From: ksaycoci@nermal.santarosa.edu (Kongkeo Saycocie)
Newsgroups: soc.culture.laos
Subject: buddhist temple
Date: 14 Dec 1994 01:34:12 GMT
Organization: Santa Rosa Junior College, Santa Rosa, CA

	Tum, tum came a thunderring sound piercing the air as it woke me up.
I slowly put my yellow robe on and walked out to the main temple where 
the sound came from. It was still dark outside. A chilly wind rubbed my face
and my right bare shoulder. Hardly anything was moving besides me and 
those dangling leaves of the Boddhi trees near my abode. Everything seemed
to be quiet waiting for a dawn to creep in.
	At the temple, in front of the big Buddha statue, an elder monk 
lit a row of candles and incenses. Then he led all the monks to pray in 
praise of Buddha. Rhythmic sounds flowed to every inch of the temple. I 
hardly understood a word for they are in Pali - a language only Buddhit 
scholars can understand. Anyway, they were sweet to my ears. Sometimes my 
eyes became fixed on the flickering flames of the candles while my nose 
caught a pleasant scent of incenses...
	As a boy, I liked to come to the temple either with my parents or 
by myself to play soccer. Life in those early days was easy - maybe 
because I was just a boy and didn't know anything about the world, or 
maybe because my parents were wealthy enough that we could afford nearly 
anything. The temple was just a few blocks from my house so I could go 
there whenever I felt like playing soccer, even though my ball usually 
rolled down the river which ran beside the grounds of the temple. I 
didn't care; I had a lot of balls, and it was not hard to find someone to 
play with. All my neighborhood kids liked to play soccer anytime, 
anywhere - even in the street. We were told not to play at the temple for 
it might hit a monk. If that happened, our parents would feel guilty all 
their lives for not stopping their offspring from harming the sacred 
person. We children tried our best not to kick the ball whenever a monk 
was around. We were respectful of him too, for we knew our chance of 
playing at the temple again depended on him. So as long as anything awful 
didn't happen, we just fooled around there.

	People liked to come to the temple too, but for a variety of 
purposes. Some came because they wanted to get a lucky number in the 
coming lottery. They would bring milk, coffee even money to their 
preferred monk. They always said if they won big this time, they would 
build a new temple, or anything the monk would like to have. These people 
kept coming every day before the lottery day, even though few of them had 
ever won even a small amount of money. They seemed to live in their dream 
rather than in reality. Some came because the temple was such a quiet 
place (when we weren't around) that they could take a sound nap under the 
Boddhi tree. Some came because by talking to the monks, their worries and 
anxieties seemed to go away. In fact, these monks were simple folks; most 
of them were farmers'sons. They wanted to go to school, but couldn't 
afford it; so they became monks to get some education. In my country, 
Laos, besides school, the temple is the center of learning. By being a 
monk, one can learn to read, write and do arithmetic. That's good enough 
to help one become literate and to be a good citizen in society.
	When I became of age, I rarely went to the temple. School taught 
me everything that I needed. I knew science, math, philosophy, literature 
and politics. I thought I was sophisticated enough. Why should I learn 
from those semi-educated monks? Any scholars who learned from the monks 
must be crazy. I could say that to anyone except one person - my father. 
It might be better if I tell you a little bit about my father. He 
received a good education in France, but he wasn't like his fellow 
scholars who always looked down on their own people. He once said we were 
all wearing masks. Why should we act as if we were different from other 
people? My tongue itched to answer back: Aren't we different? 
Intellectually, some are smart; some are quite stupid. Economically, some 
are wealthy; some are wretched. But I couldn't say a word. His conviction 
never failed him.
	A couple of years ago, I had a chance to understand what he 
meant, but it was too late; he had already passed away. By responding to 
his last wish, I ordained to be a Buddhist monk. The temple was still the 
same old one, but time had left its mark on every piece of wood, on every 
stone, and even on the dust which covered the walls, the roof and the 
pathways. Strolling around in a yellow robe, I saw the tree that I had 
kicked the ball against in a different way. It was not just a thing - a 
tree, but a part of us. See, it had grown old, its leaves were falling. 
Soon, it would decay like my father
	We think we are special. We have the privilege to destroy 
anything that's in our way in the name of progress or just for our 
pleasure. We don't seem to know that while we destroy nature we gradually 
destroy ourselves. Before, many birds had built their nests in this tree; 
now only a few were left. You could hardly hear its singing at all. By 
the far end of the temple, the river was flowing as usual. Sometimes, its 
surface reflected the twinklight light of the sun. It was like a 
sparkling diamond floating on the top of a big transparent canvas. From 
the shore, I could recount my innumerable lost balls. They were gone like 
the current.
	We might say this is the same river we used to see. In fact, it's 
not. What we see is just an illusion of the way we want the world to be. 
Our mind is like a river; when it is undisturbed, we can see its bottom. 
That's the essence of life - to see the world as it is, not with its 
cover on. We should be like a fish which just swims, feeds itself and 
lives its life. It doesn't want nice clothes to put on, it doesn't store 
its prey waiting for other needy fish to come along and be its slave. It 
doesn't have ethics, morality; it doesn't learn philosophy, psychology; 
and it doesn't need technology. But it does live a happy life, and in 
harmony with nature as well.
	I think we are conditioned by the tradition, the way of thinking 
that we take everything for granted. This gradually compounds until at 
last we hardly know who we are, and why we live the way we do. We should 
not just indulge ourselves. There are many things to learn. Socrates said 
"The unexamined life is not worth living." I got the impression that if 
we just take some time off to see ourselves, we might see something 
deeper - something that completely changes our point of view and our mode 
of life as well.
	I was at the temple for a month living a simple life. My two 
meals a day, one in the early morning and the other at noon, consisted 
mostly of cereal and vegetables. They had no taste, but they kept me 
alive. That's good enough. We should not live to be a slave of taste, 
smell, sound, sight and touch, but to gain wisdom and to know ourselves 
(monks don't have an evening meal because Buddha wants them to utilize 
least food, to have more time to study and to know how people feel when 
they have nothing to eat). Being a monk helped me to notice people from 
all walks of life deep down to the core, especially during the Buddhist 
festivals. They came in groups, dressing up from head to toe. They were 
government officials, businessmen, officers, teachers, farmers and 
workers. Each one was distinctive by the way he acted, talked, walked, 
stood and even smiled. By an instant rush of mind, we conclude that they 
they are all different. The government official liked to speak with a 
commanding voice while his eyes lookes straight into the eyes of his 
listerners (farmers and workers), forcing them to realize that they were 
inferior. They would keep their arms folded, their legs closed tight and 
their heads bowed down most of the time. Eventually, the government 
official consciously or unconsciously thinks he is the mask he wears. 
Little does he realize that his mask is just a way of deceiving himself. 
One day, he might think he won't have to die at all.
	At another side of the temple, my eyes rested pensively on the 
endless gray graveyards. Their owners were once like us. Relentlessly, 
they went after their ambitions, their creed and their greed. If they 
were still alive, I wonder what they would think of their past actions. 
Would they live the way they were? Or would they have a different life? 
My father said that he was happy, he didn't live a greedy life. He is 
like the sun that is setting; before the dark approaches, we can see how 
beautiful the twilight is.
	The flames of the candles still mixed with smoke of the incenses. 
At the horizon, the sun just began to emerge. Birds were singing a 
melodious song along with the pleasant breeze. Sometimes, leaves were 
falling down. Tum, tum the drums were ringing again reminding me of 
Buddha's words:
			Cease to do evil,
			learn to do good
			and purify your own mind
as I stood up and went back to where I came from...

					Kongkeo Saycocie
					Lycee de Vientiane, class of 79
					UC Berkeley, class of 93