle actually contained cola I do not know, but it passing I smiled at the strangeness of seeing corporate America in this quiet place.
Tibetan Bhuddism varies from traditional Bhuddism a bit. Because of my limited language abilities, I did not receive very much information from the locals, but it seems that this form of Bhuddism is wrapped in a fairly large blanket of regional animism. Many of the gods painted on the temple walls bear a resemblance to a variety of animals--pigs, bulls, birds and others. Even while these temples hosted an array of brilliant colors, similar to those painted on Swedish, wooden horses, darkness filled these places of worship. Some of this darkness was literal, in that very few lights or candles stood as the source of illumination. However, each time I walked into one of these temples, I also received a creepy feeling, something less than holy. When I stepped back out into the sunlight, the feeling left me. While the temples themselves left me wondering what actually was being worshipped, outside, with the sunlight and the mountains surrounding me, I realized the power of the Creator.
Here I am trying my best to rotate the large prayer wheel that stands on a hill overlooking Zhong Dian. Tibetan Bhuddism uses prayer wheels--from small, hand-held versions, to this large merry-go-round version--to store prayers. The inside of these wheels is filled with prayers printed on paper. Oftentimes, the inside walls of the prayer wheels themselves have prayers written on them. Therefore, spinning them lightly, without giving thought to what one is doing, could be a problem. This giant wheel was erected as a monument, and stands over three stories tall, and I actually did not get it spinning (three people on the opposite side were also pushing). I offered up my hopes and dreams to Him who I know can answer me. I simply ask that you do the same for China.

When I started my undergraduate schooling at Wheaton, I had no idea that I would one day be living in China. Therefore, I chose French to fulfill my foreign language requirement, rather than the difficulty of Chinese. However, I thank Prof. Paul Reasner for giving me a little background in Asian Thought. Until one experiences it for himself, one cannot fully understand the difference between eastern and western logic. I apologize to my professor for dozing off too many time (I think it was the 08.00h starting time more than anything). It amazes me how His plan to add one semester to my schooling actually pointed to my life in China.