So, my accomodation here in Taipei is in a shared apartment owned by a woman who is a devoted Buddhist scholar and looked to for guidance by many people (including my friend who set up this incredible arrangement for me). She herself only lives there a few days out of the week sometimes accompanied by her husband or daughter. They have one bedroom, I have one bedroom and the 3rd bedroom is occupied by another woman, also a Buddhist scholar and her very sweet mother who speaks to me only in Chinese. They have study sessions every wednesday and friday night when the small living room is filled with people eating rice crackers and drinking tea as they laugh and debate the words of the master around our little coffee table. The picture below is taken from our 5th floor balcony room which is actually much less glamorous than it sounds- it's like an open hallway we use for washing and hanging laundry sort of like those you can see across the street. But the rainstorm I am trying in vain to photograph was quite momentous- the thunder was such that at every clap the little grandmother and I would look at each other in surprise. Apparently I've come to this moutainous tropical island for the rainiest month of the year... little did I know. At the end of the street you can see the performing arts center where there are a myriad of classes held for the community and where they are training the next generation of U-Theater, now still in highschool. Also I am allowed to come and use the studios for my own work whenever I want (!) So at the request of the artistic director, I am currently preparing a piece to present here sometime before I leave. So little time!

But back to my flatmates. Last week they told me they were organizing a ceremony for Buddha's birthday and I was welcome to attend if I wanted to. So on Sunday morning I found my way to the park she'd named and wandered a bit bewildered through the tables of people with pamphlets (for I don't know what) and the group of women looking eclectic despite their matching white pants and red T-shirts (I discovered later they were there to perform some traditional Chinese dancing in honor of Buddha), and up to the group gathered around what must have been a great master giving a talk in front of a series of alters. Finally I found my friend's husband who helped me get my bearings and welcomed me to follow the others through the line of alters to "wash Buddha." Apparently the act of washing the Buddha statue also washes away anything "bad" from oneself (I'm sure it's more complex than this but our limited shared language forces simplified understanding). So a bit shy at first I finally thought what the heck and got in line.

The man in front of me, a friend of the group turned and asked if I was Christian "mm, no" I reply, not really. "Do you like Buddha?" yes. And that's all I needed to feel ok there.

So I followed the example of those before, bowed 3 times and knelt to pour 3 bamboo-ladlefuls of water on the small golden Buddha statue standing in the pool of a golden bowl. I then followed along to the next alter, bowed 3 more times (all the way to the ground) and was gestured to pick up a scroll from the pile on the table. I took this with me to the large gong where I was to give it a good hit- my first attempt was deemed too weak by the attendant who told me with a smile to go ahead and hit it again harder. This I am told is to wake yourself up- perhaps your spiritual self? Then I moved on to the Priest-like monk standing at a table with little bowls. He instructs me silently: take a pinch of this and rub it into your hands (some kind of spice?) take one of these (a clove) and eat it, now put your hands together in prayer. I close my eyes as he sprinkles me with water from the branch of leaves he dips into the last small bowl on the table. I do feel blessed.

At the last alter several people sit in robes in a silent prayer or meditation, they have almost become part of the alter itself. I bow 3 times and turn to face my waiting friends who happily gather to read my scroll which I have not yet untied. Of course the meaning is hard enough to decipher in Chinese so they are stumped by the translation. We bring it to at least 5 different interpreters who all give me a slightly different angle on it. I delight in seeing all that these few words can contain. Of course I have yet to find a concise poetic translation in English but the gist of it was that if I listen to the rhythms of my instincts/self then I will find enlightenment/ peacefulness like a cool breeze and the wonderful feeling of that moment will last forever (meditation, readings, teachers are all ways you can help find your own voice but they are not necessary). Anyway, it was a lovely morning and the cool breeze was indeed refreshing in the heat of the sun.

It happens that that day I also met a friend of a friend, an aboriginal from the Tarogo tribe who would later bring me to see his people's land and this Puyuma tribe dance ceremony here in Taipei. More on these adventures in the next entry.