My husband and I were headed to Ukiah, California, which is about an hour-and-a-half from our house, to do some errands. Since we were going to be there during the lunch hour, I looked online to find an interesting restaurant and Jyun Kang Vegetarian Restaurant popped up.
This eatery definitely sounded unique, perhaps because it is located in the City of Ten Thousand Buddhas, a monastic community. We drove through the Gate of Three Arches, stopped at the administrative office and completed our required registration thanks to a friendly bald monk clad in brown robes. The modest building was surrounded by shrieking peacocks fanning out their plumage, which was simultaneously jarring and serene.
We were given directions to walk down Proper Speech Avenue or Wisdom Way before arriving at the entrance on Vigor Way. Tall white iris, winking floral grass and buzzing insects greeted us. A tiger swallowtail butterfly even posed patiently for a snapshot.
Once inside, I was a bit surprised that the small room was plain. Perhaps I was expecting carved red lacquer Buddhas, yellow chairs or frescoes of luscious fruit offerings painted on the walls. We ate our noodles and rolls amid loud chatter. Had I expected silence? I shrugged as we left, slightly disappointed.
Afterwards we walked past Buddha Hall. Its doors were open and a service of song was in session. The music wafted out, unlike Western compositions, and sounded exotic to my ears. A fence of wisteria curled sweet scents into my nostrils and I spied a long table laden with food offerings. When we stepped inside, ten thousand golden Buddhas stared at us from a sea of red. Yellow cushions lined the floor. Everything I expected had now come to be. I had just needed to stroll down Patience Way.
All photos © Sondra Sula.
I imagine the Desert Fathers and Mothers lived in crude structures, and when I caught sight of a skeletal teepee fashioned of narrow tree trunks and framed by a dramatic, smoky sky, I thought of them. There is a mystical feeling I get when I walk the deserted, sandy beaches here, where people have created temporary lives, perhaps for just a few hours.
I come across an alcove made of branches, inviting me to sit down, tucked into its embrace. It’s a perfect place to meditate, to seek God’s wisdom as those who made their homes in the desert did.
Nearby a sawhorse made of sticks serves as a storage area for firewood and kindling. It’s ready and waiting for night’s descent, when it can fuel fire for warmth and light. Over the ages many have contemplated existence while looking into mesmerizing orange flames.
And then I reach a tabernacle with worshipful offerings placed on top: a stone, a pile of sand, a seed pod. Holiness hangs in the air. I breathe in. I feel Wisdom enter my body, gathered from all who sought God through solitude in the past, as well as future seekers. I feel the fire, smell the sacred smoke. I have entered the tabernacle where all are one.
Sondra Sula's Blog: The Nature of Spirituality 