I have to travel in Tibet when the burial was witnessed many times, and each time the experience will make me fully appreciate the impermanence of life and helplessness, but my most memorable Qinghai Province Song and Dance Ensemble is the funeral of a female dancer . a year, and I know a fellow to the grid (Tibetan reincarnation of persons), where to find laws, just to catch up to you to know a Tibetan sky burial site to the cell to be salvation for the dead. Early next morning, then known cell car to come, we do not have other things to go together. We take the farm is a tricycle driver's seat of a cab only, knowledge grid, and we sat in the car without any shelter. Time when the winter, snow covered prairie silhouetted against the blue sky, picturesque, very beautiful, but that the biting wind and the impermanence of life and death, so I really did not enjoy the view of the good mood.
been a long time, I found the speed slowed down, looked up and saw the front is not too high a mountain, from the foot to the summit, around innumerable colored prayer flags flying. The center of the streamer bundle, there is a small empty space, stands a large white tower, the sun's shining particularly conspicuous. When we came to the foot of a group of Tibetans have been waiting there. Some of them in the bar tent, and some pot to cook, there are some people hanging prayer flags for the dead on the hillside over recommended.
We do not control box know to go straight to the tent chanting went. I do not have things to do, just to help a young Tibetan conversation. The original 23-year-old victim was a young woman, before his death in Qinghai Province Song and Dance Ensemble is a dancer, endowed with both, is a famous after treatment, but finally a certain death.
said, the Tibetan people stood up, pointing to a Mi Zhou dressed man who said: years old, tall and robust, his face covered with wrinkles unique Tibetan flashing red light, red cloth on the head with the hair like a basin, look a little funny. Some of his lame leg, a swaying towards us came. He advanced the knowledge of the tent frame, after a while children, out of the tent, and a few greeting the families of the deceased to the great white tower shake the past.
I always thought the celestial burial original top of the hill, then he noticed the white tower Here is the celestial burial. The so-called celestial burial, in fact, a soil table in the White Tower following a cabin door. The side door, stood a wood piles, wood piles tied with a rope covered in bloodstained dirt. Arrayed in front of the stage house a strip of soil large stone, a large stone next to a piece of wood cutting boards high, casually placed on a chopping board and a knife and hatchets, or something. Below the cutting board has a large cloth, a clear outline of people 一看便知道, which is a body.
feel Pakistan sat on the floor carry out the bell pestle, tambourine and bone number, recite from the His voice was rough and loud, a great distance. Listening to his chanting, I gaze into the distant mountains, a distant, quiet heart. I do not know how long, melodious sound of chanting stopped. I turned around and looked at the sleep bar, he was changing clothes, beautiful red dress was gone, replaced by a similar set of Han is the first line of butcher: aprons, gloves and arm guards, also has been wearing a large yellow masks, head of the I do not know when, on the hillside behind the house has gathered hundreds of vultures, they are public funds seems to be trained to eat and drink, like, proud of his success stood there, waiting for a free meal coming.
feel swinging toward Palestinian bodies, cut open with a knife out of plastic and cloth, and homeopathy to mention, the body on the slate. He then skillfully tied the dead rope, casually thrown aside, the body will lie face down on the stone on the straight, head to my side. Originally, when Tibetans are generally required in the burial of the deceased on the face of Nabu Meng, but this time is not the case, then, a beautiful, beautiful, quiet face has clearly presented in front of me. Although the pain of torture Yurong her weight loss, but it can not cover her natural beauty of the style and charm, her long hair as Chunliu like hanging a pair of eyes Weibi, without any expression. Thin eyebrows, delicate nose, purple lips, chin Qiaomei, Shen and fall asleep just like Sleeping Beauty, quiet and charming. Just the white skin, glowing blue, the luster has been lost their lives, people secretly feel the silence of death and desolation. Prior to that, she was young, style of thousands, hundred thousands of Jiao Mei, whirling dance, described as A small woman who had so much desire is cherished dreams, those who toss and turn so many jealous crazy for love, the pursuit of those who have vowed to make the number even Haikushilan, but also those who have so much love is the dream until the end of your hand. And how many Americans own and had better vision, the romantic fantasy? Red raw silk tents, son of sentimental; loess ridge, the Qing He born unlucky? All in all, and now can do? Customs million, but only shake their dreams; worldly things, nothing more than fleeting dream! Once impermanence to, we know the dreams of people; worth of belt do not, the only industry player! People ah, he knows not, the most cruel than the impermanence, the most terrifying than the impermanence, the most volatile than equity, the most insipid than the impermanence ... ...
may have undergone too many scenes of death, my feelings have almost numb. Pakistan did not hesitate to Jiuqi body of a woman feel the head, bound to the stake to the rope in her slender neck and the white around a few laps, and then recklessly thrown into slate. At that moment, my heart gave a tight, Before I withdrew his hand, the beauty of the first stone has plummeted heavily, and the sound seems very boring. I held her breath, fearing that she would wake up in pain, will open their eyes and asked us. But in fact, her head is mechanically a bit on the shells no longer move. Silly me, her soul has entered in the shade of the illusion that her body has been attributed to four, a body which will be pain and not pain the difference? If she is caught in the shade of the soul to see this scene, I do not know how she will make impressions.
soon, it feels small blister solutions, such as cattle Pakistani general skilled to work. Shortly afterwards the limbs and trunk woman whose body had been disposed of, once a slim, sexy plump carcass, instant becomes a messy pile of flesh and blood viscosity. Pakistan felt the rope off his neck she will only put the head attached to a spine on the chopping block, the knife from her forehead, gently draw the skin below the exposed muscle and prominent eyes, no eyelids, so that one thrilling, no longer any sense of beauty. In fact, in every beautiful face and sexy body, the all with this same bunch of flesh, and even slaughter of pigs and dogs and sheep is not much different. Those who are indulging in matters of love and stay drunk on wine and women people can realize this truth?
feel Pakistan picked up the body of a woman's head smashed hatchets, or something, and casually thrown into the slate. Those who are already hungry, eager vultures, the same as the cosine of the arrow diving down from the hill, rushed to scramble and tear, such as the clean sweep. Suddenly, almost, have nothing on the slate, in addition to strands of messy hair and mottled with blood. I lament, before the impermanence of human life and body is so fragile, so tiny, when in its demise, and even a little bit of moaning can be heard a slight, quiet, this is a cruel fact and helpless sad ah!
Pakistan sitting on the ground to recover from sleep, see the vultures flying over the top of the hill freeload, he stood up in an orderly manner to pack their own things, off the butcher's outfit, worn from his re- beautiful clothing. This soul-stirring scene, for him to work every day is like, is a very ordinary thing.
I know that sense of loss went into the tent frame, quietly sat down beside him. The cell has finished the know, is tea break. Tent, a Tibetan girl from the boiling pot, fetched a bowl of tea to me. When I looked at the girl, found out she looked like a dead face, very handsome, and perhaps had a younger sister? I have a feeling or a vision, it seems that the lives of female dancers in her resurrection, though I know it is not possible. When life there, people was so vivid, if impermanent come to become like stone cold silence. This fresh and cold, I also really feel. With the warmth of tea brought to me, but I could not help but hit a cold war.
things have passed since a long time, but the feeling or the illusion that it is always there in my eyes. There is no world beyond the love of life and death? There is no eternal truth? If so, that may have been in love with her, he saw her at the time of the cold body, but also to embrace passionately kiss it? A real body are gently give way and a glimpse of impermanence, we can expect that the volatile heart forever? Feelings between men and women, just as autumn clouds on the prairie, spectacular came to the time without a trace, mean that even a trace and the shadow will not stay.
world people often desire and pursuit of eternal love, eager to work with their loved ones forever, but get good luck, life is short, things change, the kind of touching love, but is our wishful thinking to catch the sun like the braggadocio, though hard to trace, but in the end the pain in addition to numerous outside, nothing will be. Therefore, people should seize the time to practice alive, as soon as possible the cycle of life and death!
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