The warm air licked my body encasing it in wetness as I left the cool interior of the bus, conscious that I was an unusual spectacle in this uniform crowd of Chinese who were all at least a head shorter than I. To my left, my unencumbered view took in the colourful jumble of a makeshift market around the busy bus terminus where masses of Chinese arrived and left.
Food stalls. Drink stalls. Souvenirs. To my right, far away on the other side of the huge square, I saw white tourists alighting from a tour bus – separate and well away from where we had come in. I watched the universal language of their guide instructing them how much time they had and where they had to go to eat.
head of me stretched out a magnificent avenue with its giant incense burners leading to the temples. Wondering where the Buddha was, I started to set out in the direction of the temples, then guided as if by some invisible hand, I turned around through 180 degrees.
As my gaze registered the images before me, trying to mechanically comprehend the vision, my heart stood still and my soul encompassed the totality. Waves of bliss and peace cascaded through me as I experienced centuries of prayer, reverence and spirit. Around me people moved like waves in an ocean ebbing and waning to and from the statue. A quiet peace floated over the enormous square and entered my heart. My crown chakra buzzed and my spirit spiraled upwards.
Just at that moment I felt the eternal vibration of that sound before I heard it. The timeless hum of a hundred monks chanting their prayers. The sound penetrated my being. Resonating, vibrating the ancient codes in my cells, stroking my soul. I closed my eyes and saw the colors of healing swirling around the image of the golden Buddha. I became conscious of my chest choking with emotion at the inexpressible beauty of that moment of grace. I stood shaking, wracked with tears and emotions as I humbly received the gift of deep healing.
I made my way with my fellow worshippers to the base of those steps and silently with my hands at my heart gave deep reverence and thanks.
I climbed the three hundred steps and gazed with rapt wonder at the craftsmanship and sheer size of the statue. I took countless photographs which I knew would never capture the awesomeness of this place. I wondered through the mausoleum. I posed for pictures with the Filipino tourists who wanted to capture the image of the strange white woman with silver hair in a striped dress and French beret at the top of the stairs. I climbed back down and up the avenue to the temple. Buying joss sticks, fruit and flowers I made offerings to the gods, said my prayers for the dead, for all those whom I love and invoked the great invocation. When all my ritual was done, I went in search of the food hall and ate the meal the monks had prepared.
In a state of grace I re-boarded the number twenty three bus. Once again the Chinese crowded into the bus leaving the seat beside me the only empty one. As we pulled away and down the mountain I found myself expand into the landscape. Tall craggy mountains rise steeply from the sea, disappear into white billowing clouds. I looked back to watch the Buddha on top of the mountain, imposing and majestic, recede until finally the bus turned a corner and the mountains slid across my view.
The journey back took no time – the unique drive up and down the mountains in first gear on the virtually single lane road; dodging construction and road/mountain repairs; passing the countless stretches of concrete reinforced mountain sides. (In order to stop the mountain slide all over the roads and erode away to the sea, the Chinese have invented a unique solution – they reinforce the mountains by 'painting' the sides of the mountains in concrete and wire mesh.) Giving way to oncoming buses and cars requires a special skill. It can only be done by driving sideways and precariously clinging onto the mountainside at forty five degree angles. The ritual celebration of each such encounter – we all wave and cheer the safe passing of each vehicle, congratulating the skill of the drivers. Somehow we all knew that the Buddha would be ensuring none of the buses that brought us would drop off the sides of the mountains. Safely arriving at Tung Chun station, I stepped into the ultra modern steel tube that whooshed me back through the surreal underground landscape of tunnels, metal, darkness, and electricity to the Hyatt. I arrived replete and completely nourished.
Po Lin Monastery is in the New Territories, Hong Kong, and is the home of the largest bronze Buddha in the world and has recently been opened up to the West.
Caroline Shahbaz is a strategic and organisational change agent situated in St. Kilda, Melbourne.
