Bodhicitta
One
mountains surround Bond Airport. This flat land has become the favorite of Qamdo. It welcomes people from all over the world to the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau to have a bird's-eye view of the world from the roof of the earth.
Qamdo has become the "throat" of the plateau. It stands solemnly and quietly, using the thickness of the mountain to shoulder its heavy responsibilities. It goes to Xining in the north, Chengdu in the east, Kunming in the south, and Lhasa in the west.
In August, I left Shu and flew like a bird to the plateau in my dreams, toward Lhasa in my heart. The plane transferred to Qamdo, and the cool wind at Bond Airport instantly dissipated the heat on my body. The mysterious regional customs stick to the soul like a magnet, making people unable to help but want to delve into its soul.
In the field of vision, mountains are not only mountains, but also mountains. It meanders continuously and spreads out, as if it has made an oath with the eternal earth and heaven, and stays with the boundless vast stars. They are rarely green and mostly have copper-red skin. They look like burly men, boldly and ruthlessly displaying the mystery and simple beauty of Tibet.
The road is like the blood vessels of the mountains, small and delicate, winding between the mountains like earthworms. It is very lonely, stretching into the mountains alone, looking up at the sky melancholy, wanting to hear the cry of birds. However, the sky and the earth were silent, the sun was hanging there brightly, and there were invisible ultraviolet rays in the air. The tongues were sticking out, as if they were trying to tie up the people who walked into the mountains at all times.
But I seem to have been isolated from the world outside the plateau. The bustling world is no longer there, the hustle and bustle of the city is no longer there, and even the sound of oars in the Jiangnan water town is no longer there... I just want to think Throw away the things in your heart little by little, and merge with the endless mountains and the extraordinary roads between the mountains. When I think like this, the sun is warm to me.
The road leads to Junyong Village, Zuogong County, Qamdo City. This is the Ancient Tea Horse Road leading to Lhasa. The ancient road is also new, widened a lot, and paved with asphalt, which can accommodate small cars. The driver of the car was a Han cadre stationed in Tibet named She Dezhi. After working on the plateau for more than ten years, his skin became as red as the surrounding mountains, and his accent became more Tibetan-like. The most important thing is: he has mastered very skilled driving skills, so that he can remain calm while driving on such a road, even if the tires are cracked! I gasped, but he calmly let us get out of the car, calmly changed the spare tire, and continued on.
The sound of camel bells and horse hooves was replaced by the occasional sound of car horns, raising a few puffs of dust and exciting the mountains, and soon the world returned to silence.
There is a river. Yuqu River.
The terrain gradually rises and the road gradually sinks, walking close to the river. Maybe I was thirsty after walking and wanted to drink water. There are not many roads in the mountains of Qamdo, and they do not intersect with each other. They start from the city center and extend towards the mountains to reach each Tibetan village. It's not easy for them to wander around cliffs or valleys and valleys, and have to endure more than half a year of ice and snow. I don’t know how this road was built!
There is someone there.
They are several Tibetan compatriots on pilgrimage: hands clasped together, looking straight ahead, and prostrate on the ground. In an instant, the road merged with them and became the blood vessels in their bodies.
The Yuqu River was very happy. It licked the small pieces of land around it and made a "gurgling" musical accompaniment. The highland barley has just been harvested and is piled into small stacks, facing the river.
The river disappeared after a while. A Tibetan village appears. A spring actually appeared in front of me, hanging from the mountain in the form of a jade belt. It turns out that the original river took another path through the mountains and penetrated their bodies. It turns out that there is something more precious than blood flowing in the endless mountains. I saw a river running between the mountains and the water, that was the Nujiang River.
The river carries the sediment and rolls under the cliffs, making a "rumbling" sound. It is full of momentum, taking in the majesty and ruggedness of the plateau, declaring the derivation and development of a civilization.
The green of the mountain gradually increases, and among the rich vegetation, unknown red mountain fruits hang, shining brightly with color, charming the creatures.
With a "swish" sound, a hare quickly ran across the road and into the woods. The little goat screamed "baa baa" and rolled over like balls of pompon. On the river bank, there is a mature highland barley forest. When the wind blows, the waves of wheat surge and rustle. At the bottom of the valley, Tibetan houses stand proudly and colorfully, releasing the mysterious Tibetan style.
Junyong Village has arrived. The stability of the mountains and the loneliness of the road were quickly broken. The air is fresh and my mind is completely clear. The roar of the Nu River came faintly, perhaps a song of victory and joy, to the mountains, rivers, grasslands, cattle, sheep, and fruits... At this time, the sun slanted over from the mountains on the other side of the river, shining village. Deep in the distant mountains, once the golden color of the sun and the green color of the village are blended, they become a palette that God has overturned.
The desolate and silent mountain suddenly became lively. In the dam labeled "Village Committee" are piles of fresh vegetables such as pumpkins and cabbages that the villagers just picked from the fields. Not long after, an old lady came in with a smile, carrying a pot of butter tea. An old father came again holding a jar of highland barley wine.
They would pour their hearts out if they could, I think.
Early the next morning, the group happily walked through the orchard, through the Gesang flower bush, through the bluestone alley, through the corn forest, past the old woman doing prayer, and walked into Tashi by the river. Re's ancestor's ancient Tibetan house - the former residence of the leader of the caravan, went to find a story about the ancient tea horse road station yesterday.
The sun is out. There are white clouds floating on the mountain, as holy as hada. There are sharp peaks on both sides of the mountain, and in the middle is the rushing Nu River. The mountains are brownish red, and the river forms a magnificent landscape painting, three-dimensionally presented between heaven and earth.
Tashire’s ancestors were famous, and their residence was built in the late Qing Dynasty and early Ming Dynasty. After years of erosion, it is ancient and simple. Timbers were stacked under the eaves of the courtyard, and workers were working on their own to strengthen and repair the house. The wooden stairs were dented by many people. The murals inside the house are exquisite and slightly weathered. What exactly is the content of the mural? No one can tell for sure, but Chinese and German experts are actively seeking ways to solve the mystery. Perhaps, it is a lookout on this road, connecting the past and the present.
The grandfather of villager Gasong Phuntsok once ran a caravan. His father, Gasong Tseden, has also kept his own collection - a pair of shiny saddles, a room full of brick tea, and a piece of history about Junyong Village.
It was originally nothing more than a beach. But the terrain is particularly good, surrounded by high mountains, with the Nu River running through it, and fertile land at the bottom of the valley. The caravan got tired and stopped on the beach. The leader of the caravan suddenly discovered: This is where you can escape the chaos of war! At the command, the men quickly turned around to drag their children with them. Later, houses were built out of stones, and highland barley was planted on the land. From then on, smoke curled up from the tidal flat. It is also said that Princess Wencheng passed here when she entered Tibet, and Feifengling has testified to this. It turns out that this road deep in the distant mountains has never been lonely.
Today, Junyong Village has a population of more than 400 people. Children in the village go to Qamdo to study, or further afield to Lhasa, or even abroad.
People living on both sides of the Nu River and deep in the mountains, their roads are getting wider and wider after all!
2
Flying from Qamdo to Lhasa, I specially chose a seat by the window.
I feel like a bird, soaring above the roof of the world. Under the clouds, there are snow-capped mountains. There are springs among the snowy peaks. They are gurgling and quietly accumulating strength. Those breathtaking rivers are dormant on China's first topographic ladder.
The symphony of ancient human imagination and modern civilization is broken up by routes leading to Lhasa. Gonggar Airport really carries too many people’s dreams: different skin colors and different accents meet here.
The sun is hot, shining brightly on the distant mountains and near waters. The mountain is almost naked, and the body is wrinkled, but it reveals a sincerity and heroic spirit, which makes people feel at ease and warm in the heart. Outside the airport, the Lhasa River is sparkling, indescribably clear and transparent. Its nine-winding ileum, accompanying the willows in the shallows, brings out the purity and etherealness of the plateau.
I am like a newborn baby, staring with wonder, looking at the majestic mountains, looking at the transparent water; looking at the blue of the sky and the white of the clouds. I greedily enjoyed the breeze and coolness of the plateau like I was sucking my mother's milk.
In Tibet in August, the pure blue sky is as real as life. When you arrive in Tibet, you have to go to Shannan, which is the birthplace of Tibetan culture and the origin of Tibetan life.
After crossing the Lhasa River, you will go with the Brahmaputra River.
Between the mountains, the river meanders. The water of the river is clear and clean, reflecting the blue of the sky and the white of the clouds. Near the shore, I actually saw rows of willow trees. On the deserted beach or under the stone barrier, the willow trees stand unyieldingly in the wind, with their branches and leaves pointing upwards. They grow so poetic and lush, which can't help but surprise me. It turns out that Princess Wencheng brought these when she came to Tibet. People called them princess willows, but they grew into their own shape on the plateau.
The appearance of the plateau is carefully interpreted by Dajiang, and it is not just the willows on the tidal flats. Not far away, there are patches of wetlands, with tree roots growing in the water and branches spread out on the river, allowing my imagination to spread.
Legend has it that in ancient times, the moist and fertile Shannan was the place where the divine monkey and the Rakshasa girl met. This laid the foundation for the birthplace of Tibetan people. Love is the theme of Shannan. Shannan is also recognized as the "cradle of Tibetan national culture" because of its many "firsts", including the first Zanpu, the first palace, the first temple, the first scripture, the first farmland, the first A village, the first well...
On a sand dune, I actually saw a camel. They stand among the green plants, stretched out by the shadow of the light, like the masters of heaven and earth. Not far away is neighboring India. My uncle was stationed here many years ago. During a battle, one of his ears was blown off by artillery fire. But today's camels have no idea of ??this history. They pace leisurely, slowly nibbling on the grass, with a peaceful and peaceful expression.
Peace of mind brings peace of mind. The bells of Samye Temple are long-lasting and the climate is mild. On the bank of the Brahmaputra River and at the foot of Mount Habu, it seems to be isolated from the world. This is the first temple in the history of Tibet where monks were ordained and became monks. Amidst the sound of Sanskrit sounds, I put aside all distracting thoughts and seemed to be walking in my own heart.
Under the pagoda, Kelsang flowers swayed in the breeze, and the flowing clouds changed their shapes under the blue sky. Just when I looked up, I suddenly found a building under construction. Many Tibetan men and women dressed in Tibetan clothes were laying Aga (laying the foundation). There are old people and children, as well as young men and women. They line up in neat rows and sing the same songs. The songs come and go, full of charm. Although the movements of hitting Aga up and down are simple and monotonous, they are sonorous and powerful, as if they are endowed with rich emotions and content by the ballads. I couldn't help but smile at them, and they actually shouted in unison: Tashi Delek!
Tashi Delek, I think of him in my heart. The surging Brahmaputra River flows from the trickling springs in the snow-capped mountains and flows into an emotional ribbon, which also binds my thoughts and soul.
In the south of Tibet, at the southern foot of Rishan Mountain in Gongpot, on the east bank of the Yalong River, at Changzhu Temple.
I looked up again, my eyes burned by the light. But I could still clearly see the roc on the stone tablet in front of the temple spreading its wings and flying towards me. I'm undefended. I traveled west from Shu, crossed the Lhasa River, crossed the Brahmaputra River, and passed the Samye Monastery, and it seemed like I came here just for the love.
Back in the early 7th century AD, Songtsen Gampo unified the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau and established the Tubo Dynasty. Later, he married into the Tang Dynasty and married Princess Wencheng. They built their love palace in Shannan. Historical data records that after Princess Wencheng entered Tibet, she lived in the present-day Shannan area - the seat of the Tubo Dynasty at that time, in the summer palace Yongbulakang and the winter palace Changzhu Temple.
On the left side of the Sutra Hall of Changzhu Temple, I stopped in front of a two-hole tiger stove and an ancient brown pottery basin. The pottery basin is a relic of the princess. I clearly saw an exquisite and petite woman with her hair tied up in a high bun, taking out a jade jade. Although she was brought to tears by the fireworks, she still persisted in washing, frying and boiling, hoping to give it to her beloved husband. Make a cup of soup and a delicious meal.
I seem to smell the fragrance of rice grains. My eyes are wandering along with your graceful back.
I saw the colorful silk threads tangled in your hands, jumping on your fingertips, like flowing notes, woven into the tapestry thangka.
In the sound of the Yarlung Zangbo River, I am looking for the melody of love. Listening carefully, Shannan's folk songs seem to be sung again amid the cuckoo's crow. Falling in love with a city, a mountain, or a snowfield because of one person. You brought them seeds and hope, taught them tapestry weaving and healing skills. Is this you, princess? ! That year you broke the willow branches at Baqiao in Chang'an, bid farewell to your relatives and homeland, walked out of the Zhumen Palace, and headed westward. This is the longest wedding road in the world. During it, how much reluctance and tears are there, and how many words and emotions are there?
So, when I climbed up to the top of Yumbulakang out of breath, , after lighting up a lamp, how I hope it can illuminate the princess's way home. The white clouds in the sky can be picked with one hand, and the farmland under the mountain shines green in the sun. It was the first rice field in Tibet and where Tibetan civilization grew.
Three
I miss Shannan and don’t want to leave Shannan.
"That year, I bowed my head and hugged the dust, not to worship Buddha, but just to stay close to your warmth. In that life, I traveled across hundreds of thousands of mountains, not to cultivate the afterlife, but just for the sake of the journey. Can I meet you? "That year, I said goodbye to my relatives and hometown in Shannan, and left my beloved girl Rigzin Wangmo. Was it you? Went to the majestic Potala Palace.
I clearly saw an iron-boned man with a state of mind like water and feelings like willows, standing on the snowy plateau, shining brightly in the long river of time. And I was in this territory, talking to the original author of poetry, looking at the heart of a poet, weeping about the sorrow of love, the reincarnation of the world, the beauty of heaven and earth...
First contact with " The word "Lhasa" is a Chinese composition for the third grade of elementary school. We are asked to continue writing the scene of a Tibetan serf mother and her child after they fainted from hunger in the snow. In class, I put aside all distracting thoughts and worked hard to broaden my imagination, as if I was on a vast snowy plateau. What unfolded in front of me was the story of people on the plateau desperately trying to save a mother and daughter.
A close encounter with "Lhasa" was the fifth southwest young writers class held by Lu Xun Literary Institute at Bajin Literary Institute in 2016. Six writers including Zhou Yong and Liao Wei came to Lhasa, among which Deputy squad leader Zhou Yong was originally a scientist at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, but he lived in Lhasa for several years and published nine books about Lhasa. The female poet Liao Wei was originally from Dazhou, Sichuan, the mainland. I don’t know if it’s because she lives and works in Lhasa. Her heart is as soft as the white clouds in Lhasa. Even if she sees a small ant on the road, she will walk around it carefully.
Lhasa has been blooming in my heart for more than 40 years. From the time I started learning to write essays, to learning to sing the new Lhasa folk song "Wandering the New City" and reciting Cangyang Gyatso's "Seeing and "Missing", after reading Zhou Yong's series of articles on Lhasa...
This honest and simple Hunan man talked about Tibet in detail when he received us in Lhasa. He originally came to Lhasa to exercise and live, but it seems that he has no intention of returning to Beijing. Walking on the streets of Lhasa, you can always hear the accents from various parts of the mainland and eat local snacks. Lhasa may be entering everyone's heart from the roof of the world, or maybe everyone has a Lhasa in their heart.
But the unique things of Lhasa have never changed. In the lobby of the hotel where I live, there is a bowl of highland barley with ears of wheat planted neatly on it. The food that nourishes the children of Tibet is enshrined in the hearts of the kind-hearted people of Lhasa. Here, everything in the world is alive and worthy of awe, including heaven and earth.
The night in Lhasa is like stars on the sky, high and bright. An epic large-scale live performance drama - "Princess Wencheng" is currently being staged. People sit quietly, as if walking into the depths of the plateau's history. The moonlight is like water, and the mountain shadows are faint. In the gorgeous lights, there are fluttering prayer flags, tall Mani piles, holy snow peaks, and trembling rivers...the prosperous Tang Dynasty, distant Tubo, the long wedding road, and the great integration of nationalities. ...The scroll of history seems to have been opened by the hand of time. The snow-capped mountains are speechless, the Brahmaputra River is roaring, and history and reality blend together.
I heard the sounds of the seeds of Tibetan civilization germinating, blooming and bearing fruit. I held my breath, as if I was also a part of Tibet.
I consciously joined the long queue for lighting lamps in front of the Jokhang Temple and put on the Tibetan skirt I bought from Qamdo. The skirt is very beautiful, purple, waisted, reaching to the ankles, with a long belt tied into a bow. I carefully looked at every Tibetan girl or Tibetan aunt around me. Their Tibetan skirts always cleverly highlighted their beauty; the men's Tibetan robes showed their majestic temperament, but regardless of men, women, old or young, their clothing was consistent with The red face complemented each other perfectly. Their hearts are also red.
In front of you is the Jokhang Temple. Tibetan compatriots who came from distant mountains to kowtow and worship formed a long queue. They set out from their hometown, twisting Bodhi fruits in their hands, kowtowing step by step, measuring the earth with their bodies, and talking to their ancestors with their souls. Carrying butter tea, they entered the temple one by one and walked in one direction. They lit oil lamps, chanted mantras, smiled, and their hearts were pure and full.
Outside the Jokhang Temple is Barkhor Street, which stands outside the high-rise buildings. In the neon lights and the national and regional customs, it seems to be the past and present of a city. People with different accents, different skin colors, and different nationalities come and go here. The woman is obsessed with a colorful wool cloak, the man is obsessed with Maggie Ami in his heart, and the children are jumping in the square, busy making friends with Tibetan children of the same age.
This is the place closest to the sky in the world. I don’t know if the people here are as high-minded as the sky, but the smiles of each of them are as pure as the blue and white of the sky. There are many festivals in Tibet, and people express their love for the plateau in various special ways. It coincides with the Shoton Festival, and even though the sun is shining brightly high in the sky, I don't feel hot at all.
Norbulingka ushered in another extraordinary day. The trees that cover the sky and the sun confirm its rich history and also highlight the severity of this land. In the name of festival, it invites people at home and abroad to step into their hearts. The crowds were crowded, but no matter which country or region they came from, they all slowed down and lowered their voices.
Outside Norbulingka, colorful tents were set up in the forest. This is a festival that belongs to the Tibetan people. Men were drinking, women were singing, children were running around, and ancient Tibetan operas were being staged.
Life is everything inside and outside the play. At that time, many people were walking past Tsangyang Gyatso’s relics in his palace.
Four
Lhasa, a young and ancient city.
In the Potala Palace Square, various civilizations are intertwined here: on one side are ancient and solemn palaces, on the other side are gleaming modern cities; on the other side are Lhasa people in Tibetan clothes, and on the other side are people of all kinds Tourists in various costumes. This traditional and modern plateau city, nestled in a sea of ??green trees, seems to be exuding a new vitality. Standing in the middle and looking around, you will see Beijing Road, Jiangsu Road, Norbulingka Road, Yutuo Road...it is clearly an art corridor of national integration.
It is the tallest city in the world, but the Potala Palace stands above Lhasa, as holy as a lotus in the clouds.
After the rain, the sky was slightly cloudy and the air was particularly fresh. At the gate of the Potala Palace, looking up at the temple in my heart, I couldn't help but clasp my hands and close my eyes for a long time. The intertwined colors of red and white give the palace a mysterious coat. How many precious stories and magical legends are hidden in every corner of the palace, under the eaves, and among the Buddha statues?
Beside him, an old Tibetan man was holding a wooden mop and wearing an apron around his waist. He was chanting mantras and bowing deeply to the ground. His hair was disheveled, his face was dusty, and his clothes were shabby, but I saw his eyes were happy and bright, and his expression was happy and satisfied. Behind him is a young child who also imitates his appearance, extremely pious and holy. They must be rich at heart, I think.
I walked into the Potala Palace.
The past returns.
The historical pictures are superimposed and played back like a film reel - Tubo, Tang Dynasty; Songtsen Gampo, Princess Wencheng; Changzhu Temple, Yumbulakang; Lhasa, Potala Palace... I walked through the stone steps and pillars , eaves, cloisters, I saw Buddha statues, jewelry, sandalwood, Tibetan robes, prayer wheels, and I really heard the chanting... I walked past their wedding room.
In that life, in the snowy mountain sanctuary with the highest altitude in the world, I seemed to hear another person shouting to the sky: "I am the biggest king in the snowy area, and I am the most beautiful lover in the world." In an instant, all the abstract murals and images, all the stories and legends became concrete and vivid, and they were all presented in front of me in a real and three-dimensional way. This is the real world of life in the heart of the "king". Is the Lhasa River your teardrops? Staring at the snow-capped mountains, rivers, grasslands, sheep, Mani piles, prayer flags... I have imagined your passionate and determined look countless times.
Love and friendship should be the eternal themes of this world. From ancient times to the present, what could be more important than this? !
From the "Luoche" city of the Tang Dynasty to today's "Lhasa" city, thousands of years of silent accumulation of moistening things, and the hard work of children of all ethnic groups, are like snow lotus on the roof of the world with the highest altitude. Bloom to your heart’s content.
When I went home, I bought a bunch of bodhisattva on Barkhor Street. The word "Bodhi" originally refers to enlightenment and wisdom. In English, "Bodhi tree" means great kindness and compassion, discernment between good and evil, and awareness of the truth. In plant taxonomy, the Bodhi tree grows in tropical and subtropical areas and is a sacred tree in Buddhism.
Buddha said: Bodhi has no tree, and the mirror is not a stand. There is nothing in the beginning, so where can it cause dust! Does Bodhi really have no tree? I remember that autumn, in the alpine zone of more than 3,000 meters above sea level, at the Kumbum Monastery in Qinghai, I actually saw a Bodhi tree. The Bodhi tree, which blooms and bears fruit once every few decades, has become a beauty in people's hearts and a holy place of worship. The gray-haired grandma who is kowtowing has been here for more than a year. She has to kowtow 100,000 times before returning to her distant home.
Looking at the Bodhi fruits on Barkhor Street, they are all shining with spiritual luster, as pure as the blue and white of the sky. Thinking of those who twist the bodhi fruit in their hands, their hearts must be pure and flawless, with beauty in their hearts. The world is as wide as the plateau. Devout Tibetans come all the way across mountains and rivers to worship here. They want to bring peace and happiness to their relatives.
Home is far away. But Bodhicitta was taken back to their distant home by them, filled with love and true feelings. I finally understood that the Bodhi fruit, which blooms and bears fruit once every few decades, has been protecting the hearts of every son and daughter of the Chinese nation with its hard appearance, soft heart and shining color since the day it crossed east. .
In the Sanskrit music, I seem to see that my home is far away, and my home is in every corner of the land of China.
Zou Anyin, female, is a member of the Chinese Writers Association, a member of Chinese Reportage, a member of Chinese Prose Literature, and a contracted writer for the China Agreement Point Life Project.