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To Touch the Face of God

Inspiration can happen unexpectedly

By Jyme PridePublished 3 years ago 4 min read
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@jessezhou on Unsplash

I WENT UP the stairs ahead of the others, so fired up to see what lay ahead. The three students with me were younger than me, much younger, but I ran on ahead of them up the thousand narrow steps to the top of the temple where they told us the monks were waiting. I was anxious to see them. I'd been told about this place from friends who'd visited similar temples across China. So this was my first time to see one and I could hardly wait.

"James, wait for me! I'll go with you," one of the girl students called up to me. I glanced back and saw how far below she was with the others and waved, no thanks. I was almost at the top.

I was told there are huge bells representing the 12 Zodiac animals of China up there, and they said I could ring the one for me, my month and birth year. The Monkey.

Maybe, just maybe here I might have a spiritual experience… an awakening of some kind, I thought… Already a deeply spiritual person, I was open, always to new experiences, new revelations, a desire for a closer walk with God. So, whose to say that, there I might find something that I've been missing in my life until now?

There at the top, the air grew thin. The high walls of the staircase opened up to a very vast opening -- some kind of open-air plaza, a world unto itself there under a cloudy sky. There, this enormous square led to other enormous places -- low ceilings but brightly lit glittery rooms populated with hundreds, literally hundreds of brightly robed monks in red and yellow, the vast majority of them young children, small boys with smooth shaved heads and quaint somber expressions on their faces, sitting in groups on the floor, unmoving, burning incense and chanting quiet songs. They seemed deep in meditative thought.

"AAAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuummmmmmmm!" they seemed to say. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuummmmmmm!"

There were all sorts of huge Buddhas in these rooms, too. Many of them with wide smiling faces and shiny bald heads, just like the boys. And there were lit candles sprinkled thereabout everywhere--reflecting off the gold and silver, off the shiny glow of the walls, off the heads of the Buddhas and the monks. Lots of them. Lots of candles. And under the open sky, in the plaza itself, were huge trees like guardians stretching to the heavens, long-planted, grown up from the ground cracking beneath them as they pose immobile between conceit walls and marble flooring, bearing an untold number of sacred red ribbons hanging from branches, swinging in the breezes, clapping quiet maddeningly their own separate songs. On each ribbon were names and other writings, these prayers for healing, love, safety, family and happiness. In the breeze the red ribbons swung freely giving hope.

"Remember, you can't take any pictures," Roy, one of my student friends reminded me. Who had time for photographs here? -- My heart and soul was soaring! I smiled my thanks. He stood glowing with sweat, half out of breath being the fact he had to run to catchup with me. He caught up to me at the entrance to one of the rooms.

I was so excited.

I went inside.

I smelt the incense burning in the air.

I stood listening to the chants. Looking at the monks. The children.

And in my heart, I too began to sing.

And I knew this was my spiritual moment. I felt my soul lifting out of me to the sky. I had wings. I was above the treetops. God was speaking to me there in a strange, obscure way. The chanting and the clapping and the bright glittery lights all seemed to get down into my spirit. Even as I soared, I too was grounded and I felt God bridging their world with my world and telling me all is OK. Everything will be fine. He will do whatever needed to be done--for my life, my dreams, my future. He will make all things well.

Then I turned and saw outside against the wall the huge bells. They sort of gleamed in the soft half-light of the cloudy afternoon. Each bell was beautiful. Bigger than me, and hanging down, inscribed with their own individual meaning. Each one having markings denoting the animal they represent.

I ran to them and found the one I was looking for. The bell had a small figure of a monkey next to it on the wall. And with my hands on a long wooden beam supported by thick red rope, I swung the beam and hit the bell.

It's gong was loud. It shook the ground.

I think it was heard all across that part of China. It was the sound of my silent heart singing my separate song. A song of praise and thanksgiving for the moment—this moment that I’ve begun to find my way.

spirituality
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About the Creator

Jyme Pride

Some people form love affairs with numbers. Others, it's music, sports, money or fame. From an early age, mine has been words. Oftentimes, it's words that makes a person . . . .

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