Faithful to Buddha, Faithful to You

Chapter 6: The First Scripture I Attended

Three days later, at noon, an oasis appeared in front of them. After a long time of watching the monotonous yellow sand, I suddenly saw a large piece of green, making me yell with excitement. Chumorogippo looked at me so excited, shook my head and sighed, but couldn't help but laugh, and told me this was Vincent.

Well, Vincent, he mentioned it the first time he saw me. Repeating this seems to have an impression, there must be a corresponding Chinese name, but I really can't remember. Already beneath the gates of the city, suddenly surrounded by Western style music, the joyful tune brake is joyful, a grand welcome team is cheering at us.

Several tents were erected along the road to the city gate. There's no one in there, just some Buddha statues. In terms of engraving, it should be classy. The people sitting on the grass and carpet stood together, carrying a plate of flowers and sending them respectfully to their mothers and children. Mother and son gave ten gifts together and scattered the flowers on the Buddha statue before taking the flowers to the statue.

I looked at this strange ceremony and noticed the man who was headed by the Daiwa team: in his forties, he was fit and strong, had short hair on the forehead, but had long hair braided on the back of his forehead, wrapped in embroidered gold wire with a golden twin phoenix crown. Dressed in a red diamond pattern with a golden pearl robe, top stitched round golden bubble accessories, bottom slip... Wait a minute, I became occupationally ill again and studied the living person in front of me as a relic.

Though incomprehensible, it can be judged that this is a royal greeting, and that the king himself is covered with precious relics. Although beautiful Gibbs was also treated with great respect, the main character of such a high standard reception ceremony was obviously Chumoro Gibbs.

I know that Chumorogippo is by no means an ordinary monk, but he is only thirteen years old and not old enough to make great achievements. He certainly has other identities besides monks, such as noble descent or something. He's not a member of the royal family, is he? Is he a prince? Oh, Buddha was a prince before he let Jamuni go.

We don't live in temples, we live in a gorgeous palace in the palace. But gorgeous can never compare to the Nakahara dynasty. Due to drought in the west, houses are dominated by simple wooden mud walls with flat roofs. Houses made of dirt walls are already high-end buildings and usually only official offices, temples and palaces can enjoy dirt walls.

We now live in such a luxurious five-bedroom mansion, where the king of an unknown country has ten more servants. This time I had a single room, and Gibbs was watching too many servants, and he sent me a waitress. My first instruction was, "I'm going to take a shower."

Hot springs, petals, oversized bathtubs, they don't work here. In fact, the conditions are simple, and the pancreas doesn't taste like soap. However, I am optimistic that I will be able to take a bath after more than a decade of immersion in Huangsha. I am satisfied.

I can't wait to ask him about his identity during the evening. As a result, Chumorogippo said with a calm expression of thunder, “The eyes, ears, tongue, body, meaning are not real, let alone the name and position? ”

He actually dropped Buddhist ideology with me, and answering is like not answering. I stared at him, “Yes, yes, all four emptiness, all emptiness! Zhuang Sheng dream butterfly, I don't know whether Zhuang Sheng is a butterfly or a butterfly is a Zhuang Sheng. ”

I didn't expect the Zhuang Sheng Dream Butterfly that came out of my mouth to be of great interest to him, insisted that I talk about this example. I had to tell him: "There was a philosopher named Zhuang Zhou in the spring and autumn of Nakahara. He dreamed once that he had become a butterfly, a perfectly vivid butterfly, very happy and comfortable, completely unaware that he was Zhuang Zhou. I woke up surprised that I was Zhuang Zhou. Life was like a dream, so he couldn't figure out whether Zhuang Zhou dreamed that he had become a butterfly or whether he had become Zhuang Zhou. ”

He pondered for a moment and said, "Geranium said," Everything is Brahma's dream. Once Brahma woke up, the world disappeared and everything was empty. ”

I sigh, that's really pessimistic. Without wishing to continue this purposeful conversation, he asked, "Is Brahma Brahma Brahma? ”

Brahma is familiar with the pronunciation. I think of the three great Hindu gods in Hinduism: Shiva, Vishnu, and Hinduism. I went to India, did some research on Hinduism, so I knew something.

“Brahma?” He wrote the Brahma word on my sketchbook with a pencil and twisted his head: “You said ‘Brahma’ meant purity. Brahma is the creator of everything in the world, and what Brahma calls it is wonderful. Ai Qing, I heard that Zhongyuan Buddha Law is not thriving, but you have such wisdom. The Buddha of Nakahara is proud of his fingers. ”

Me, me, me, I started to stutter again, and I didn't pay attention to stealing other people's translations. Pumorosh, Xuan, Yijing, and the Buddhist translators I didn't know about, sorry, I didn't mean to.

When I went to sleep at night, I suddenly thought, "Am I real?" Wasn't I empty? Am I in a dream too?

For the first time, I was sad about my passage.

We lived in this Vensur. I asked Chumorogippo when he was leaving for Turtles, which, after all, was much more appealing to me than this little country. But he said he was invited to give a lecture at the Royal Temple to promote the Great Law on the 7th and 49th, and he also made me a guest table.

So now I'm sitting here with Gibbs, curious.

We are in the most magnificent palace of the Royal Temple, in the middle of which is the Buddha's Buddha's Buddha's Buddha's Buddha's Buddha's Buddha's statue, a muddy gold body, with a base about two meters high, placed inside the Buddha's temple. There are narrow passages around which Buddhist believers can circle. The entire mud wall of the palace is clear only at the door, so light up the oil lights during the day. Typical small Buddhist temples are very different from the larger Buddhist temples that will become popular in the Central Plains.

Early in the morning, Chumorogippo led the monks to sit and read the scriptures. Hundreds of monks crowded this not too large a large palace full of piers. On the left side of the VIP table is the king and a dozen ministers greeted yesterday, and on the right, me and Gibbs are sitting here with a bunch of women, and looking at the clothes should be the queen and the lady.

Sitting on the high stage in front of the statue of Buddha, Chumorogippo dressed in embroidered gold thread, his expression was solemn and his face was solemn. Even the king and queen read the scriptures, only I was embarrassed and desperate to bow my head so that no one else would notice me. What kind of buzz do I know about the Buddha in my heart? The Horn Ming Nam Wu Amitabha Buddha read it up and down a hundred times, and finally the whole reading ended. Then Chumorogippo started speaking.

Remember visiting the Mohammed Ali Mosque in Egypt, meeting the imam to explain the Quran, surrounded by hundreds of people inside and outside. I sat with them in the crowd in my headscarf trousers (rules for women entering the mosque). I'm not a * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Imam speaks to the microphone and makes powerful gestures from time to time. But I don't understand Arabic at all. I won't be bored for a while. But looking at the pious expression of the surrounding people, the black oppressed crowd did not make a sound. If I get up and leave, it could hurt their religious feelings. So I sat there for over an hour and waited for the imam to finish her speech before rubbing her numb legs up. Then tell yourself never to listen to another week.

This is the case at the moment. It's just that Chumororgi Bo looks more eye-catching and has a gentler voice. But my biggest problem is I don't understand! Listening to this deep Buddha is no different than listening to Arabic back then. Hundreds of monks around, the king and queen sound drunk, how can I leave?

I don't dare to sketch, I'm afraid it's too strange to draw attention. So, when my specialty name was repeated five times, I felt like sleepyheads were attacking me frequently, and alas, I woke up at 4: 00 in the morning. I admire the perseverance of the monks. I was so sleepy, I couldn't sleep in the public, I had to sneak up on the mat and do a small, unnoticeable exercise.

Feel a gaze lock on me, it's him. I pulled my mouth, spit my tongue at him, and rubbed my numb ass. He pulled up his mouth and pulled up a little bit of a grin. A few more words and it stopped. As everyone stood up to salute Chumorogippo with his hands together, I also hurried up to paint the gourd as usual.

The king summed up his presentation and then slapped, a row of palace people poured in, with small cases and food in his hand, and discharged to everyone on the VIP table. The ordinary seats behind the VIP table are not separate cases, but are delivered directly to each individual. I looked at a few things on the case, silly.

Fruit is of course Xinjiang, with grapes and melons. It is also essential. But what is this? It smells like oil. Isn't it barbecue? In appearance, roasted lamb is more likely. Of course, Xinjiang's roast lamb is famous. I have not eaten straight saliva in the last ten days, but all monks except me, the king and queen are waiting to dry the worldly people, meat is also distributed here, and the whole hall is filled with meat. Led by the king, everyone started and chewed their flesh all the time.

I stared at Chumorogippo, who was still in power, and saw that he was also eating meat. The action, though elegant, had too much visual impact on me. Suddenly, it occurred to me that since the temple pattern was Buddhist, they were supposed to be Buddhist, and I remember that monks could eat meat. But I can't remember. I'll check with him later in the evening. Bite the meat, it's not very good, it's just salted, no chili, no cumin, it's not as good as the stall in front of our school.

I peed after a good meal, and I was depressed after 48 days of this. When he came back, he saw Chumorogippo standing by the door and the noon sun shining on him. He smiled at me. “Ai Qing, I know you don't understand. It's too hard to sit like this. I've already asked Wang, you may not participate. ”

Great! I jumped three feet tall and almost gave him a hug. Think about his monk status, forget it. Thanks, he lifted his leg and ran. He shouted in the back: "You go back to the house to practice yesterday's Turtleswain. If you can't get it out at night, hit your palms. ”

In the evening he came to my room on time, I went back in the afternoon to make up for my senses, and I painted the Buddha Temple and the scripture scene I saw by memory. This time, Zhengzheng Zhenzheng waited for him.

My spit Rowen exam passed smoothly. When it was my turn to teach, I asked him the question that he had been bored all afternoon: “Why are you eating meat? ”

He was surprised: "We believe in Hinayana, of course we can eat meat. However, only three pure meats can be eaten. ”

Three pure meats? It should be the meat that Buddhist monks are allowed to eat. "How can we call it san jing meat?" he asked. ”

“First: blind killing, that is, not witnessing with one's own eyes the tragic sight of a livestock dying; second: deafening, that is, not hearing it scream; and third: not killing for oneself, that is, not for oneself to eat. For example, it would be inconsistent to go to a market and see a dealer killing chickens and fish, or a trafficker claiming that this is fresh meat, or, for example, to be a guest in a house, they specifically kill chickens and ducks to entertain them, and then let the people kill for themselves, which is not pure meat. In short, if you do not see or hear or kill me, you must meet three conditions to be called three pure meats at the same time. ”

Buddhism is more strict after the passage of Buddhism to the Chinese Plains. Big Buddhism is strictly forbidden to kill, and even meat is forbidden. So in our impression, monks are forbidden to eat meat. Suddenly I remembered that Xuanxi had talked about eating meat in "The Great Tang Western Domain." When he went west, he was very uncomfortable eating meat for monks in the west.

“But why aren't we eating meat on the road?” I never realized they could eat meat just because I hadn't eaten meat for days on the road with them.

“'Cause the meatloaf was done before I met you. ”

I nodded and now I finally understand. If the Nakahara monks see that they can eat meat, is it envy or disgust? “Well, what, you just said you were Hinayana, and this Hinayana sounds familiar. What does that mean? ”

He thought about it, mumbling and mumbling, and now I can understand a bit of Spitfire, so I know that he is not speaking Spitfire, then it must be Sanskrit, which is the Mandarin of the Middle Ages around Central Asia. By the way, he speaks scripture in Sanskrit today, because I don't understand a word. If it's Spitfire, I can understand at least a few words.

I heard him make another sound: Mahayana. I went to India with an English version of LonelyPlanet (the world's most authoritative and popular self-guided tourist collection), both of which appeared frequently in attraction presentations. It's about Buddhism, and he says he's a Hinayana and eats three pure meats. Ahhh, I suddenly think:

“Big Buddhism and Small Buddhism, right? Mahayana is a multiplier, Hinayana is a multiplier. ”

Seeing him, I wrote on the sketchbook, "Big multiplier”, “Small multiplier”: “‘multiplier’ refers to the means of delivery, which is analogous to Buffalo, like a boat car can carry people to each other. Hinayana emphasizes passing away and pursuing personal liberation, so the Chinese translator is called Xiaowei. Mahayana emphasizes the crossing of others and the universal life, so the Chinese translator is called the Great Multiplier. ”

I can even mask Sanskrit. Hit him with his big shiny eyes and see the smile in his heart. I had a cold war.

“Ai Qing, I told you, you have Hui Ron. ”

Me, me, me, plagiarizing someone else's translation achievements. Sounds like it was Dumorosh. Sorry, I really didn't mean to...