Wanderers to a Buddhist Temple

The naked monk, holding nothing but a plastic bucket, stepped into the small pool at the foot of the little waterfall. Brad could hear him gasp as the shock of the icy water went through his body. Following the path of the flashlight held by another monk, he waded in and sat down, the water up to chest level. Then he began chanting the Heart Sutra. “Kan ji zai bo sa gyo- jin han-nya ha ra mi ta ji…”

As he chanted, he pulled the bucket through the freezing water and splashed it onto his face and chest, again and again. his voice tremulous, shouting as if to fight off the cold. The moment the chant was over, he rose and followed the beam of the flashlight back across the rocks and out onto the snow covered ground, to towel off and dress. The second monk had prepared, and repeated the ritual. Brad was instructed to get ready, and he removed his robe and peeled off the underclothes, hanging them onto posts a few meters from the water.

The old inner drive, the force that pushed him to succeed at all costs, swelled within. I am going to show these monks how to do it. It was his turn now. He followed the flashlight into the water. It was 3 am on this moonless night. The climb 400 yards down the mountain while holding a flashlight in his teeth had been harrowing, but it had warmed him up. But when he stepped into the water, all of his body heat was sucked out of him. He gritted his teeth.  I will show them. He marched into the middle of the pool and lowered himself, feeling the water rise to his chest . I can’t breathe, ohhh! He fought back panic, then a sharp gasp came as his lungs took air, and he began the chant they had taught him. But instead of splashing the water frantically like the monks had done, he filled the bucket and slowly, deliberately, poured it over his head and shoulders, again and again. I am in control. He was showing them he could do it better. They would tell the Master, and everybody would cheer him and recognize his discipline and spiritual achievement.  The chant came with gasps and coughs but he finished it. Then he sat still for another minute, trying to breathe. I am in control, I can do it better.

When he stood up, he couldn’t feel his legs. He watched them move step by step to the edge of the pond. He willed them to move. Then he used his hands to lift each leg over the wall of the pool, and onto the snowy rocks, trying not to fall. More steps to the clothes, a stumble, recovery, then grabbing the post to start getting dressed. The monks were mumbling, one was speaking broken English telling him to dry off before he got dressed. Getting the robe and the struggling with socks and shoes. Forgetting the underwear. Climbing back up the path gasping, shivering, with no feeling in the legs. One monk leading him, the other following and pushing him when needed. Shivering, gasping, his breath making puffs of steam in the frigid night that belied the drop in his body temperature.

As they crested the hill and made the Temple grounds, he started dry heaving. He would have vomited but he hadn’t eaten in 12 hours. They assisted him into the meeting hall, where a single bulb was hanging near an old wood-burning furnace, and sat him on some pillows. Somebody wrapped him in blankets. Shivering uncontrollably, his core temperature was dangerously low. I am hypothermic, where is the heat? He couldn’t feel the heat coming from the stove. Then the headaches started. They came from the base of his skull, as if someone was driving a railroad spike into his brainstem. The pounding radiated around the sides of his head and into his eyes and forehead. It felt as though his head was exploding with each throb. He twisted and turned this way and that, desperate to find a position that gave some relief.

The monks were unaffected by the mizu gyo, which they had been doing every night for over a year. One brought him a cup of hot tea and the other was saying”Aku, aku! and putting his clasped hands on top of Brad’s head.  It was their belief that the spiritual practices released bad energy, and by releasing aku again and again, the body would eventually be purified and the spirit would be Enlightened. Brad had lots of bad energy that needed to be released, Elly would explain later.

The headaches got a little better hours later, and that night he could finally sleep. “I can’t do this again,” he complained to Elly. “It was the same feeling I had when I almost broke my neck in college gymnastics.”

“The Master has many gyos to do. He thought you would like this one. I will ask him what’s next.” Then she did mizu gyo with a lady monk at 9 pm that evening, and came back refreshed. He resolved to show them on the next one, which they called aruki gyo.