Langmusi Monistaries and Sky Burials

Hannah and I arrived in the small town of Langmusi, after a long backbreaking ride in the van. Langmusi lies on the northern border of Sichuan and Gansu, each province claims half of the town. The landscape is perhaps the most beautiful I've seen in China (some people call this area Eastern Tibet, and it is included in some sort of Tibetan Autonomous Zone, but we do not know the official classification), with green rolling mountains, deep blue skies, and pigs, sheep, and yaks grazing everywhere. The town people are a mixture of Tibetan nomad shepherds, farmers, and monks, as well as some Han Chinese and Hui (Muslim) Chinese as well. There are two monasteries in the town, one in each province. We came across conflicting reports as to whether these institutions were in competition or not, but they both come from the yellow hat sect of Tibetan Buddhism. The monks all seemed quite playful, like perpetual children, wrestling and giving each other headlocks even as older men.

We woke early the next morning to watch the Tibetan monks pray and eat (supposedly they do this at the same time, but we did not see them eat). You can tell they love to eat, and are well fed, as can see form their round bellies. Arriving at the temple at 7am, we were invited in. The monks were seated on cushions being lead in a chant. We stood in the shadows of a back corner wishing to be unnoticed, however some of the young curious monks could still not take their eyes off of us. Large colorful cylindrical prayer rugs hung from the ceiling while the front of the prayer rooms was lined with statues of the Buddha, perhaps of some of their Lamas.

The prayer leader was an older monk with a gruff voice that sounded like pumping the gas of a motorcycle--Cycling in a hypnotic tone, occasionally getting louder then fading again. Others banged a gong or blew the horn at times. Some of the young monks were running up and down the aisles washing other hands with water or doing other tasks, and when they could, they wold give each other a playful jab, like little children at camp. A large bouncer-like monk, wearing shoulder-pads and a long robe walked the aisles ready to chastise young ones for disobedience, slapping two who were talking.

We then headed to the next monastery, where we were given a tour of the temple. Our tour was in Chinese, so I am unsure I understood everything. Statues of various gods line the opening of the temple, all very colorful, and like the other temple the room has cylindrical prayer rugs hanging from the ceiling. In the front are statues of the previous 6 Lamas as well as their prayer books. Behind the pulpit lies a back room that only the monks can go in, which has the statues of the Buddha. The progressions through the temple goes from the gods for the common people, lamas for beginning monks, and the Buddha for those who have reached a level of enlightenment.

On the hills behind this monastery, many Tibetan Sky Burials are performed. Soon after death, the body is brought to the top of death, the body is brought to the top of the hill, where it is dismembered. Various organs are remove and placed on the rocks of the burial area to allow the vultures and other scavengers to eat the body. This allows the quick return of the body to the world, as it is only a vehicle of the spirit. We observed this from a distance, as it is inappropriate to be too close. However, the vultures did not swoop down, possibly due to our presence of one rude traveler who refused to retreat. Later in the day we returned to the the sky burial site, and two young monks came there, also, perhaps, to fulfill a curiosity about death. Together, we all approached the remains. They covered their noses, complaining of the smell, although Hannah and I could not smell anything except smoke. Perhaps culturally they smell this particular smoke and incense and associate it with death. We could only make out a foot and a sternum from the charred remains. Less than the body itself, what struck us most was this shared moment of curiosity about death which we shared with the two monks. Despite the seeming gruesomeness of the scene, it was a the seeming gruesomeness of the scene, there was a quiet and peaceful moment of shared silence against the backdrop of a tremendous blue sky and green rolling hills.