Temple
Temple
The temple gates were shorter
than I remembered. A deity’s
mouth frozen in time, even as
everything else grew.
Standing at the front of the courtyard,
I stretched out my hands and cupped
the image of the temple
from across a distance. Too easy.
Wooden boards across its entrances
used to tower over my waist.
Yesterday, my knees stared down their
wooden foreheads, scaling them effortlessly.
I have stopped wondering about
sky-high ceilings. Upon the principles
of construction, these massive pillars
have ceased to inspire fear.
Our generation, stretched taller by
the magnetic sky of genetics, are
still unschooled in divine hierarchy.
In this Taoist temple of my hometown,
I know not why we pray to the gods,
not the purpose of each deity.
As a boy, I memorised the incense
circuit. Now, I rely on the map denoting
the correct order, adhering religiously
to arrows like a careful tourist.
Height is a disadvantage too.
Closer to the origin of smoke,
my eyes water more, as if punished
for the sin of my adulthood.
No longer a boy ignorant of vice,
I have smoked, drank, sexed, cheated,
stolen, lied, and despaired. Perhaps
tears are evidence of a conscience.
I don’t have to crane my neck
when offering incense now.
To compensate, I kneel. To be
a boy again, to remember I was once small
and knew nothing but hope.
---
Royston Tan's 881 featured a temple, where the getai goddess resided in. The temple of my Henghwa clan, 九鲤洞 (Kiu Lee Tong or, Sen Lor Long), which I've frequented since young. For Seventh Month and Daddy's birthday, we went back to pay our respects, to burn some offerings. 九鲤洞 triggered memories. I remember the boisterous temple dinners, where items which had been blessed were auctioned off for exorbitant prices. Each year my father would bid thousands of dollars for a pair of red lanterns, which were to bring harmony and prosperity to the family. I remember tagging along with my grandfather, offering incense to gods whose names I didn't know, overseeing domains I wasn't aware of. I was a good kid back then, I'd follow attentively and quietly behind, kneeling at each god and speak to each god in like, formal Mandarin. It'd go something like this, "Dear revered God/Deity, I am 黄德福 (Huang DeFu), here to pay my humble respects. Please grant my family with peace and prosperity, watch over my grandparents' health, bless my parents' marriage, and finally, if you deign to, bestow a sliver of exam luck for myself. Many thanks and gratitude to your kindness."
This would be repeated at each station, about 15 in total. Usually halfway through I'd feel really stupid, and start saying, "Whatever I told the last god, I'm sure you all are friends." Respectfully, of course.
For temple dinners, us kids would run around the compound, playing stupid games like tag, and taking turns at the Gameboy. We'd grab a bite at every course (the tables used to cost 500-800 if I remember correctly), then run off until the next course, hoping to time it perfectly so our parents don't get angry.
There were also the tiao dang kee ceremonies (where temple elders invoke, and are possessed by the deities, when inviting them back to the temple proper), the Chinese operas, the huge bonfires of offerings. In my childhood years I used to reconcile the existence of different gods in our multi-religions by imagining them living in the same dimension of Heaven, cohabitating, and convening regularly for council meetings. Having been dragged to churches by ostentatious friends over the years, I daresay an agnostic like me would never trade the temple memories for anything remotely Christian. It's a lot more straightforward. No bargains, just pleas and offerings. How do I put this across properly? I guess Taoist temples are more Romantic in their approach, the stuff myths and legends are made of. The fear, the appeasement, these are what gods should be about, if I were to finally choose a religion. I also cannot agree with the active recruitment of certain churches, as if drafting soldiers.
After a Google dragnet, the only picture I could muster out of this omnipotent Internet:
---
The temple gates were shorter
than I remembered. A deity’s
mouth frozen in time, even as
everything else grew.
Standing at the front of the courtyard,
I stretched out my hands and cupped
the image of the temple
from across a distance. Too easy.
Wooden boards across its entrances
used to tower over my waist.
Yesterday, my knees stared down their
wooden foreheads, scaling them effortlessly.
I have stopped wondering about
sky-high ceilings. Upon the principles
of construction, these massive pillars
have ceased to inspire fear.
Our generation, stretched taller by
the magnetic sky of genetics, are
still unschooled in divine hierarchy.
In this Taoist temple of my hometown,
I know not why we pray to the gods,
not the purpose of each deity.
As a boy, I memorised the incense
circuit. Now, I rely on the map denoting
the correct order, adhering religiously
to arrows like a careful tourist.
Height is a disadvantage too.
Closer to the origin of smoke,
my eyes water more, as if punished
for the sin of my adulthood.
No longer a boy ignorant of vice,
I have smoked, drank, sexed, cheated,
stolen, lied, and despaired. Perhaps
tears are evidence of a conscience.
I don’t have to crane my neck
when offering incense now.
To compensate, I kneel. To be
a boy again, to remember I was once small
and knew nothing but hope.
---
Royston Tan's 881 featured a temple, where the getai goddess resided in. The temple of my Henghwa clan, 九鲤洞 (Kiu Lee Tong or, Sen Lor Long), which I've frequented since young. For Seventh Month and Daddy's birthday, we went back to pay our respects, to burn some offerings. 九鲤洞 triggered memories. I remember the boisterous temple dinners, where items which had been blessed were auctioned off for exorbitant prices. Each year my father would bid thousands of dollars for a pair of red lanterns, which were to bring harmony and prosperity to the family. I remember tagging along with my grandfather, offering incense to gods whose names I didn't know, overseeing domains I wasn't aware of. I was a good kid back then, I'd follow attentively and quietly behind, kneeling at each god and speak to each god in like, formal Mandarin. It'd go something like this, "Dear revered God/Deity, I am 黄德福 (Huang DeFu), here to pay my humble respects. Please grant my family with peace and prosperity, watch over my grandparents' health, bless my parents' marriage, and finally, if you deign to, bestow a sliver of exam luck for myself. Many thanks and gratitude to your kindness."
This would be repeated at each station, about 15 in total. Usually halfway through I'd feel really stupid, and start saying, "Whatever I told the last god, I'm sure you all are friends." Respectfully, of course.
For temple dinners, us kids would run around the compound, playing stupid games like tag, and taking turns at the Gameboy. We'd grab a bite at every course (the tables used to cost 500-800 if I remember correctly), then run off until the next course, hoping to time it perfectly so our parents don't get angry.
There were also the tiao dang kee ceremonies (where temple elders invoke, and are possessed by the deities, when inviting them back to the temple proper), the Chinese operas, the huge bonfires of offerings. In my childhood years I used to reconcile the existence of different gods in our multi-religions by imagining them living in the same dimension of Heaven, cohabitating, and convening regularly for council meetings. Having been dragged to churches by ostentatious friends over the years, I daresay an agnostic like me would never trade the temple memories for anything remotely Christian. It's a lot more straightforward. No bargains, just pleas and offerings. How do I put this across properly? I guess Taoist temples are more Romantic in their approach, the stuff myths and legends are made of. The fear, the appeasement, these are what gods should be about, if I were to finally choose a religion. I also cannot agree with the active recruitment of certain churches, as if drafting soldiers.
After a Google dragnet, the only picture I could muster out of this omnipotent Internet:
---