Bujinlin is composed of a large piece of Phoebe bournei. On the way from Guobao Temple to Khufu Temple, along Tiger Creek, we crossed a covered bridge across Tiger Creek, surrounded by towering trees, which are very rare and arranged in Khufu Temple, which is very spectacular.
Is the meaning of bujin related to Buddhism? It is said that Bujinlin in Emei Mountain was planted by monks in the Qing Dynasty in silence according to Mahayana Sutra, with a total of more than 65,438+009,000 trees. In the western suburbs of Lhasa, Tibet, there is also the famous Norbulingka. At first, this was the Summer Palace of the Seventh Lama, full of exotic flowers and plants. In China's classic The Journey to the West, there is such a description:
It is said that the Tang Priest and his disciples went to Sla Wasti and passed a temple, which was neither too big nor too small, but it was also a glazed tile. Half new and half old, but it is also a red wall with eight characters. Vaguely see pines, I don't know thousands of years ago. Listen to the strings of flowing water, not the mountains opened by that dynasty. On the mountain gate, there is a big book called Bujin Temple.
When the Tang Priest saw Bujin Temple, he thought for a moment and said, "Bujin, Bujin, isn't this the boundary of Pishamen Heaven?" Hearing this, the second brother Pig Bajie said, "Master, what a surprise! I have been with Master for several years, and I have never seen the way before. Today I know the way. "
The Tang Priest replied, "No, I often read the scriptures and said that the Buddha only planted trees for the Acropolis Garden. This garden is said to be bought for lonely old people to invite the prince and the Buddha to give lectures. The prince said,' I'm not selling this garden. If he wants to buy mine, unless arachis duranensis. "It is said that lonely old people, only when gold is used as bricks and garden covers, can you buy the Prince Garden of Gion and ask the Buddha's statement. I wonder if this Bujin Temple is the story? "
Bukinlin, there is no reason not to be close.
I know a friend who is engaged in gardening. Many landscape works of Mount Emei are his works. The first time I met him, the place was near Huxi under the Bujin forest. I followed the position he provided, and I felt like I was in a green ocean all the way. Along the way, Huxi was targeted by the owner of the open-air teahouse, and the parking spaces on the roadside were all charged for watching cars. By the gurgling stream, there are simple tables and chairs, one for each person, and the charge is free. After sitting down, I looked around, but I saw the crowds surging and the world of mortals buzzing in the heat wave transpiration.
In summer and during the day, Bujin Forest has become a laity world where land is designated as a prison and mountains are king.
Of course, this is not only a unique phenomenon of Mount Emei Zen Forest. All famous mountains and rivers and almost all Buddhist holy places are wrapped in a disorderly market economy, returning to the world of mortals from the mentality of being born, and all vicissitudes are counted between reincarnation. Being born into the WTO is not just a philosophical issue!
A friend of Emei introduced me to the treatment of anterior lumbar disc herniation with short needle, and the effect was remarkable after use. It's early summer, and Emei City presents a different kind of scenery at night. It's a whim, why not take advantage of the night to see the Bujinlin under Emei Mountain.
Drive ahead, the lights are dim. From Guobao Temple to Khufu Temple, the wind stopped raining, there was no starlight in the sky and there were no tourists on the road. The owner of the tea stall and the parking toll collector have disappeared. By the bridge of Huxi, under Bujinlin, but I can smell the running water, the wind blowing and the leaves rustling. This is what the Zen realm should look like. I let my friends stay in the car, and I want to read Bu Jinlin's classics alone.
Without street lamps, I walked through the empty stall corridor and followed the sound of the stream. Walking through a forest of steles, Tiger Bath Bridge lies quietly by the stream. There is a pair of couplets on the bridge, and a legend is written here, which is dull in semantics and omits important significance. Bujinlin under Tiger Bridge is the intersection leading to the pure land of bliss. Have you noticed that the tiger stream is fresh and pleasant, and fireflies are flying among the grass. In the past, ordinary elves were rare. The graceful Bu Jinlin, if he can really speak, will definitely read a passage for the vast world.
Walking past the stone archway that says "Don't go into the forest" is Mount Emei Khufu Temple, which is the Dojo for monks and nuns to practice. In my heart, there has always been a person hiding. Is she still in the temple? Is she okay?
It was in the 1980s, under the leadership of teachers, we finished our graduation thesis in Emei Mountain. Emei Mountain is a geological treasure house. About 800 million years ago, there was still a sea around Mount Emei. At this time, the Jinning Movement, which shocked southern China, took place. The fiery magma rose from the bottom of the sea and cooled into hard granite, which lifted Emei Mountain from the bottom of the sea and became her "King Kong seat" today. After a series of earth movements, 250 million years ago, Mount Emei rose for the third time, which was called Himalayan movement in history and made today's majestic landscape. Leaving a relatively complete rock structure, almost all geological colleges will bring students here to study.
In late autumn, the leaves of Mount Emei turn from yellow to red. Jinding line has been covered by the first snow, the temperature in the mountains alternates, and there is no figure ten steps away. Several classmates and I stayed in Jinding to watch the sunrise and the Buddha's light. After eleven o'clock, we can't see anything but clouds. Disappointed, I went down the mountain and walked to Taiziping. A group of people were resting on the side of the road, and a black shadow came from Jieyin Temple. I saw the man striding, and the elegant fog was cut open by his forward momentum. Until he came to us, he found a monk with a stick in his hand, a hat on his head, ice on his head, loose monk clothes, sandals and leggings.
Emei Mountain tourists have the habit of greeting when they meet on the road. Then ask where you come from, say a few words of gossip, and then tell people how far it is from the temple in front. The monks stood beside us, not panting and out of breath like climbers, but like Qianshan Mountain. The monk is very tall, comparable to several of our classmates, but his skin is tender and white with a blush, and his eyes under his eyelids are bright, like Guanyin in this world. I asked him where he came from, and I replied: Khufu Temple. We are surprised that there is a custom of climbing Mount Emei. If you ask tourists where they come from in the mountains, they will usually answer the temples they went out that day. Someone whispered that it belonged to Khufu Temple. Oh, my God! With the feet of ordinary people, it will take at least two days. Let's find a temple to rest for one night. We don't believe it. The bearer also said that he said goodbye to Master last night, started from Khufu Temple, walked all the way up to now, and stopped at the temple halfway. Say that finish, ignore our surprise, down the steps to the depths of the clouds.
Khufu Temple, fair skin and big eyes, we exclaimed at the same time, is a nun! Shout in the direction of the monks and nuns disappearing, master, what's your last name? Deep in the clouds, there is an echo of her, perhaps the mountain wind is cold, and we didn't hear it clearly.
Later, I went to Khufu Temple several times, and I thought, What happened to the monk and nun I met in Taiziping? Did you go to the temple outside the mountain after your debut? Or did you go to another country?
I am full of doubts about everything in the world. I know an acquaintance who is engaged in culture, and an acquaintance also knows a poet. In those days, he lived upstairs and downstairs, and played 270 plates at 20 cents each. At that time, poets often scrutinized a word until midnight. Did they use monks to push the moon down the door? Or a monk knocking at the door. Later, with cultural bricks in his hand, the poet knocked on door after door, became an official, took bribes and took concubines, which was magnificent. One day, I met a cultural man who used to live downstairs in the street and asked him what he had been doing all these years. The literati downstairs replied, as before, climb the grid and write some words. The poet upstairs looked disdainful. "What time is it, you are still dancing and writing!" Then I was a little sad and hated the regret that iron did not turn into steel.
Although the right path on earth has vicissitudes. Around us, even a few kilometers from Guobao Temple to Khufu Temple, we can't recognize the changes in the daytime over the years. Only at night, the night hides everything, probing into the candle shadow, connecting the past, matching the secret code, and writing down my whispers.