Otherwise I was actually hesitant to write this article.
They still carry a pen.
We Tianzang Tai to go higher when the mountains, Sam said, you really great daring.
Sam meant was that he was still taking pictures under the hillside, I actually am a person who Tianzang Tai axes, knives, daggers, as well as those passing away of the soul remains and clothing in the walk through.
I am actually not very daring, I opened the night for this article first, wait until the morning and then write it down.
Tian Zangtai when I stood on the decision did not expect such a night, a sudden some of those photographed for fear of seeing their own pictures.
This gives me a little cry.
Some Qinglie that morning, the sun is very warm. Light, moisture in the forest on the opposite hillside some hazy. Black and red top of the tent houses scattered in the green cove, the occasional streaks of smoke wafting, leisurely to stay in Langmusi the mid-air. Zhu stick with the humpbacked old rushed to the hill on the drive, but also while shaking the hands of some elderly people have been round turn around the pagoda.
In addition to birds, everything is quiet and peaceful.
Sam kept his camera and aiming, I was a person slowly approaching the hillside at the end of which a large streamer.
I do not know that is Tianzang Tai.
Up lying on the floor of the two pale hands suddenly jumped into my eyes.
1 seconds before I could react, it was a pair of white plastic gloves.
I breath and continue to go look inside.
Clothing, bloody daggers, axes, knives, skull, huge eagle feathers, broken bones, mixed with tsampa suck the Shijiu.
When I walked in which was not afraid. Or, I have felt strange in the air, but not fear.
Still in the road, and her husband when the phone, he said, how can you not afraid? How may not be afraid of?
I suddenly understand his doubts. The original text, and not have a full description of the faithful.
Are some people afraid of words, not in my Tianzang Tai see reality.
That night I said to myself, okay, this is just a funeral, the funeral of our difference is that methods may vary. Then I will consider their own mental endurance.
I have to say, actually, my little bolder. Years ago, I used to be Eagle Shooting Rime frightened look toward the wind curled around her mother overnight and even now I only dare horror movies during the day.
But I decided to go attend the funeral the next morning.
I almost used the "look" to be used. Always thought he was very much respect the customs of the Tibetan people and Tibetan people. However, that night I have said many times: I have tomorrow morning to go to "see" celestial burial. Aware that "see" itself with the adventures of color, so I am somewhat uncomfortable.
Xiahe one afternoon, I chat with friends on MSN, there is one that the burial so sacred, you see is not desecrated the funeral? I argue that it is only a different form of the funeral, I did not go with the psychological adventures, how can the desecration of that? Moreover, the presence of monks and the people who attend the funeral was very friendly to me.
In fact, a friend and was not mistaken.
I may not have desecrated the funeral can be at least lack of respect for the dead. The purpose of burial is to make the body completely disappear in this world, so the soul can be clean to go. But I'm to stay in the dead of the images of my camera, and also made clear to the friends, and even once had also would like to send on the web.
I intended to write an article on the burial of the travels, I am surprised to read, read, turned into a review of his own call to arms.
The only thing is that my heart a little better, two stand Tianzang Tai, my mind had the same idea:
One day, if my soul can soar with the eagles in the sky, but also quite good.
I even stood there, the time between the two stone mortars, but also thinking about the long shadow of their own drag on it, take a picture, to a symbolic burial. I soon give up the idea of it, because I immediately realized that I do not belong to this world.
The next morning, air, Qinglie, the sun seems to be more. No pedestrians. Sam and I rush toward Tianzang Tai. Passing Langmusi, and guessed at. A tractor parked in front of the monastery. Heard that we did not take long mountain, the temple monks on the practice of pouring a lot of things. That tractor is the lira funeral to be held on that day 84-year-old.
Write here, I began to cautiously fingers touch the keyboard, I am afraid alerted the soul of those who have already ascended to heaven.
Tian Zangtai approaching me and Sam when the tractor from the Dodo to open up the slope. We live in a foot, looking back. Doo-ri after the tractor a few people standing, one of which began going to Heaven and Chosho, he has pace to soon as soon as to Xiao, then the sound reverberating in the sky for long years, the atmosphere shrouded in mystery.
Ying, Zhang huge wings of the eagle, from the valley, from the mountain ridges, from the horizon, from all directions, a 1, from the skies over our heads where passing and landed next to the slopes in the streamer.
Some people began to simmer mulberry, mulberry smoke curl to float around in the air, the two monks chanting prayers for the dead to sit down.
Elderly people was carried out, Tunxia-naked clothes, tied the hands and feet, like the baby in the mother's body inside position.
Tian Zangshi untied the rope, knives began to maneuver in the skin.
Lara Big Bird忽忽violently with its wings to fly over.
Were among a few minutes disappeared. , Leaving only a small piece of burnt skull to the monks chanting prayers in the temple. To come and go without really worried about naked. I watched the neck bleeding eagle 1:00 Some daze.
I still remember many years ago to participate in too grandmother's funeral, I normally do not like her always beating with a stick. Granny may be just too much that day quietly coffin lying in the central room, there is a moment I suddenly realized that the future will forever be too Grandma will never be repeated beatings with a stick, and I was sad to cry.
But this funeral without tears. Tian Zangshi began hand-washing, and even mischievous Baijiu asked that we do not drink, that wine is that they used to wash their hands disinfection. Hand Tianzang Shi washed out pipe in the ground knock a bit, throw in some tobacco to be lit and severely beaten by one. Not far away, streamer where the breeze is still floating around, the sky is also blue, such as washing, mountains, forests, grasslands have remained the same.
Life came and went, and that no traces remain.
Xiahe before leaving that evening, bitter drink with a young lama said that burial is not only to make the soul ascend to heaven, but also the body of the deceased his charity to other sentient beings, the last time to do charity.
There should be a solemn and beautiful moment.
That afternoon, I sat in Sam Nagel at the end of the steps outside the temple hall. Lama was sitting on the ground in a circle chanting scriptures, treble bass seamless integration of, people suspected Teana. Wind-off by the book paper fluttering in the sun, the glitter. We sat for a moment before slowly to the opposite hill walking the forests, forests are being over there a few leisurely circling hawk.
Note: Some people say that is to write-off brain. The process of writing this article, I realized that a lot of their own neglected things.
Decided to process photos from this dusty burial is no longer seen by others, including himself.
Author: wenwen0938
