An Island of Spirituality

"No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path." ~~Buddha

You’ve seen one and you’ve seen’em all. That’s a feeling Taiwan could give you with its temple happy countryside. Taiwan is riddled with temples. Temple mania is what I kept thinking. And yes, from a distance, they all look quite similar, but if you take the time to really look at them and learn, you’ll find that no two temples are alike. 

I’ll be the first to admit I know nothing of these temples or Taiwan’s complex religious followings. But, I’ve been trying to learn because they fascinated me. They are an amazing splash of color standing out from the industrial feel of Taiwan’s cities. Bright colors of red, yellow, green, blue, and orange. Statues of dragons, tigers, lions, elephants and birds guarding doorways and rooftops. The elegant Bodhisattva around the corner inviting you to visit a wishing well. And of course, fat, jolly looking Buddhas everywhere. 

Taiwan is temple happy because the spirituality runneth over in this country. There is Buddhism, Taoism, Confucianism, and then Folk faith, I have learned. 

Taoist temples are the most exotic looking of the temples with their flashy colors and statues. They tend to be loud, very social places. Buddhist temples are a little more subdued and Confucius temples are very plain, simple. And quiet. Resembling a place you may sit and read a book in silence. Or say, philosophize, since the temple is dedicated to Confucius, one of our great philosophers and scholars. 

I got sucked into the temple mania of Taiwan. I have seen so many temples in the past two weeks I feel like my eyes could cross. Yet, I could sit for hours simply staring at them. The roof tops adorned with their dragons and tigers all tell a story, but I have no idea what everything represents. That was my mission while in Taiwan, but I soon found out it will take longer than two weeks to even begin to comprehend the complexities of these beliefs.

I am not a religious person, never have been. I don’t know if there is a God. I don’t know if there is a Heaven or Hell. I don’t know if I could or ever would believe in these things. But I do believe in spirituality. Even then, I can’t really put a description to it. I can’t sit and tell you exactly what I think spirituality is, or my role in it. I just feel that my connection with this world is spiritual. I find solace in nature. I have prayed to Mother Earth during times of need. I will sit for hours in the outdoors, in complete silence, until I feel the person who I am come back to me. This to me feels spiritual. Therefore, I believe it to be spirituality. 

I had gone to check out the Longshan temple in Taipei one of my first days in the country. It was easy to find, a short walk from the MRT exit. I walked to the entrance of the temple and hesitated before walking up the steps. I always do this before entering a temple. I’m never quite sure if I should be there. Perhaps I am interrupting some religious gathering by bringing my non-believing body to the premises. Last year in Indonesia some of the temples had restrictions. No revealing clothing, no cameras, must wear a sarong, no speaking, no women menstruating. Yes, that was a restriction. But so far in Hong Kong and now Taiwan, I had not met any such restrictions.

So I walked up the steps and into the front complex of the temple. It was large and beautiful. And it was busy. I had hit it at a time when worshipers were beginning to gather. 

A common thing to see with these temples are people lighting incense to pray to their various deities that the temple houses. A temple can be the home of one god or it can house several. It just depends. 

Longshan was a Buddhist temple and I found myself standing against the wall to watch without even really realizing it. Someone had begun to chant. That chant was spreading throughout the crowd. Devotees began to stand in lines, pulling out red books that I quickly understood to be prayer books. The cadence of the chanting rose as people stepped into formation. Some stood with eyes closed, lips whispered the words floating around the temple. I was in awe standing there. I had no idea what they were saying, but the words streamed around me, the beat pulsing in my blood. I could feel the emphasis of each syllable deep in my chest. It was a profound feeling. I looked around, elders stood or sat behind me, holding their red books, the words leaving their lips with such familiarity. I felt I was interrupting something very sacred. I felt like an intruder, especially since I knew absolutely nothing about Buddhism. 

 I noticed groups of people, perhaps voyeurs like myself, or worshippers, standing conversing with one another. As the chanting grew louder so did their social conversations. Really? Couldn’t they see what was going on around them? It seemed like the rudest thing. How could they be oblivious to this display of devout devotion surging around them? How could they stand there with their backs to the assembled line of bowing worshippers and laugh and carry on the way they were? I felt angry. I had been in Taiwan a mere three hours at that point. What I didn’t know was that temples were places to gather for devotion and for community. I had to go and look it up later because their lack of respect bothered me. 

I pushed away from the column I had been leaning against to explore the back section of the temple. As I walked, the chanting followed. Before I knew it, the melody of the words was in my head. The beat and sounds had become a song that my brain latched onto. Without realizing it, my lips started moving and I was whispering the song as I walked. I hummed the tune they chanted, lost in this world of religion, devotion, spirituality. Whatever you wanted to call it. 

I stopped again and stood watching as a procession of robed monks and nuns circulated the front hall, hands clasped in front of them, lips moving, fingers worrying wooden prayer beads. I felt something lift as I watched. Some weight I had been carrying fell away as their words lifted me up. 

Things are gonna be okay, I thought. 

What? 

I didn’t even know what it was that needed to be okay, but there I was, my inner monologue telling me so. 

So I guess, yeah, things are gonna be alright. 

I wanted more than anything to light a handful of incense and bow, waving the sticks up and then down as I saw the worshippers do. But something held me back. Fear? Maybe. Maybe I was afraid I would do it wrong. Or look silly, a westerner amongst strangers bowing to a God I knew nothing about. But I’d heard somewhere that Buddhism wasn’t strictly Buddhism. It combined facets to create an individual path of spirituality. That was why I was drawn to this experience. There was no one way. Or at least that was my take on it.

But who would I have prayed to? Or to what? And why? I didn’t know. A million things went thru my head. To this Earth? Thankful for the life I’d been given, the opportunities I’d had? For my family? For the unknown ahead of me? They seemed like selfish requests. 

I didn’t believe in the God of Christianity and I was sure He wasn’t anywhere in that temple anyway. The only thing I had ever come close to considering a God, was Mother Nature. And to be honest, we’d kind of been having a love hate relationship over the years. She hadn’t always been forgiving when I needed her to be. But isn’t that what God did? Forced to stand back when life was trying to teach you a lesson? 

Every time Mother Nature kicked me in the ass, I walked away knowing better for next time. No matter how much I found myself swearing at her, I always ended up thanking her in the end anyways.

I didn’t know any of the deities represented there. Some temples house the God of Travel, the God of Wealth, the God of Cities, and the God of War. I didn’t want to accidently pray to the God of Fertility in my ignorance. There was a very good chance She was there as this deity tends to draw a lot of women to pray for the welfare of their children or future offspring. I had noted a high percentage of female devotees bowing away. I avoided that area of the temple. Since my womb is not yearning for the invasion of a fetus, I restrained myself and just took it all in, my lips moving with the rhythm of the chant floating around me.