The Temple

Alright so this was actually written for my Core Japan class after an overnight stay at a temple (Upstate--temple is a relative term). Anyway we were assigned to write about our experience and here it is. It's not my best but I kind of liked how it turned out.It's pretty long though, so I think i'll post it in installments.

The Nature of a Temple
It is three a.m. on a Saturday morning. The haunting lyrics of Gollum’s Song are creeping off Hamilton theatre’s one decently sized screen. I have to be up in three hours. Great. Admittedly, visiting a monastery sounds like a lot of fun in theory, minus the laps we’re apparently going to have to run, but nothing will take away the suckiness of getting three hours of sleep—even the chance to become a mystical monk for a day.

Three hours later…
I’ll spare you all the ugliness of the blaring alarm. Yes, I am up. And honestly surprised at how awake I am in mind and spirit—clearly I was born to be monk. Never mind that I’m a Christian female who plans to see the world. My bags are packed—a smart move from the night before—but what do you bring to a monastery anyway? Sleeping bags? Brooms? A Katana wakizashi set? Monks, right. No violence. I sneak out of my room, trailing wisps of envy at my sleeping roommate as I go. I said I was awake, being happy about it is another story. As can be expected, no one was up and as I slinked a long, it felt like no one in this world was awake but me. No one was in this world but me. I stood at the center of a dark void and watched as stillness chased way the ripples upon the pond I waded in. Complete stillness. I stopped my stumbling steps down the Dana staircase and peered into the sky for the first time in a while. Birds were chirping unceremoniously, and the sky…the rosy red fingers of Dawn lay splayed across, as if against a misting windowpane. I could not see the sunrise. Unnerved I continued on my way, uneasily approaching my weekend.

My legendary energy left me somewhere between breakfast and the bus. Perhaps it was our roiling group of almost hormones: four girls, too many boys. Perhaps it was the incessant talk of sacred anime and blissful console games; I was reminded yet again of what a dork I was. Perhaps it was the three hours of sleep. Whatever it was, after some discouraging words from my sempai, “Built in the seventies…the monks aren’t Japanese either…” I crashed.

Several bumpy hours later….
Sensei snuck us a peek at the main entrance before verifying our room assignments. I felt like I had been let in on some great secret, the contents of which I was unsure. My weekend had begun. Authentic had been my first thought upon seeing our home for the night. Authentic and beautiful. That unnerving sensation of stillness found me again; I found I needed to distract myself a moment before it left again. My fellow monks in training rose to the task. Hushed giggles and way too cool robes disrupted the tranquility of the place. I took peace in the returning chaos. Looking back now, I have to wonder why.
We settled into our rooms, bristling with anticipation. Deciding who bunked with who became the goal of the hour, not the journey we had all unwittingly embarked on.
We were to convene in the room that I later came to recognize as the main meditation chamber. Of course, being as we are, we got lost. Badly. We slipped along smooth buffed wood floors and eventually finding the meditation chamber became a game of sorts. Should we ask the cooks? Where was sensei? He would know. We must have passed the actual room three times at least. I remember giving up, allowing myself to follow their innocent whims. It was Naveed who eventually found the way. It figures; he was a monk too. That or a Jedi.