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Featured Destination: Tai Shan, China |
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| Text
by Craig Brown |
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The evening before,
I had made a mental note of the sign reading "Message, Acupuncture
and Moxibustion Bone-Setting." Perhaps it was a premonition or, more
likely, an unconscious acknowledgement of my body's limitations.
Anyway, there I lay in a tiny room - paint peeling
and bare concrete floors - with a few other comrades in pain. My legs
were jerking involuntarily as waves of electricity hit their mark.
I had come for an acupuncture treatment for overworked leg muscles,
and now found myselflying face down, a dozen needles protruding from
my legs, with wires connecting the needles (and muscles) to a battery.
The needles I had expected, but the electrical hookup was a surprise
- I supposed it to be the latest in Chinese acupuncture.
I had spent the day climbing Mount Tai, which the guidebooks pooh-poohed
as a sissy's path made up of a stone walkway of over 6,000 steps.
My leg muscles were passionate in their disagreement - especially
as I made my descent down the " Ladder to the Gate of Heaven,"
a near vertical drop where the stone steps seemed to be arranged for
torture rather than convenience. |
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| While lying in pain in that dingy little
room, I was content knowing that I had climbed the most sacred of
Taoist China's five sacred peaks. The five mountains represent the
four cardinal directions and center - China's historic core. Of these
five, Mount Tai, the eastern mountain from where the sun rises, is
considered the most sacred. |
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In the Taoist
cosmology, the sunrise signifies birth, renewal and the spring season. Mount
Tai is where life originates, and where the human sole returns for final
judgment. Mount Tai has been a sacred mountain for almost 3,000 years.
Back in the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644) it is said that hundreds of thousands
came each year to pay their respects to the Emperor of the East - or Jade
Emperor, as he is sometimes called - the mountain sprit that is believed
to inhabit the peak. Five of China's early emperors made the climb, though
they were carried most of the way. Confucius made it to the top, declaring
the world to be small. And when Mao saw the sunrise from the summit, he
announced, "the East is Red." |
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The day I made my climb, I did it along with several
thousand old women, young children, lovers and college students. Some
took buses and then the tram that goes almost to the top, but many
opted to hike up, as I did.
To my chagrin, the only others who seemed to be hurting as much as
me were the unfortunate porters that make their living hauling fuel,
food and drink up the torturous trail with poles across their shoulders
balancing a bundled load on each end. Like their father's before them,
they make the climb every day, and it shows - with their massive calf
muscles and bent, but, incredibly muscled backs, all on lean body
frames.
They may huff and puff their way to the top, but once relieved of
their burden, they merrily lope down the mountain. |
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But even with those incredible bodies,
a few of them were lying next to me, their shoulders and legs jerking
involuntarily from electrical currents along with my aching legs.
During three of the earliest dynasties, 72 emperors made it to the
base of the mountain to make offerings and ask the Grand Emperor of
the Eastern Peak for good weather and a bountiful harvest. When emperors
completed their pilgrimages to the mountain, they often left behind
memorials of their visit - on and around Mount Tai are 22 temples,
819 stone memorials and 1,018 cliffside stone inscriptions. Most of
these can be found on the path to the summit, including several gates,
numerous temples and the impressive Diamond Sutras (the mountain was
sacred to Buddhists as well as Taoists), all carved into the streambed
about 1,500 years ago and washed for centuries by runoff from the
spring rains.
Upon reaching the summit plateau, visitors pass through the majestic
South Gate, built 600 years ago and once believed to be the entrance
to heaven. Just beyond the gate is heaven Street, a row of shops,
small hotels, and restaurants where many noodle-makers stand - rolling,
slapping, twisting and twirling dough into fine strands before chucking
it into a boiling pot.
A little further along is the impressive Azure Cloud Temple, dedicated
to the daughter of the Emperor of the East, Bixia Yuanjun, the goddess
of the Azure Clouds and a cult figure once worshipped throughout northern
China.
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Near the summit, on a granite cliff, is
the famed "Essay on Mount Tai," penned by Emperor Xuanzong
and carved over a thousand years ago. On the summit is the temple
to the Jade Emperor, where a bronze statue of the Emperor is housed,
and the final stop for pilgrims.
China's communist rulers have portrayed religion and folk beliefs
as silly superstitions. And most people that come to Tai Mountain
are curious tourists rather than believers. |
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A Chinese professor I talked with
on the summit said that " only old people, rich people
and businessmen" believe in the sprit of Tai Mountain.
But this may be an oversimplification, I saw many people making
offerings and paying homage at the temples. And young Taoist
priest, dressed in somber black with their long hair tied in
a bun, are once again residents of the Azure Cloud Temple.
Mount Tai's largest temple is actually at the base of the mountain,
in the town of Ta'in. |
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The Tai Temple (Temple to the Emperor of Mount
Tai), is one of China's most impressive, with five major halls
and many smaller buildings, courtyards and pavilions - surrounded
by a wall and within a pleasing park-like setting. It is at
this temple that China's emperors bowed before the huge statue
of the Jade Emperor and made their offerings. This is also the
point where believers begin their hike to the summit. Stripped
of royal patronage, the temple became inactive in the 1920s,
and today it stands as a museum and monument to a time when
Mount Tai was first among China's Sacred Mountains.
That evening, as I limped away from the acupuncturist, I was
drawn to the actively in a nearby park. In a basketball court,
couples were ballroom dancing around a disco light. Not far
away, a group was practicing Tai Chi with swords. And next to
them, a young man's soothing voice was leading elderly participants
through breathing and slow-movement exercises.
With Mount Tai hulking in the background, I felt completely
comfortable and at peace. Yet, I couldn't help but fell a little
sad knowing that after 3,000 years of veneration from royalty
and peasants, the Emperor of the East Mountain was now merely
an historical curiosity for most Chinese. |
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| Craig J. Brown is a professor
in the Department of English Language and Literature at Kyungil
University. |
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