Chapter 8 Memories of the first part of the temple

It is said that in the past, every hutong in Beijing had a temple, big or small.This may be an exaggeration.But when I think back slowly, there are indeed temples or relics of temples in all the hutongs I have lived in and are familiar with. In the alley where I was born, diagonally opposite to the gate of my house, there used to be a small temple.When I saw it, it had been converted into an oil workshop, and the gate and courtyard of the temple had not changed much, but the monks had left, and horse-drawn carts often brought in large bags of peanuts and sesame seeds. The smell lasts for a long time.The mill donkeys took turns resting in the open space in front of the gate, rolling and shouting in a fuss.

In another alley going east from that alley, there is a larger temple with incense still there.Or the nunnery, I can't remember the name, I just remember that grandma said there were no men there.That was the place where my grandma often took me. The temple was very large and full of pines and cypresses.No matter how hot and unbearable the summer evening was, as soon as we walked into the temple, we immediately felt cool. My grandma and I sat side by side on the stone steps of the temple, enjoying the evening breeze and moonlight, watching the stars light up one by one.The monks and nuns did not drive away the lay people, let alone accept tickets. They just nodded and smiled when they saw us, and then went quietly to nowhere, as if the evening wind stirred up the resinous fragrance of pines and cypresses.There are often religious ceremonies in the temple, the sound of bells and drums, cymbals, wooden fish, chug chug huh huh, the music makes people hesitate.The sound of chanting is like an accompanying song without words, like a sigh of sorrow in the night, like the mist rising spontaneously after the land that has been scorched all day has finally stretched out.Grandma listened without moving, but encouraged me to check it out.I hesitated and approached the door, only glanced through the crack of the door, and ran away immediately.That glance was very impressive.Thinking about it now, about any sound, light, shape, posture, and even temperature and breath, there is an innate response in the bottom of the human heart, so many things can be understood without being understood, and they will be remembered forever.That's about power of form.Atmosphere or emotion hits as a whole, they are larger than words, they enter the realm of the unspeakable, so that a five or six-year-old child instinctively examines rather than just seeing.I ran back to my grandma, and I knew instinctively that it was another place, or leading to another place; for example, the mist flowing through the woods was full of wandering spirits.Grandma listened engrossedly, and she didn't even realize it was shaking her. She was recalling her life from the music and singing, looking at that other place.My age is beyond recollection, beyond sight, and another place is a serious threat to a newcomer's life.I slipped into my grandma's arms and dared not look, hear or think, but felt a sense of solitude filled the air, and the moonlight seemed cold and dark.This child was cowardly and stubborn by nature, which must be the reason why he came to this world.

When we were in elementary school, we moved. The reason was that several streets united to form a people’s commune. The commune authorities took a fancy to the yard we used to live in and the two adjacent yards, so they moved in and we moved out. .I remember that this matter was carried out in a hurry, as soon as the notice was given in the morning, they moved in the afternoon. The street cadres called and called the main laborers of each family home from the work unit, and moved from noon until late at night.I'm so excited about it, all the kids who are moving away are excited not to go to school, probably tomorrow and the day after tomorrow, and we're moving together and still living together.We hopped in the furniture truck and headed to our new home, feeling that something exciting was happening, that something new was waiting for us.It's a pity that the journey is not far away, and we will arrive at our new home without any experience at all.But the slight disappointment was fleeting, and we stormed into the yard, and blew through all the houses, taking them over as masters.From the perspective of the future, this yard is far inferior to our original yard, but freshness is the main thing. Freshness is inherently related to children. Freshness is all respected in such seasons. We don't care whether the yard is smaller than the original one or whether the house is Wretched than the original, immediately playing hide-and-seek among the crooked furniture, running and screaming, opening and closing all the doors, turning off and on all the lights, climbing up a tree and jumping down, being fussed The crowd knocked down and then got up by themselves, excited for each new discovery, and then saw that it was nothing... Finally, the group fell asleep in a certain corner, and they were so sleepy that they couldn't wake up, and they couldn't even scream.At that time, my mother was on a business trip, and she didn't have time to inform her. When she came back a few days later, she found that her home had become a commune. She stood in front of the door for a long time before someone came to explain to her. All of them are good comrades, and the needs of the revolution are the same wherever they live and where they don't live.

The place where the new home is located is called "Guanyin Temple Alley", and as the name suggests, there is also a temple there.The temple can't be considered small, but it has long been dilapidated and has been out of care for a long time.The gate of the temple has disappeared, and people are hiding in the yard with withered vines, old trees and grass.The side halls are empty.There are still a few statues in the main hall, with mottled decorations, and the guardian gods standing on both sides are wide-eyed, but they are unarmed, and their weapons have long been taken away by someone and thrown on the ground.A few children of the same age and I picked up the weapon, waved it, and jumped up and down in the hall to fight in and out, imitating the war of the world, chopping at the ruined mud tires, charging into the grass, overcoming thorns and thorns. Fly, with the look of Gigod, and then "fertilize" the lonely old tree, stick the butt wipes on the wall... do all the evil things of blasphemy, and then go home in the sunset like a bird.It has been our paradise for a long time, we must go there before going home after school, there are endless secrets to be discovered, there are dead cats in the grass, bird nests in old trees, and it is said that on the top of the dark temple There are snakes and weasels, but none have been seen.Sometimes it was for a small book, the rental period was tight, and everyone couldn’t take turns, so they ran to the temple to read it together, holding everyone around by one person, and everyone said that they had read it before turning the page.Whoever reads slowly, everyone calls him stupid. In fact, he can't read a few words. The main thing is to look at pictures. Naturally, there are differences between stupid and non-stupid.Or for copying homework, there are a few stupid masters who can't do their homework all the time, so they copy other people's homework. The temple is safe, and teachers and parents can't see it.Buddha, dare to do anything without a Buddha in your heart.The copyer kicked his ass and copied it under the eyes of the Bodhisattva, and the copied person took the opportunity to show off his superiority, saying "I don't have much time, so copy quickly", and then deliberately magnified the ease and happiness to catch ants. Grasshoppers, catching dragonflies, bouncing balls and slapping triangles yelling, sweating in a hurry, kicking their buttocks rhythmically, chanting words, turning their heads from time to time and shouting: "Wait for me later! "In fact, no one knows, there is no way to wait.Another time was specifically for the courage of the competition. "Who dares to go to that temple at night?" "What's the matter, huh!" "What's the matter? There are ghosts, do you dare to go?" , don't you believe it... do you dare to go tonight?" "What's the matter if you go, tsk!" 1 o'clock." "I'm afraid my mother won't let me out at that time." "Oh, hey, if you don't dare, just say you don't dare!" "Okay, nine o'clock is nine o'clock!" We really went to the temple that night Once, someone brought a flashlight, and someone brought a fruit knife, which was considered a weapon anyway.When we walked into the temple gate, the sky was still full of stars, but after a while the sky became cloudy and windy.We squatted on the steps of the side hall, huddled together, not daring to move or speak loudly, the grass swayed, the old trees rustled, and the moon skipped and skipped among the clouds.Some people say they want to go home and pee.Some people say that when you pee, go there.Some people say that I am not afraid of anything else, except that it is going to rain.Some people say that they are not afraid of rain, but they are afraid that when it rains, the family members should be anxious.Some people say that the rain snake comes out first, and then maybe there is something else.The one who wanted to piss began to tremble, saying that not only did he want to piss, but now he also wanted to poop, but unfortunately he didn't bring paper.In this way, everyone gradually felt the desire to have a bowel movement, saying that holding back feces and holding back urine is going to make you sick, and one person who kept holding back stool and holding back urine later became a hunchback.Everyone was surprised and said: Really?Then you might as well go home and go to the bathroom.But the next day, the one who needed to go to the toilet first became the only one who needed to go to the toilet. Everyone blamed him, saying that if it wasn't for him, we would have stayed there for a long time, maybe we could catch snakes, and maybe even see ghosts .

One day, a lot of dark red powder suddenly appeared in the temple courtyard, like piles of hills, I don't know what it is, and I can't figure out what it is for.The powder was dry and light, and it flew everywhere with a "poof" when you stepped on it, and the shoes turned dark red from then on, and you couldn't even try to wash them clean.A few days later, some people came to the temple and tossed and tossed in the dark red powder all day long, so all of them turned dark red, not to mention, the temple walls and steps also turned dark red, the weeds and old The trees also turned dark red, and the powder drifted with the wind or flowed with the water. Before long, half of the alley turned dark red.Subsequently, a signboard was hung in front of the temple gate: Non-ferrous metal processing factory.From now on, there is no place to play, snakes and ghosts do not know where to migrate, the wild grass has been hoed, and the old trees have been felled, leaving only a dark red mass that grows day by day.Later, the temple was also demolished, and the temple wall was also demolished, and a large and vigorous factory building was built.The alley was also renamed, and people born in the future would think that there had never been a temple there.

My elementary school, the campus itself is also a temple, to be precise, it is part of a large temple.The big temple is called Bolin Temple, and there are many thick cypress trees in it.When there is wind, the thick and deep sound of the old cypress trees spreads all over the campus and into the classroom, making the noisy children quiet down, making the sound of reading aloud sometimes fly up and sometimes sink, making the students who are in and out of class The ringtone is erratic and melodious. The old man who rang the bell is said to have been a monk in this temple. Since the temple was converted into a school, he became a gatekeeper here, and the gatekeeper also rang the bell.The old man is very kind, he will not be annoyed by touching his red nose and bald head any way you want, and he will even bow his head to you when he sees that you are not happy, and say: Do you want to touch it?The children were all willing to play in the reception room, huddled on his bed, tightly packed, joking with him regardless of their size.When it was time to start or end get out of class, he rang the brass bell and walked unhurriedly under all the windows and porches, without looking aside, without changing his posture all the way.Ding Ding Ding Ding Dang — Ding Ding Ding Dang —— The ringtone is fluttering in the wind, echoing in the campus, spreading in the sun, leaving an indelible memory in the hearts of all children.The bell rings nervously during class and comfortably when class is over, but whether it is tense or comfortable, it is more flavorful than the later electric bell. It is romantic and passionate, as if it knows your fear and hope.

But one day the bell suddenly disappeared, and the old man who rang the bell disappeared. It is said that he had gone back to his hometown in the countryside.why?It is said that it is because he is still quietly burning incense and praying to Buddha, and a new era should be an era of atheism.When the children walked into the school gate again, they saw that the copper bell was still in front of the window, but it was not a person. There was a stern old lady sitting in the reception room. The old lady would not let the children mess around in her office.When class starts and ends, the old lady just clicks the button lightly, and the electric bell blares "Wow-Wow--" indiscriminately, scaring the whole campus into fainting.In that almost cruel voice, the children understood nostalgia: Where did the ringtone of the past go?The only thing is certain, it walks into the future along with the memory.Many years after it drifted away, in my dreams, I often heard it again, heard its erratic and melodious, saw the calm pace of the old man ringing the bell, and woke up in his unchanged face.Is the future already buried in the ringtone, and has the future been known?

Many years later, at the age of 21, I came back from the queue and couldn't find a job. After waiting for a long time, I still couldn't find a job, so I joined a street production team.I wrote in another article that several old houses were covered with dust. I worked there for 7 years, painting some flowers, birds, fish, insects, landscape figures on the antique furniture, and the monthly income was enough to make ends meet.The production team is just outside the south wall of the Berlin Temple.At that time, the Bolin Temple had been converted into a library in the Beijing Library.I and a few younger brothers who were also unemployed often worked under that red wall.The old house was dark and boring, so we went outside and looked at the street scene while working. It seemed that time seemed much lighter with all kinds of people coming and going.In the morning, people going to work rode their bicycles with lunch boxes on the back rack, whistling and ringing the bell all the way, the gesture alone was enviable.After the people who went to work passed by, some scattered people came to the gate of the Berlin Temple, most of them carried a leather bag, and when they entered the gate, they showed their ID cards, and they strode inside regardless of whether the gatekeeper could see clearly. It makes people look up even more.Not everyone can go there to borrow books and look up information, Xiao D said that only professors or bureau-level people can do it. "You know?"Little D is a few years younger than me. Because of polio, one leg is three centimeters shorter than the other. He joined this production team as soon as he graduated from middle school;We sat under the temple wall from morning to night, watching six roads and listening to all directions, knowing what time it is without looking at the watch or the sun.A grocery truck passing through the street called "Oil, Salt, Sauce, Vinegar, Pepper and Aniseed Laundry Powder" all the way over, it was nine o'clock in the morning.It was about ten o'clock when the tricycles that bought scraps came.The old man who sharpens the scissors and knives always arrives on Wednesdays, aiming at a small restaurant next to the production team, "Hey, sharpen the scissors──grab the kitchen knife──!" The voice is very loud; everyone says he is such a waste, why don't he go to an opera ?At three o'clock in the afternoon, there must be a group of kindergarten children appearing, holding each other's skirts, singing babbling, thinking how beautiful this world will be if they walk into it inadvertently. disappear.At four or five o'clock, a prison car often drove past us. Not far from the Berlin Temple, there is a famous prison, which is said to house thieves.There was a man named Xiao Dezi who was 17 or 18 years old and had no parents. He worked with us in the production team.This kid can eat. One time, the production team didn’t know what trouble they caused and wanted to invite people to dinner. After the diners left, they folded up a washbasin. Xiao Dezi bought a bottle of beer, sat in front of the stove and sighed It took half an hour for the washbasin to see the bottom.But one day Xiao Dezi suddenly disappeared, and the aunts and aunts of the production team inquired around, only to find out that the boy was caught stealing outside.In the next few days, we paid more attention to the prison car before dark to see if he was in it; the prison car roared past, and everyone shouted "Xiao Dezi! Xiao Dezi!" Xiao Dezi still had a month's salary to pay. and pick up.

At that time, I still unwittingly believed that it was better to have a formal job, and if I could enter a unit owned by the whole people, I would be able to rely on it for the rest of my life.My mother accompanied me to the Labor Bureau to apply.I remember that place with winding corridors and a deep courtyard, which probably used to be a temple.What kind of application? It's like going to make an apology. As soon as the mother enters the door, she smiles all over her face, trembling, and then no matter who she catches, she introduces her son, and guarantees that this child in a wheelchair is actually still a child. Competent for many kinds of jobs.Those people were naturally full of bureaucratic accents. My mother ran from the front yard to the back yard, and was dispatched from one house to another.I was young and energetic at the time, and I didn't have so many good words to dedicate to them.Finally, a responsible comrade came out and gave us an answer with reason: "Wait a little longer, we can't allocate people with all beards and tails!" After that, I stopped looking for them.Never again.But the mother, until she died, was still going there one after another, saying nothing before going, and apologizing to her angry son when she came back tired.I didn't say anything more, but I knew she would go again, and she would regain enough hope in two weeks.

I wrote in an essay titled "Acacia Tree" that my mother dug a mimosa under a big tree on the way to find a job for me; Big, it is actually a silk tree. Around the summer of 1979, on a certain day, we were sitting under the temple wall having lunch, when two monks in black clothes and hair came suddenly from nowhere, one old and one young seemed to float there. "Yo?" Everyone stopped swallowing and followed them with their eyes.As they walked and talked, their eyes were clear and their steps were light, and everything around them seemed to be empty or even virtual between frowns and smiles.Perhaps our nervousness was noticed by them, and they nodded and smiled deliberately when they walked in front of us.This reminds me of my long-lost childhood.Then, still like that, they quietly walked away, going nowhere as they did many years ago.

"Isn't the Berlin Temple going to be restored?" "Haven't heard of it?" "No. How big is that movement, can we not know?" "It's probably the Jingtu Temple in the north, and the houses there have already been renovated." "That's right, Jingtu Temple!" Little D said, "The day before yesterday I saw that the temple gate there had been repainted, and I wondered what it was for." Everyone looked toward the north in a daze.When I listened carefully, there was no special sound coming.Only then did I suddenly realize that the temple has disappeared for so many years.Disappeared, or closed, along with that other place from which to look. In my impression, it was from that moment that an era ended. In the evening, I was alone in my wheelchair to find the small temple.I don't know exactly why I'm looking for it, maybe just to get back a certain feeling of childhood?In short, I suddenly missed the temple, the eaves, stone steps, and porch of the temple, the quietness and emptiness of the temple courtyard under the moonlit night, and the incense sticks floated up and then shattered.I miss the form of the temple.I sincerely miss that hesitant music, maybe that kind of hesitation finally fits my not-so-young life.However, in fact, I don't really like that kind of music.That music, even thinking about it, is still depressing, frightening, and frightening.But with the years I have passed, I can't help but think back, can't help looking, and can't help but hear another kind of existence from the pressure of the music.I don't like it, for example, I don't like death as much as I like life.But have it.In the human heart, the response to it is buried innately.Response, what kind of response?For me, (this foolish child!) it is never the joy of achievement, but, on the contrary, the clear revelation of incompleteness.The more beautiful the view, the more you see your own ugliness, the more boundless you are, the more you see limitations.Where is God?With my stupidity, I can't imagine a blissful place free from suffering and worry.If there is such a place of bliss, if the blessed people really go there, then what?I always think this way: then where to go?My heart is like stagnant water or is there any wish?No matter where you go, it shows that this place is not perfect.Between ugly people and perfect gods is the eternal path for believers.In this way, I heard that the hesitant music is a reminder of one thing: this shore will always be incomplete, otherwise the other shore will collapse.This is probably the compassion word for Buddha's compassion.Compassion is what we need to keep in mind while walking on this endless road. The era without temples is over.Immediately afterwards, another era came, and it was very fast.Some famous temples inside and outside Beijing have been renovated and reopened one after another.But that was more like the beginning of the temple turning into a park. People went there mostly for sightseeing, so they had to charge tickets, which were very expensive.The incense was revived, but there was something strange.People burn incense in large quantities, clusters of incense are thrown into the censer, the flames are blazing, and the smoke is fumigated. People kneel down sincerely, pray for promotion, pray for good longevity, disaster relief, and prosperity... If you can’t do anything in this life, you can do it in the next life. In short, pray for the Buddha's comprehensive preferential treatment.The temple has disappeared for many years, and when it came back, it was already a very realistic place, and there was no hesitation. In the spring of 1996, I took an eight- or nine-hour flight to a beautiful city far away, on the other side of the earth.One evening, after the meeting was over, my wife and I were walking on the street when a bell sounded us into a small church (temple).There are many churches there, and the fluttering bells can always be heard in the clear sunlight.The bell reminds me of a church near my home when I was a child. I stood in the yard, at most two years old, just opened my eyes from nothingness, and heard its voice before I saw the outside world. It was clear, distant, and calm. , as if ringing from the sky.Does this bell ring that other bell?Of course, I know that there is an interval of 8,000 kilometers and more than 40 years.My wife and I walked into the small church, took pictures there, laughed loudly, looked around, and pressed the shutter without hesitation... At this time, I saw a middle-aged woman sitting alone in a corner, silently looking at the statue of Jesus in front of me . (Later, in the printed photos, I saw her again behind my wife and me.) Her eyebrows seemed to be sad, but her hands were relaxed on her knees, and her mood seemed very peaceful. She didn't notice the noise, or maybe our noise didn't bother her at all.Suddenly my heart trembled -- at that moment, I thought I saw my mother. I have always had a miserable dream, and it will repeat in my dark night every once in a while: Mother, she is not dead, she is just deeply disappointed, completely disappointed with me, or especially with this world The poor soul had nowhere to tell, no support, so she went away, and left us far away, never to return.In the dream, I cried out in despair and blamed her in my heart: "I understand your disappointment, I understand your departure, but you always have to send a message, you don't know that we will miss you, you don't know how much we are. Miss you?" But there was no way to tell her even such words, only knowing that she was far away, not knowing where she was.This dream came into my night again and again, and I couldn't drive it away. When I woke up, I made a continuation of it in my daydream: Mother, her soul has not dissipated, she watched me in the dark And blessed me for many years, until my gaze met her in the dark, she was relieved and reborn elsewhere, in a place where the soul told. I hope that if I write down this dream, my dark night will be converted from now on.