Jennifer Burge's Blog, page 4

My Birthday with Buddha

I enjoy finding unusual ways to spend my birthday. When I was living in Singapore in 2009, the glossy pages of a travel magazine offered up the most interesting possibility yet. Fo Gang Shan, a Buddhist monastery in Taiwan, invited pilgrims to stay overnight for a nominal fee. Stay in serene surroundings with the opportunity to ask all the questions I want about Buddhism? Yes, please.

The flight to Taipei was four hours and Kaohsiung was a further two hours by high-speed rail. When I arrived at the station, the last stretch was a taxi to the monastery where Linda waited for me. A petite woman with glasses and an intensely short haircut shook my hand and smiled.

“Welcome to Fo Gang Shan, Jennifer. We hope you will enjoy your visit.” Her English was perfect. “I will show you the way to the pilgrim’s lodge.”     

I have been called many things in my life, but “pilgrim” was a new one for me. I hadn’t really thought of applying the word “pilgrimage” to my journey, but I supposed it was. I was about to turn 39 and I had been studying the tranquility of Buddhist artwork and temples with great fascination since arriving in Asia. I wanted to know how to obtain it. What was their secret? How were the monks able to sit for hours in complete and total contentment when my mind never stopped racing? If that’s what a pilgrimage is−a quest for information−then I’m on board with that.

“I was living in San Francisco after graduating from university,” Linda was saying, “and I was working so many hours just to pay for a car and a roof over my head−to just survive. It was no life. Here I can be of service and not worry about those things.”

I had asked her why she chose to follow the path of Buddhism and what had led her here. For me, as much as the idea of living in a beautiful sacred place and chucking corporate stress out the window had an appeal, I couldn’t imagine going through with it. The pull of the world’s creature comforts was too strong.

“Do you ever wonder if you made the right decision?” What I wanted to ask−but couldn’t−was, Do you ever regret it?

“All my decisions are the right decisions. I answered the call of Buddha and to question it would be to question him.” Her reply was straightforward. There was no wavering.I nodded and we continued walking. Linda showed me the Beautiful Life television studio where Buddhist programming was made. We peeked in on the hundreds of monks having their evening meal and heard their prayers before eating. I saw no one simply strolling like we were or sitting on any of the perfectly placed garden benches reflecting on their thoughts. Everyone had a job to do, just like anywhere else. Linda’s job was to look after the pilgrims.

We toured the entire compound, the kind of place where a little of its magic rubs off on you just by being there. I was invited to the evening meditation and chanting session and joined warily. In the back of my mind, the thought that someone would try to convert me or convince me to stay lingered. If I had understood Buddhism at all, I would have known how ridiculous that fear was. The ladies invited me in-men and women are always separate-and handed me a pillow to sit on and a prayer sheet in English. I tried to follow, but decided to sit silently instead. The hum of the chanting vibrated in my chest. The faces that surrounded me were soft and expressionless. Contentment swirled around the room and occasionally nudged me toward it. When it was time to leave, I was reluctant.

“The sunrise meditation is just before dawn. Make sure you leave early enough. Do not walk in late.” Linda warned.

First I was hanging out in a religious compound and now I was getting up before dawn to meditate? On my birthday? I didn’t recognize myself−but I wasn’t going to miss it either.

In jeans and sneakers, I walked towards the light. It sounds metaphorical, but isn’t. It was pitch black. The only light came from the main hall. Three golden Buddhas of grand proportion overlooked the faithful. Behind them, hundreds of lit candles danced in the breeze. I took a brown pillow from the monks and walked toward the designated section for women. The increase in people in this session increased the vibration tenfold. When the meditation began, the hum overtook my entire being.

Before I left, Linda escorted me to the top of the compound where another golden Buddha surveyed the river below. She pointed out a large drum that was rung by swinging something that looked like a mini battering ram into it and showed me how to do it. The resulting gong floated over the entire valley. When she handed me a small Buddha token to carry with me, I wondered how long I would be able to hold on to the calm vibration that Fo Gang Shan had given me as a birthday gift.

Today, I know the peaceful riverside place is accessible in my mind−untouched and waiting−as long as I don’t question it. Like Linda, I have to move forward knowing my decisions are the right ones. My persistent habit of questioning every opportunity was what made them disappear into thin air. This is the wisdom I have given to myself as a gift every year since.

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Silent Skye

All I wanted as a quiet place to relax. If that place came with sea views and stunning scenery, so much the better, right? The Isle of Skye offered all of that, along with the chance to see so much of Scotland. No one had to ask me twice.

My new husband and I drove from Newcastle to Skye over the course of a few weeks. We stopped in various locations, enjoying Glasgow for the first time and lesser known towns like Oban. Along the way, we encountered scenery so beautiful that it defied the imagination and characters so odd you thought you must be imagining them.

But the first hint of how special the drive would truly be was Eilean Donan Castle. This precious place is likely the most photographed castle in Scotland−possibly in the world. It sits on the shore where three lochs meet. Surrounded by Loch Duich, Loch Long, and Loch Alsh allows access by footbridge only. Aside from the reflective beauty of the lochs, the castle is remote. Despite its immense popularity with travelers, there were no crowds. In fact, there were only two other people there when we arrived at dusk, lending it a forlorn appeal. I wanted to keep her company, make sure she wasn’t lonely all by herself out there.

When we drove on, we did so in darkness. After the sun sets, the Highlands are very dark indeed. It’s a good thing that sheep are not nocturnal or the drive would have been much slower. They hold sway in daylight hours, daring you to get too close. The waterside house we rented outside Broadford was well-equipped with a homey feeling. We were excited to meet our landlord for the week, even if we barely understood a word she said.

The best surprise of the house was the upstairs master bathroom. It had two antique claw-foot bathtubs side by side. A small table in the middle was large enough for two crystal tumblers of Scotch whiskey−the perfect accompaniment for a long autumn soak in good company.

The only drawback of the house, more than a century old, was that I am sure we were sharing it with a third party. He wasn’t seen−for which I am grateful−but the way he could turn a damp room into a full-on frosty one left no question of his presence. I’m sure my new husband wondered what exactly he had done by marrying a woman only days earlier who believes in ghosts, but there was no getting out of it now. As long as I didn’t go upstairs alone, everyone−ghost included−was happy.

On the coffee table in the living room which looked out onto the sea was a book titled Favorite Skye Walks. We flipped from one page to another until we found the description for “an uncomplicated little walk” which sounded perfect. Little did we know that the author had quite a sense of humor.

Grateful that our first Scottish purchase had been sturdy hiking boots, we navigated razor-sharp shale cliffs first. Next came the soggy moors where those boots would have been lost for sure were they not tied with double knots. Finally standing waterside where we planned to open our picnic backpack, we found the peace that Skye had promised. No sound except for a bird or two and the gentle arrival of tiny waves was a miracle to behold after our normal life in Europe’s most densely-populated country. It was a wedding gift I’ve treasured ever since.

Driving the Highland roads brought so much wonder that it now seems like a dream. We drank Talisker whiskey at the source and discovered picturesque stone churches with open doors and complex stained-glass windows impossible to find today. We bought fresh scallops from a one-man white wooden stand who I swear had a bottle of that same whiskey at his feet. We came to an agreement with the sheep who seemed to own the roads, but only when they were good and ready.

It’s impossible to list all the magnetic qualities of the Isle of Skye or the Scottish Highlands. For that, I would require a few hundred pages and a great deal more time. The one thing I’ll leave you with is this: If you’re in need of renewal, depleted from the rat race and corporate games, you could do far worse than a journey to north Scotland. Consider yourself warned about their wicked sense of humor, rampant paranormal activity, and impossible-to-understand accent−but really, it’s all about negotiating the sheep. Just remember that up there, neither you nor they have anywhere you really need to be.

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