Full Circle

There's nothing like getting out to the country. I felt the wind find its way through me. Heard birds, rippling leaves, water over rocks. Took off my shoes and soaked my legs in a hot spring. Refreshing for body and soul. Didn't realize I was so tight. Big city life takes its toll.

Beitou is the site of natural hot springs. During their occupation in the early 1900s, the Japanese commercialized it into public baths. After their departure, the buildings fell into disrepair until a high school field trip came upon them (no kidding), petitioned for historical status and everything was revitalized in the 1990s. Now it’s promoted as a resort town calling itself Xin Beitou (New Beitou). They send a Disneyland-ish subway car to the main line to pick people up and bring them to town.

Xin Beitou sports a green-built library (first one in east Asia), the original Japanese-built public bathhouse (restored as a museum), public hot spring baths and numerous hotels, as well as dense commercial and residential infrastructure that seems omnipresent wherever I go. 5 minutes walk outside town is a small lake (pond actually). Hot enough for people to hard boil eggs - and they do - though now it's discouraged as too many people fall in and burn themselves (but that may be an urban legend).

So little time – so much to do. Since I may never make it to India or Nepal, I spent the waning afternoon at a Buddhist temple of some renown back in Taipei. The Longshan temple. Originally built in the early 1700s (before the great USofA was even on the map). Has been destroyed and rebuilt after fires, earthquakes and US bombing at the end of WWII (suspected the Japanese were hiding armaments inside). I stumbled onto a worship service. Felt voyeuristic, but what a sensory experience!!!

The temple is a walled, very small oasis surrounded and dwarfed by the looming metropolis of Taipei. The architecture is visually stunning. Japanese flowing drain-tile roofs with ornate, bright colored swirls and dragons. A large, almost empty courtyard inside the first gate, bounded by pond & garden on one side and on the other, a 20 foot high rock face visible beneath a thin, cascading waterfall. Through the second gate . . .

An inner courtyard, teeming with worshippers, kneeling, sitting, standing and moving towards an alter prominently displaying a golden Buddha. Many holding lit incense sticks – 2 feet in length, some by the dozen, and bowing (at interval of their own choosing). Others lighting red candles, thick as dynamite, to be placed on pedestals. (A little tricky to move through this crowd without getting singed). Some with hands pressed together in prayer and others with an open chant book. Tables to hold offerings (flowers, fruit, cakes, etc.) randomly arranged. And almost everyone chanting, but with one voice – one rich, earthy voice. Not loud or strong, but solid and grounding. I’ve heard about resonance, I understand the principle, but I’ve never felt it before. As I walked amongst that crowd, the rhythm of the chant found its way inside of me. I felt the chant as if I was chanting, but I wasn’t. I was mesmerized – almost thoughtless but aware. Just like the morning wind in Xin Beitou, the chant found its way through me and, for a while, stayed.