A Once In A Lifetime Experience at the Shaolin Temple and this happens…
I’m standing in awe of the sacred Shaolin Temple in the heart of Zhengzhou, China,—rich in Buddhism history and Kung-Fu martial arts tradition. An unforgettable chapter of my recent visit is marked by a special invitation to join the 4 am morning meditations with the Shaolin Temple Monks. It is truly an honor.
Make it stand out
In the entrance of the Shaolin Temple, framed by the fall, yellow leaves of the 1500 yr-old gingko-biloba tree.
It is pitch dark in the early hours of the morning, only by a few flickering candlelight and the lingering aroma of incense, create an ambiance with ancient mystery. The air is rich with history, making the temple's past stories almost touchable.
My family and other families in our group are in a single file line. We snake our way in the meditation hall as quietly as possible. This is a no-speaking zone, only sign language. A warrior monk directs us and uses hand motions to let us know to stay or to keep walking to form a new row. I fall directly behind Grant, my 11 year-old son, standing in the front row.
The meditation starts off with powerful chants echoing through the sacred space, accompanied by the rhythmic beat of unique instruments—a harmonious blend that feels like we are floating across time. It's an experience of deep spiritual connection.
About 15 minutes into the ceremony, I notice Grant, with a slight bounce in his stance. He is standing in the glow of the central altar light, he begins swaying side to side. Grant is my rambunctious one and will pretty much do what the moment brings. If he feels the music he will either sing or groove with the rhythm without a care of what others may think. While I love this about his personality, this moment was not the best time for his spontaneous authentic expressions.
“Is he really dancing to the temple beat right now?”
I tug at his jacket from the back as gently and discreetly. At the third tug, his head falls back. He’s not dancing, he’s sleeping!
Suppressing my surprise, I try to figure out how to keep him standing without causing any commotion during the sacred ritual. I had no time or words for a lecture on temple etiquette, I find myself in a serious situation—playing the role of a human pillar, for my son to lean on for the next hour.
As the chants echo around us, I inadvertently embrace a unique form of meditation—balancing the serene ritual with the challenge of keeping Grant from toppling over.
I can’t blame him, it was early and I do recall myself falling asleep during a yoga class in Costa Rica. I guess we just know how to let go into relaxation. I mean really let go. Even with the unexpected zoning out, the power of the chants prevails. I was able to get myself in a meditative state. This is a memory that I will truly remember. And so, in the sacred halls of the Shaolin temple, a mix of ancient traditions, parental antics, and surrendering to meditation are in harmony.
