When I was a child, there was a narrow ditch next to the brick kiln yard in the south of the village, and I listened to the older generation, which used to be a temple dedicated to the bodhisattva of "Mr. Five", and once the incense was at its peak. When I was a child, although there were still some incense candles on the embankment, there was only rubble left, and later it became a production team's field, where I used to hold baskets of rice high on my shoulders.
For many years, slow reading, reading the world, reading people, the elements of hatred in the body have gradually been dialyzed out and decomposed, and the chaotic mind has more or less tended to be clear. Occasionally, I will go to some temples, listen to the morning bell and the twilight drum, and bathe in a little of the luster of the gods.
Many years ago, at Gaomin Monastery, in front of the Tibetan Scripture Building, I met the great monk Delin, who was old at that time, and a yellow-clad monk pushed him out of a wheelchair for a walk. A group of us gathered around him and he was cold, and he was kind and kind-eyed, and his appearance was very good. He tells us about doing good, retribution, etc.
A white dove, stopping in front of his wheelchair, loving mankind, loving sentient beings, with a white dove as a messenger, as a witness, is enough.
In her later years, my mother believed in Buddhism, and in the corner of the second floor of her home, she transformed it into a small Buddhist hall, and she meditated and prayed to the Buddha every day. Chinese New Year's Eve night, she waited all night, at midnight, the sound of firecrackers outside, she was in the faint candlelight, sparse under the starlight, her eyes glowing with pious tears, prostrating her head and bowing. Tiny candlelight projects her great love into the heavens, the earth, and my heart.
On the first day of the Chinese New Year, my mother led me to my grandmother's grave to worship. After lighting three sticks of incense, the mother knelt down and prostrated her head, asking grandma, "Mom, is your waist better?" "If you have no money to spend, if you don't have money, you can dream of us." ......
My family and my grandmother's house are separated by a village, and it takes half an hour to walk. Grandma wrapped her little feet and walked not far, so when she was alive, it was difficult to get to live in my house. Even if I occasionally come to my house, I live for two or three years and am anxious to leave, and my mother will stay.
I remember that at that time, my mother kept my grandmother, sometimes hiding my grandmother's clothes; sometimes pulling her face and being angry and not talking to my grandmother; sometimes when I persuaded my grandmother to stay, I would cry out in grievance: I was also born by you, and I refused to leave you for a few more days...
Grandma has been gone for 20 years, and the Buddhist family has a saying: if the deceased relatives have a 100-year life, they will pass away, and there is no need to pay tribute to another reincarnation. Mother stood in front of the grave, silently thinking in the wind of care: Mom, this time, I will not leave you. If you are to pass away, you must pass away. If you can't meet, you won't meet!
