Longevity Mountain (5)—Furnace Talk

Click here for the introduction (first post) to the Round and Square series "Longevity Mountain."
Click here for the table of contents (second post) to the Round and Square series "Longevity Mountain."

Longevity Mountain 1          Longevity Mountain 2          Longevity Mountain 3          Longevity Mountain 4 
Longevity Mountain 5          Longevity Mountain 6          Longevity Mountain 7          Longevity Mountain 8
Longevity Mountain 9          Longevity Mountain 10        Longevity Mountain 11        Longevity Mountain 12

[a] Centered  RL

During the last two weeks of July and into early August I will be posting segments from my project dealing with five Chinese mountains that are often referred to as "the sacred mountains of China." They represent each of the "five directions" found in early Chinese thought (think of the ones you know and then add the middle as the fifth); they have figured prominently in Chinese political culture, travel, and religion for 3,000 years. I have spent almost 400 days on the mountains, and am working on a series of books that detail the mountains and their "home" areas. Mountains were said to connect earth (thought to be "square") with heaven (thought to be "round"). The entire project is called—this may or may not surprise you—Round and Square.

One volume is planned for each mountain, beginning with the southern peak, Mt. Heng, in Hunan province. The reasoning behind this choice of a starting place took me months to develop, but suffice it to say that these books will take the reader up and down each of the five sacred (sometimes called "Daoist") mountains and around the lunar calendar in an exploration of Chinese life and culture. As an introduction to the series, I have included an introduction that is based on a recent book proposal and a full "sample" table of contents. These are followed by nine "scenes" from Longevity Mountain that are meant to give readers a sense of the project as a whole. Photographs used in this series were taken during my travels, unless otherwise indicated. My photos are marked "RL."

Scene Five

Furnace Talk

[b] Burning  RL

The center of the religious action takes place in the courtyard, no matter how the pilgrims got there, and it is the scene of private and small group drama. The right hand incense “storehouse” (there are parallel storehouses) is burning hotly today, and people who approach to throw in their incense, hell money, and firecrackers feel the heat and back off to a distance of a meter or more before tossing in their offerings. Many hit their marks, and a few do not; unburned incense and hell money litter the area outside the flaming furnace, yet the smell of incense is thick in the courtyard. Every few minutes relative calm is punctuated by the snap of firecrackers, and some people toss them in, cover their ears, and run. The smell of incense, the sputter of firecrackers, and the occasional sound of the distant bell and drum envelope the courtyard.

[c] Bowing  RL

One family bows three times, walks toward the stove—it is the size of a comfortable log cabin engulfed in flames from within—before pausing and tossing in their incense sticks. The little son doesn’t dare get too close, and finally gives his incense sticks to his father. Seeing her son’s consternation, the mother does the same, and a democratic scene turns awkwardly to one of paternal deference. The little kin group walks back, sorts through its bags of hell money, approaches the stoves again...and then hands the money to the father. In goes the hell money. As though rising to the occasion, he makes a slight bow toward the fires, turns, slaps his hands, and leads the family away.

The courtyard alternately fills and empties as people fulfill their duties. Another family poses for a picture in the center of the courtyard with the grand temple palace in the background. Mother teaches tiny son to hold up his fingers in the obligatory “V” sign found on pictures all over China—since Nixon’s visit forty years ago. He clenches his little fist; she gently buries his hand in hers and holds up two fingers for both of them. Enculturation. Rule. Force. (治). Nearer the stove, with no one else around in a moment of quiet, an elderly man bows deeply with large, elaborate incense sticks, walks slowly, gravely, toward the stove, pauses, and—despite the intense heat—nears the stove and solemnly drops in the sticks. 

[d] Bourdieu  RL

Across the way, at the identical left-side stove, an attendant sweeps with his straw broom. Red plastic bags swirl in the peculiar climactic conditions of the courtyard—hot, humid summer breezes mixed with red-hot intensity from the stove. The bags become so many leaves in the temple wind. Pilgrims reach the courtyard, take their incense sticks and hell money from the auspicious red-colored bags, go about their prayers, and leave the bags lying on the ground. Sacred litter. The layers of heat and summer wind do the rest, and the courtyard is alternately dotted by them and swept clean with straw brooms.

A large tour group approaches from the north, the members’ excitement as thick as the incense in the burners. This is group religious activity, to be sure. They make a spontaneous set of rows as they face the burners and begin bowing, their orange travel group caps and incense sticks moving in individualized harmony, if large scale cacophony. Up, down, up, down, up, down, walk, (bump), throw. The prayers and offerings of over thirty people pour out of the stovepipes onto the courtyard.

[e] Pausing  RL

Another group forms from scattered small sets of pilgrims gathering from north and south. Grandmother and granddaughter stand side-by-side. Granddaughter, a high school student finished with what Americans call eleventh grade, tries to concentrate on her own offering, but is transfixed by her elderly travel mate. Grandma knows what she is doing. “Grandma, stop!,” she shouts. The old woman, surprised but placid, pauses. “Let me take a picture!” Grandma waits. She poses high, with straight back and incense sticks pointing toward the sky; she poses low, with sticks almost touching the ground. “Now take a picture of me!” Grandma works the camera technology better than granddaughter works the ancient techniques. Grandma helps her kin hold the sticks appropriately, tells her to hold still, and takes the picture. After that, it is just a matter of performing the “real” bows and depositing their offerings.

[f] Inquisitive  RL

While I am watching this scene, a family of four—two adults, a daughter, and her daughter’s friend from Changsha—sits down on the bench next to me. This is unusual. They do not stare, but rather rest and chat amongst themselves. The little friends—this is the manner in which all children under twelve are addressed in China—are inquisitive, however. “Are you from China?” This might be the oddest question I have heard in a quarter century in these environs. I suppose that I could be the member of an ethnic minority from the tribe called “Western Sinology.”  I explain that I was born in the northern part of the United States, and describe cold North Dakota winters, with the temperature dipping to forty degrees below zero (Centigrade and Fahrenheit). The girls enact a shiver, and say they are glad they are from the south. I ask them their ages. They say eight and nine, then volunteer that one has just finished first grade and the other has just finished second. They are counting “traditionally,” with one year being given at birth—a problem that trips up inquisitive foreigners all the time.

We tell stories. I have them tell me the famous story about Sima Guang saving his young friend who was drowning in a palatial urn. One shouts "we read that in first grade!"  I say, "I know!"  After they describe little Sima breaking the vase, I tell them the story of George Washington and the cherry tree. Then I show them Washington on a dollar bill I still happen to have. "Is he dead?," the first-grader asks. I explain that he lived at the same time as the Qianlong emperor in the Qing dynasty (r. 1736-1796), and that he has "passed away."  I use that term (過世; "leave the world") consciously, with respect for a historical figure. Dad says, "Washington is like our Chairman Mao."  I agree with dad, thinking back with a little embarrassment to my time at modern China’s Mount Vernon a few days ago. The older girl exclaims, "Chairman Mao is dead too!"  I nod that she is correct, and emphasize that he passed away in 1976. The mother scolds the girls for using such direct language, and then pauses before calmly explaining that it is not polite to use the word "die" (死) in these cases, and that one should really say the more polite phrase "leave the world." 

[g] Questions  RL

This goes on for some time, and I teach them how to answer the inevitable question from Americans, "What grade are you in?"  It always stumps little friends and their parents, because the cultural equation is entirely different in the two countries. It is the single-most relevant point of misunderstanding in everyday conversation for travelers, and I have taken it as my challenge to teach Chinese children how to answer the question all Americans will ask—what grade are you in?

I always say that in China the questions are like this (these are the ones people ask me):

1-Where are you from (which country are you from)?

2-How old are you?

3-Where (in China) are you living?

Americans tend to ask (children) in this order:

1-(Hello). How are you?

2-What is your name?

3-What grade are you in?

4-Where are you from?

It is possible to quibble with the order, but the key is that I have met few students in China who can answer (in its “English” phrasing) the "grade" question. Even in Chinese, it somehow feels stilted—there is no problem answering, but most children give a confused look, as if to say "but why are you asking?”  Then there is the problem of ordinal numbers ("I am in third grade" as opposed to "I am in three grade). On top of that, there is the bigger problem of "grades" themselves. Yesterday, a fifteen year old answered the question—which I dutifully asked in English, so she could practice—by saying (grammatically and culturally correctly) "I am in grade one."  She meant "the first year of high school." I taught her that, in order for Americans to understand, she needs to convert to a K-12 (1-12) system. She did some thinking and then exclaimed, "I am in tenth grade!"

***  ***

[h] Throw  RL

In the midst of our long conversation, there must have been a tumult by the furnaces, because—our goodbyes completed—I am surprised to see puddles of evaporating water in the courtyard. Fire and rescue. As I, too, prepare to move on, I watch closely a final, small drama played out before the stoves. A young woman, alone, prays intently as she holds her incense sticks. Her supplication continues for some time, her lips moving slightly and her eyes tightly closed. She bows gravely three times in succession, then carries her incense sticks toward the burners before stopping suddenly. She looks right and left. No one is around. She tentatively begins what appears to be an anticipatory motion in advance of throwing the sticks. She stops. She looks around again, spotting an attendant in the corner. She walks over to him and he makes an exaggerated motion with his arms.

          “Throw!”
 

She walks back to the furnaces and gets as close as she can. Turning her face from the heat, she begins her windup again, then stops.

          “Throw them!” shouts the attendant.

This time she does, tossing them adeptly into the flames. Waiting for the smoke to puff out the vent, she turns and walks away, visibly concerned.

Longevity Mountain 1          Longevity Mountain 2          Longevity Mountain 3          Longevity Mountain 4 

Longevity Mountain 5          Longevity Mountain 6          Longevity Mountain 7          Longevity Mountain 8

Longevity Mountain 9          Longevity Mountain 10        Longevity Mountain 11        Longevity Mountain 12

NEXT
Into the Valley of Buddhist Sound
The road takes an easy grade up past shops, fields, and the Longevity Cauldron. I buy my ticket, and then take a detour into a place of quiet paths, flowing water, and Buddhist sound.