A Buddhist Pilgrimage to the Mountain in the Sea — Part 1
Sowing the Seeds (from Here to Shanghai)
A pilgrimage is a journey that happens on many levels. On the surface, it is a trip that takes place in this world, and runs from one physical location to another. Peel away that first layer, and you start to find that the travel goes through not only space, but also through time — it goes out of this world into countless others, and it runs along the hidden valleys, forgotten rivers and roads of the mind.
In the physical sense, our pilgrimage started in March 2019, in Paris, when we got on our plane to Shanghai, through Amsterdam. In a deeper, and in many ways much more real sense, it started long before that, not with a “where”, but with a “who”.
こころ疲れて | Kokoro tsukarete
山が海が | yama ga umi ga
しすぎる | utsukushisugiru
My heart is weary —
The mountains, the sea
are too beautiful.
— Haiku by Santōka Taneda
One symbol that is used to describe spiritual development in the Buddhist tradition since the Buddha’s time is a journey on a raft, or boat that crosses a perilous body of water. The turbulent waves underneath are the ups and downs of life, which can take us in unexpected directions at any moment — they can raise us up high above, but can also pull us down into its depths. Its torrents form the vortices of our mind, the habitual cycles that we create for ourselves, going through the same stories over and over again, until we learn to let go, and look at the whole thing calmly, and mindfully. That is when the journey towards what lies beyond it all becomes possible.
One thing that becomes apparent to anyone who starts the voyage on the boat of wisdom and meditation, is that our minds, and “things” in the outside world are far more interconnected than they seem at first glance. The boundaries between our decisions and things that were “meant to happen” become blurred. Rather than a random course of events, our journey starts to look more guided, a path that acquires more and more meaning as it unfolds within itself. This sense of meaning, or hidden guidance can come in many forms — to us it took the shape of the Bodhisattva of Compassion in the Buddhist tradition: known to most by the name of Guan Shi Yin (觀世音), or simply, Guanyin (觀音).
Both my wife and I are rather rational people, and admittedly our rational outlook has been one of the main factors that drew us towards Buddhism. We are not alone with that: it seems to me that in today’s spiritually arid landscape in the West, Buddhism provides a unique oasis that answers to the human yearning to deeper meaning in a way that can also make sense to a mind that has been brought up with the ideals of Western Enlightenment. It doesn’t even have to be spiritual: there are plenty of people who make good use of the traditional practices and insights of Buddhism to train their minds, without making any sort of reference to anything that would evoke a sense of religiosity. We are, however, not these people.
We believe that Buddhism should be the most inclusive affair imaginable (in fact, it is already that, creating a rainbow of different traditions within itself from the strict traditionalism of the Theravada, to the sometimes extravagant practices of the Tantra), and that you don’t have to have any sorts of spiritual conviction to benefit from the insight and practices that Buddhist tradition offers. However, our personal practice always included the irrational, not because it makes sense, but because of our personal experience of its presence and impact on our lives. Our relationship with Guanyin is a big part of that. All we know that She is real, and She has been guiding our boat towards our next shore again and again, providing protection, and answering our prayers.
At one point I lost my wallet with literally all my money and papers inside, in one of the worse areas in Budapest. It slipped out of my pocket in a fast food restaurant, and it was left there, unguarded on the seat. I was a student back then, with only an irregular source of income, so when I realised that it was missing, around half an hour later and many blocks away, I experienced a sinking feeling, that could’ve very easily turned into downright hopelessness, if not for a mantra that Guanyin teaches in the Lotus Sutra, one of the most popular Buddhist scriptures:
…if all of them together with one voice cry out, “Na Mo Guan Shi Yin Pu Sa”, or “Praise the Bodhisattva Guan Shi Yin”, by calling that name they will be freed from danger. Wu Jin Yi Bodhisattva, such are the wonderful powers of the great Bodhisattva Guan Shi Yin.
— Lotus Sutra, Chapter 25: The Universal Gateway
As I traced my steps back to the restaurant, I kept myself steady on the mantra. “Na Mo Guan Shi Yin Pu Sa, Na Mo Guan Shi Yin Pu Sa”. I didn’t let my mind wander off.
Against all likelihood, it turns out that an employee found my wallet before a guest did. After a small verification that my face matches the photo if the ID in my wallet, I got it all back, not a cent missing.
Of course, the skeptic in me rebels against explanation requiring a supernatural intervention. But is it really wise to be always skeptical?
松はみな | Matsu wa mina
枝垂れて | eda tarete
南無観世音 | Namu Kanzeon
Pine branches hang down
Heavy with the chant:
Na Mo Guan Shi Yin.
— Haiku by Santōka Taneda
Another of the many times Guanyin made a difference in our lives was when my wife’s father got ill. He needed to have a surgery that was dangerous in itself, but after it his situation became critical, and in those days the worse seemed like a very possible outcome, of which we were very aware after talking to the doctors in our family.
At that time we were living in London, and my wife travelled home to see her parents, to support them through this difficult time. She had already lost one of her grandmothers not long before, still grieving, dealing with the difficulty of the loss. She prayed to Guanyin:
“If my father recovers, I make a vow to make the pilgrimage to your mountain at Putuo”.
A few days later, her father was released from hospital, the immediate danger to his life gone. It was another, much greater miracle in our lives, one that planted the karmic seeds of the pilgrimage that would take place a few years later.
In the sacred topography of China, there is a holy Buddhist mountain in each of the four cardinal directions, corresponding to the Four Great Bodhisattvas — great beings that represent important qualities of the Buddha Mind, and mindfulness practice.
To the North lies Mount Wutai, the mountain of Wenshu Bodhisattva (Manjushri in Sanskrit), who represents liberating Insight, and is connected to the element of Air.
To the West lies Mount Emei, the mountain of Puxian Bodhisattva (Samantabhadra in Sanskrit), who represents diligent Practice, and is connected to the element of Fire.
To the South lies Mount Jiuhua, the mountain of Dizang Bodhisattva (Ksitigarbha in Sanskrit), who represents the motivation and Vow to save all beings, and is connected to the element of Earth.
Finally, to the East, on an island in the sea lies Mount Putuo, the mountain of Guanyin Bodhisattva (Avalokitesvara in Sanskrit), who represents Compassion, and is fittingly connected to the element of Water.
On April 1, 2019, after an eleven hours flight we landed in Shanghai, tired, dizzy, and excited. The seeds we have planted have come to fruition. Guanyin has guided us to this time and place, so that we can fulfil the vow that has been made a few years before.
To be continued.
