Chapter 7 The first dream garden (6)

6 Sit in the back of the boat and wait for the long crossing time of nearly an hour.Except for the regular slapping of the wooden boat by the water, there was no noise around.Large expanses of floating clouds hover over the open land between the sky and the river.The wind was strong, and it was slightly chilly.They watched the river and the sky stretched by clouds beyond the river.Along the way, I saw river beaches, small earthen tile houses, dogs, old people, and children.Big yellow broad-leaved trees against the bright blue sky.The quiet and leisurely rural scenery in autumn is different from Lhasa.The Yarlung Zangbo River flows gently, surrounded by tall and hard mountains.The boatman stood on the bow and suddenly sang without expression.Tibetan folk songs, with a rough voice and a stylized long winding tone.

This is their habit.She said that they sang every time they rowed, maybe out of loneliness, just to themselves.She raised her face, squinted her eyes and looked at the sky, fully exposing her face to the intense and bright afternoon sun, enjoying the violent caress of ultraviolet rays on her skin.The sun pierced through the clouds and hit it hotly, like a direct stick hitting the face, leaving scorching marks.Her face was already tanned, dry, with large pores, and the same plateau red sunburn spots as the local women gradually appeared on her cheekbones.But she never shy away from the sun.She loves being close to it.The ultraviolet rays tan her like a baked toast, and her skin is so dark that it seems to glow.She only bought a bottle of cheap facial oil in a small shop. The fragrance was poor and strong, but the ingredients of the oil on her face were also suitable.

She said, this is my 16th trip.I often come alone by boat to Samye.Now I understand why the ancient Chinese said that it takes hundreds of years of fate to cross the same boat.From shore to shore, we must be persistent and have the same goal.Crossing the river seemed like a ritual. He said, do you go to the temple just to see the murals? She said yes.There are the most exquisite murals in Tibet in the passage corridor on the 1st and 2nd floors of the Samye Hall.Those murals have been waiting for more than 1,300 years, just for those who have a destiny.Some of them were badly damaged.Because the light is dim and the sun cannot be seen, it has been preserved until now.

Do you often go to temples in Lhasa? There are not many places to go in Lhasa.Looking at the murals is something one can do alone.The monks at the temple already knew me.They treated me like a local and didn't charge me tickets.Most of those murals are about Buddha's life, scriptures, stories and legends in classical scriptures.Explain their views on the universe and the world.Mural paintings can be regarded as a kind of their religious rituals.Drawing itself is a kind of worship, it is not a process.It is a finish. They arrived at dusk, and first entered the temple to see the murals while the sky was still bright.He followed her slowly up the steep and narrow stone steps, and heard her panting softly in front of him.She knew this complex temple well, and took him slowly to look around the circular prayer corridor.Then walk into the cold hall.Staying outside in the bright sun for too long, suddenly walking into the deep room, the eyes are dark, like blindness.

He secretly tried to distinguish those old murals.The large and large murals have been worn down and darkened by time.The colors are gorgeous and exquisite, and the patterns are repeated, as if a shipwreck after being covered by the ocean, carrying the echo of another end of time.That is another world that cannot be entered.The remaining gold powder on the Buddha statue is still faintly shining.She stretched out her fingers, and under the dim light, she gently simulated stroking at a distance of about 10 centimeters from them.The palm of the hand moves slowly in the air with infinite reverence.There was no one in the entire hall, and it seemed to be forgotten by the whole world.Butter lamp seedlings jumped slightly.

She said, if you are about to leave for Medog, I can go with you. why.This was not your plan. I don't have any plans, just stay in Lhasa.Everything can be temporarily prepared, which shows that we are always preparing for action.It's never too late. He said yes.Not too late. She said, your friend, how did you stay in that place. She started out working in Tibet, taking photos of the Grand Canyon for Geographic Magazine.After entering, she stayed there to teach.She's a badass.She doesn't feel any discomfort living in isolation.She doesn't read newspapers or watch TV, and believes that complicated news reports and information have nothing to do with people's real life.The Grand Canyon is the place where she has stayed the longest since she left her hometown as an adult.Longer than any city and place she has ever been to.

In any case, this is something that requires a great deal of will. yes.Even now, I don't think I fully understand her.There may be a wandering monk in her heart, who does not need the approval of worldly values.But I've been living in the city and I consider myself healthy and strong.Like all people in cities, they are used to enjoying material and superficial pleasures of life. How old were you when you knew her. 13 years old.We were always each other's only friends. She took him to an abandoned small room on the north side of the main hall, and showed him the more mottled and damaged murals on the walls.On it are weird beast figures, lotuses and Buddha statues whose edges have been worn out and blurred.Open a dilapidated wooden door, facing the empty plain.The peaks of the snow-capped mountains are faintly exposed among the distant mountains, silently shining blue light in the twilight.

Dim sunlight bounced and glowed among the patterns on the wall.He walked over and adjusted the angle of his sight so that he could see those ancient and unsophisticated lines more clearly.She said, you see, only the murals here use pure natural pigments.Red is coral, blue is lapis lazuli, and green is turquoise.They have not been damaged for thousands of years, only decayed.She leaned against the door frame, looked at the snow-capped mountains in the distance, and lit a cigarette.Quickly took a few puffs, and then pressed it out quickly. Walking out of the room, the scorching sun was still shining in the corridor.In the garden of the courtyard, a man dressed as a monk carves a Buddha statue out of black wooden blocks, and more blocks are piled on the ground.They stood and watched.Then she quietly left him, walked to a corner of the eaves, took out the camera in her hand, and took pictures of the elegant and classic plants depicted on the wooden door partition.