Mingmei Yip - Petals from the Sky

After returning her praise with our hands together in the prayer gesture and a demure “thank you but you overpraise,” Enlightened to Emptiness and I presented to the abbess our gifts-a book on Buddhist architecture and a bronze incense burner carved with lotuses.

Only after several more rounds of politenesses, tea pouring, and drinking, did the abbess finally take us for a tour of the temple where she introduced us to the other Shifus and to the workers and volunteers. Around seven, Enlightened to Emptiness and I retired early to our dorms.

The next morning I woke up at six. Enlightened to Emptiness had probably awakened much earlier, for in my semi-wakeful state, I could hear chanting drifting from the Hall of Grand Heroic Treasures. After a quick wash, I joined the nuns in the kitchen for a breakfast of porridge, buns, and pickled vegetables-simple but delicious after my sound sleep. Then, with not much ado, we grabbed our belongings and set out for the grotto sculptures.

Four of us climbed into the same rickety van provided by the temple: Mr. Qian, the driver who’d brought us here yesterday; a lanky young man named Little Lam, who’d be our guide as well as help us with odds and ends during the trip; Enlightened to Emptiness; and me.

Yi Kong wanted me to survey at least three grottoes, and our first destination was the Sleeping Buddha Temple located in Bamiao Township, forty kilometers north of Anyue.

After about an hour, with a sharp turn of the van, Mr. Qian announced that we’d arrived. He said that he wouldn’t join us for the tour, for he’d rather stay in the van with his favorite company-Longlife brand cigarettes.

I stepped out of the van and gasped. I’d never seen a Buddha so huge.

Carved out of an entire cliff, he was lying with his head facing east and his feet west. Little Lam came up to me and said, “Impressive, isn’t it? The Buddha’s length is twenty-three hundred meters.”

I turned to pass this information to Enlightened to Emptiness, but saw that she was prostrating vigorously on the ground and mumbling-probably a sutra or Hail to the Buddha’s Name. I also bowed and said a short prayer.

I walked here and there, shading my eyes while taking in different views of this gargantuan yet peacefully reclining statue, as well as the group of figures on its top. Two figures stood at the Buddha’s feet-one was the warrior attendant and the other one a woman mourning his death.

Without delay, Enlightened to Emptiness and I got to work, taking pictures and writing down detailed descriptions of the statues’ iconography: headdresses, facial expressions, mudras, postures, drapery, amulets, and other decorations. We transcribed inscriptions, worked out dates, and recorded damage. During our work, people hovered around us and interrupted our concentration with unending questions:

“Do you work for the cultural or the religious department?”

“You speak with an accent-where did you come from?”

“What’s the brand of your camera. Nikon? Canon?”

“You married? Why not?”

“How many children do you have?”

“How much money do you make?”

One young man even looked over my shoulder and read aloud my notes. Knowing that I was from Hong Kong, a middle-aged woman asked me to teach her English.

Ignoring the distractions, Enlightened to Emptiness and I worked fast-we couldn’t afford to waste time. At four in the afternoon, we’d already finished initial documentation of cave no. 44 with a double dragon sculpture, cave no. 54 with three Buddhas, and cave no. 59 with reliefs of apsaras -flying bodhisattvas.

A few hours later, the van driver, Mr. Qian, began walking restlessly outside the cave, so we knew it was time to go back.

The days passed with us getting up early, eating a large steaming bowl of noodles for breakfast, then riding out to the temple complex in the van with Mr. Qian. Little Lam soon stopped coming, having tired of watching us work in the caves. The days blurred together as we recorded the contents of cave after cave, then rode back home in the van. I ate alone most evenings, since Enlightened to Emptiness continued keeping her vow not to eat after noon. Then I would wash in water brought up in a large, stained, plastic bucket and go to bed.

I was happy to be using what I’d struggled so long to learn, yet I felt no desire to spend years in the remote dusty reaches of China. The place was so secluded, and the work so exhausting, that I truly achieved an empty mind. The confusion that had overwhelmed me in New York was letting me alone for now, but waiting, like the phoenix, to soar again.

On a hot day during the third week, we were working at our last destination of the day-cave no. 45 of the thousand-armed Guan Yin. This cave felt so cool that I gave out a sigh of comfort as I stepped in. I took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from my face, then I turned to smile at my young friend. “Shifu, wouldn’t it be nice if we could now have a Coke with ice?”

“Hmmm…” She thought for a while. “But I’d rather have iced green bean soup-that’s what really dissipates the heat.”

“Not a bad idea, Shifu!”

Still laughing, our eyes caught the statue.

My friend gasped. I let out a small cry.

“Poor Guan Yin,” I blurted out, “she has lost at least half of her arms!”

The young nun exclaimed, “And her whole face is gone!”

Seeing this heartbreaking sight, Enlightened to Emptiness immediately plopped down and did prostrations. I did them with her. After we’d finished, we stood up and scrutinized the mutilated Goddess.

Enlightened to Emptiness whispered to me as if fearing that the earless statue might hear our conversation. “Miss Du”-she was now counting the Goddess’s outstretched arms-“there are only five left.” Then she exclaimed, “Ai-ya!” and shook her head in dismay.

If all objects, like humans, have fate, then surely this thousand-armed Guan Yin’s was not as lucky as the others who had the fortune to escape natural or man-inflicted damage. Then I thought of the Golden Body, dead for a hundred years, with the luck to be cared for and pampered like the living, or should I say, better than the living.

When I raised my camera to take another picture, I noticed the bare space on my left ring finger. Not wanting to take any risk that it might attract too much attention or even get stolen in China, I had left the engagement ring back home. Because of my hectic schedule in Anyue, I hadn’t thought much about Michael. It’s sad to realize the truth that human emotions are, like the stone statues, equally vulnerable to the lapse of time. Now ten thousand miles away, was I also out of Michael’s mind?

My gaze fell on the two large holes in the Goddess’s face. I stared at them as an emptiness started to gnaw at me. I didn’t want my life to end up like the holes-dark, empty, forgotten.

I peeked at Enlightened to Emptiness, who was now snapping pictures with fierce concentration. Are all nuns’ lives trouble-free like hers? I doubted it. She was just still too young to be enlightened to the machinations of this Ten Thousand Miles of Red Dust.

After three weeks of uninterrupted work on the sculptures, we felt so overwhelmed and exhausted that we decided to have some fun on the weekend-the last Saturday before we’d go back to Hong Kong.

“Let’s start with the local market,” I suggested to Enlightened to Emptiness.

She sighed.

“What’s wrong, Shifu?”

“Hai, but…”

“But what?”

“You know, it’s forbidden, actually not forbidden, but…inappropriate for a nun to go to the market.”

“But Shifu, remember that all Bodhisattvas, after they have attained enlightenment, all come back to this dusty world, right in the marketplace, to help the others.”