Calligraphy alley – Xi’an

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During my week in Xi’an, I went back several times to calligraphy alley.

It is actually a main alley with a few small side streets, ending in the Stele Forrest Beilin Museum, housing some of the earliest examples of Chinese writing.

But it is the alley with its stores filled with brushes of all sizes, kilometers of rice paper rolled up or folded, the smell of ink and the seriousness of the buyers that attracted me most. I was one of them, checking each bush for its softness and feel between my fingers. I unrolled paper and opened exercise notebooks, taking all my time while choosing a few items.

I returned to the same store a few times, making friends with the owner, love for calligraphy being our common language. She spoke no English, and I speak no Chinese. My nine year old son was equally fascinated, and the lady kindly let him try out several brushes before he settled for one.

As I walked, I could only imagine what it must have been a thousand years ago, as Xi’an was the start of the silk road and an important center of learning. A town more than 6’500 years old, it became the political and cultural center of China in the XIth c. BC and continued to be so for almost 900 years, of which 300 where under the highly sophisticated Tang Dynasty.

I imagined old Tao masters and Confucian students walking down the street looking for the perfect brush, smelling ink stones and appreciating their blackness, while exchanging arguments on whether wisdom is acquired through living or learning.

Having been an important Buddhist center as well, I also pictured monks in loose robes and small umbrellas, gently feeling the thin rice paper, and choosing the best one to copy the Sutras Xuan Zang had brought from his odyssey across India in the VIIth c., now housed in the Giant Wild Goose Pagoda in Xi’an.

I felt most humble when I was there. This was not the site of some major battle or conquest, as so many historical places tend to be, but one of knowledge and beauty. I think anyone would have felt the same.

Thank you for reading.

Kenza.

Photos I took in Xi’an and at the Stele Forest Beilin Museum – June 2018.

Wan Chai market

 

Tucked between gigantic buildings, erect monsters made of glass and steel, where people are very very busy breathing artificial air and adding up countless numbers, I found the small market.

There, colours vibrated from the bright green of long string beans (I had never seen such long ones!) to the earthly hues of fat bamboo shoots to the yellow of tender orchids.

And I could feel the breeze coming from the South China sea!

Merchants smiled while shouting the prices of their goods.

The smell of recently fished fish intermingled with the steam of dumplings and the scent of ginger flowers.

It felt like home. I bought deliciously fresh apricots and many handfuls of raisins from Xinjiang Province.

Finally, sensations I could feel, sprinkles of humanity I could touch.

Kenza.

The Terracotta Army

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The terracotta warriors they call them.

Yet peaceful and often smiling they stand with their topknots and shoes, and without swords.

A few rest on the ground, asleep.

What is our role in this play? To witness the greatness, the whims of an Emperor who never had any misgivings about destroying human life so that he may have a place in heaven and fight the armies of the beyond?

The beauty and calm of all the warriors – what are we to make of them? Should we make something of them?

The sheer size and details are astounding: the perfection of the eyes and the wrinkles on the foreheads of the generals, the slight bellies and pointed shoes of the mid-level officers, and the peaceful faces of the common soldiers standing erect.

They seem to be waiting as though to welcome rather than to fight. Maybe history is just a trick and what the Emperor wanted as threatening, comes to us as peaceful and silent.

Kenza.

Illustration: A photo I took at the Terracotta Army site built in 210-209 BCE, following the orders of Qin Shi Wang, First Emperor of China – Xi’an, China, June 2018.

Lotus

In the large temple,
the gilded Buddha and Bodhisattva statues towered over me.
Their bodies stiff,
their eyes sharing nothing.

It is the lotus that spoke to me.
In silence,
it taught me humility
and simple beauty.

Kenza.

Inspired by a visit to the Jade Buddha Temple in Shanghai, China in June 2018. The same thing happened to me when I visited the giant Buddha in Kamakura, Japan, a few years ago. It was in a rose tilting under the weight of rain drops that I found serenity, not the giant metal statue.

中国 (Zhōng-guó) – The Middle Kingdom

 

My son and I are traveling to the Middle Kingdom.

We hope to glean some wisdom – a bit of Tao, a bit of Chan, and certainly many noodles. The latter are the ones holding the wisdom. Just ask any sage.

I know that through our travels some smile dust will stick to our robes, the dust left by all the smiles that will greet us along the way.

And I promise that when we return, I will spread some here for all of you to enjoy.

Thank you.

Kenza.