The legends say that to the West lies the great lands of the Buddha, a pure land free from the suffering of life. Many have travelled the path and sought to find the Buddha, but none had successfully travelled it in centuries, or so the old tales say. Modern men lead lives above these petty superstitions, abandoning their traditions and faith to grasp onto things more solid and mundane. Many might call these hedonistic times the age of Kali, debauchery and crime superceding everything else. But any man of noble intentions and a pure heart knows that the suffering of people now, as in previous ages, is based off the same four noble truths.
Shao Guling, a mere monk serving at the Temple of the Jade Buddha in Liangang, kneeled below a statue and, with has palms together before his face, quietly recited the sutra's and drew himself into a deep meditation. Meditating was a difficult task of late, the sound of not-so-distant explosions was a constant reminder that the nation was in a state of war, and Shao Guling often found difficulty taking his mind away from the notion that the suffering of the masses was compounded by this war. Was he not obligated to do something? What could he, a mere monk, do for the people regardless. He was not even the master of the temple.
"Amituofo," he muttered, bowing his head in reverence the the Buddha before rising to his feet and turning to face the edge of the terrace. The Temple had become a sanctuary for all manner of people, and Shao Guling had never before seen such a diverse variety of people. Westerner's, natives; communists, nationalists; Buddhists, Christians; all were welcome here. He walked past the crowds, his right hand vertical before his face, and he bowed slightly to each person he past by. "Shan zai, shan zai," he said, making his way to the edge of the terrace. From here, he could see the front lines of the war between the Communists and the Nationalists. A conflict which had killed a hundred thousand people already, a conflict with more than half a million soldiers participating. The Qi River to the West was drenched with blood and filled with bodies, despicable thoughts that could not be extricated from Shao Guling's mind. He closed his eyes in sympathetic pain and basked in the realization of suffering. His heart was filled with a deep sadness, and the monk, merely in his 30's, turned around to head away from the vision of violence to go about giving help to those who had come to seek it, regardless of their creed.
He knelt down to a wounded soldier, a deserter no doubt, but from which side was impossible to ascertain. His leg had a gaping hole in it, and the medico's had done their best to patch up the wound. Shao monk knelt down beside him and laid his hands on the man who writhed in pain even as he dreamt. He began to recite the heart sutra, focusing his mind and spirit on the task, and within minutes the man had begun to calm. Another soldier nearby glared at Shao monk angrily.
"Why do you keep the traitor here," the man muttered. "The Emperor has always been kind to the Temple, and you repay him by offering shelter to those who would abandon his cause?"
"Amituofo," he responded, bowing his head before speaking, "Buddha is merciful, friend. The Emperor is wise and acknowledged by the Heavens, ruler of this land and mirror of the Jade Emperor, but he can not know the celestial will. This man seeks salvation here, in this Temple, and that is enough to free him of his sins."
The man sneered, joined by two of his peers. Shao Guling surmised that the Temple was providing sanctuary to many nationalists who had no opportunity to flee when the city fell. It was a minor miracle that the Communists had not stormed the Temple and seized them. It was said that Wu Jindiao, though a Communist, had a deep respect for the revolutionary ideas of the Buddha - ideas which sought to liberate one's mind from it's own oppression, it was said. Still, many within the Hongmenghui did not share Wu's convictions, and only time would tell how sacred the sanctuary was for the Reds. Another monk, Jin Tushu, stepped in behind Shao wordlessly.
"Get that traitor out of this Temple. He hasn't the mind to keep his oath in this world, what makes you think he has a mind to keep a promise to the next?!" the soldier rose to his feet in anger, his hand falling into his coat. Though it was summer in Liangang, many of the soldiers here had found refuge in the winter, and were dressed as such.
"Please, friend, there is no violence here in the Temple. This is a place of harmony," Shao monk stated, standing fast even as fear begged him to step back. The man drew a dagger and stepped quickly to stab the deserter, but Jin monk stepped forward like a blur, his quarterstaff lancing out and smashing into the man's wrist. The pain caused him to release the weapon, and even before it could hit the floor, Jin monk had twirled the staff and jabbed the agitated soldier in the gut. He was knocked off balance and fell backwards towards his comrades. Jin monk assumed a neutral posture before Shao monk, his eyes a dauntless stare that bore through the three.
"Jin monk, please, let us move this man to a more comfortable place," Shao monk suggested, gesturing to the wounded deserter. Jin monk nodded his bald head and, with merely a word, a retinue of three monks assisted the Temple guard in moving the wounded man away from his would-be foes and towards a place where his safety could be more readily guaranteed. It would be difficult to guarantee all of these men's safety, as such a diverse crowd was sure to have conflict within them.
Shao Guling, a mere monk serving at the Temple of the Jade Buddha in Liangang, kneeled below a statue and, with has palms together before his face, quietly recited the sutra's and drew himself into a deep meditation. Meditating was a difficult task of late, the sound of not-so-distant explosions was a constant reminder that the nation was in a state of war, and Shao Guling often found difficulty taking his mind away from the notion that the suffering of the masses was compounded by this war. Was he not obligated to do something? What could he, a mere monk, do for the people regardless. He was not even the master of the temple.
"Amituofo," he muttered, bowing his head in reverence the the Buddha before rising to his feet and turning to face the edge of the terrace. The Temple had become a sanctuary for all manner of people, and Shao Guling had never before seen such a diverse variety of people. Westerner's, natives; communists, nationalists; Buddhists, Christians; all were welcome here. He walked past the crowds, his right hand vertical before his face, and he bowed slightly to each person he past by. "Shan zai, shan zai," he said, making his way to the edge of the terrace. From here, he could see the front lines of the war between the Communists and the Nationalists. A conflict which had killed a hundred thousand people already, a conflict with more than half a million soldiers participating. The Qi River to the West was drenched with blood and filled with bodies, despicable thoughts that could not be extricated from Shao Guling's mind. He closed his eyes in sympathetic pain and basked in the realization of suffering. His heart was filled with a deep sadness, and the monk, merely in his 30's, turned around to head away from the vision of violence to go about giving help to those who had come to seek it, regardless of their creed.
He knelt down to a wounded soldier, a deserter no doubt, but from which side was impossible to ascertain. His leg had a gaping hole in it, and the medico's had done their best to patch up the wound. Shao monk knelt down beside him and laid his hands on the man who writhed in pain even as he dreamt. He began to recite the heart sutra, focusing his mind and spirit on the task, and within minutes the man had begun to calm. Another soldier nearby glared at Shao monk angrily.
"Why do you keep the traitor here," the man muttered. "The Emperor has always been kind to the Temple, and you repay him by offering shelter to those who would abandon his cause?"
"Amituofo," he responded, bowing his head before speaking, "Buddha is merciful, friend. The Emperor is wise and acknowledged by the Heavens, ruler of this land and mirror of the Jade Emperor, but he can not know the celestial will. This man seeks salvation here, in this Temple, and that is enough to free him of his sins."
The man sneered, joined by two of his peers. Shao Guling surmised that the Temple was providing sanctuary to many nationalists who had no opportunity to flee when the city fell. It was a minor miracle that the Communists had not stormed the Temple and seized them. It was said that Wu Jindiao, though a Communist, had a deep respect for the revolutionary ideas of the Buddha - ideas which sought to liberate one's mind from it's own oppression, it was said. Still, many within the Hongmenghui did not share Wu's convictions, and only time would tell how sacred the sanctuary was for the Reds. Another monk, Jin Tushu, stepped in behind Shao wordlessly.
"Get that traitor out of this Temple. He hasn't the mind to keep his oath in this world, what makes you think he has a mind to keep a promise to the next?!" the soldier rose to his feet in anger, his hand falling into his coat. Though it was summer in Liangang, many of the soldiers here had found refuge in the winter, and were dressed as such.
"Please, friend, there is no violence here in the Temple. This is a place of harmony," Shao monk stated, standing fast even as fear begged him to step back. The man drew a dagger and stepped quickly to stab the deserter, but Jin monk stepped forward like a blur, his quarterstaff lancing out and smashing into the man's wrist. The pain caused him to release the weapon, and even before it could hit the floor, Jin monk had twirled the staff and jabbed the agitated soldier in the gut. He was knocked off balance and fell backwards towards his comrades. Jin monk assumed a neutral posture before Shao monk, his eyes a dauntless stare that bore through the three.
"Jin monk, please, let us move this man to a more comfortable place," Shao monk suggested, gesturing to the wounded deserter. Jin monk nodded his bald head and, with merely a word, a retinue of three monks assisted the Temple guard in moving the wounded man away from his would-be foes and towards a place where his safety could be more readily guaranteed. It would be difficult to guarantee all of these men's safety, as such a diverse crowd was sure to have conflict within them.