I blurted out: I just have a look, I only believe myself and believe my eyes!

It is said that in front of this ancient temple, which was built in the Southern Song Dynasty and has been more than 900 years ago, there is a simple and lush sycamore tree, so it is euphemistically called: Wutong Temple.

It’s a pity that I didn’t see or find the legendary tall and powerful ancient tree.

It is very similar to the Buddhist temples you have seen elsewhere or in movies and TV shows. Its architectural model and worshipers can be imagined by closing your eyes. They are exactly the same, but the construction age and historical reputation are different.

I don’t believe in Buddhism, but I’m not particularly against it. I always feel that Buddhist language is a bit mysterious, a bit unpredictable, and difficult to understand. For example, "color is emptiness, emptiness is color." It's hard to explain. It's like being in a sparse mist. After thinking about it, I feel more or less like looking at the moon in flowers and water in the mist.

But for the ancient temples where monks practice, I still have to enter every time, and I still have a sense of awe. Or there is a lucky mentality: burning incense is better than not burning it, right? It's better to hold on to something temporarily than not to hold it at all, right? The worst reward can be an eye-opener. Therefore, it is common to go to holy places to worship Buddha.

It is the time of worship.

Seven or eight faithful men and women knelt on the yellow embroidered ball with great respect and solemnity.

There are four eminent monks in the front row. Their golden robes are bright and bright. The monks clasped their hands together, closed their eyes slightly, and muttered words in their mouths. Their babbling tones were melodious and pleasant to the ear.

There is an old monk sitting upright on the right side, making the sound of wooden fish, and the lingering sound is lingering.

The hall was filled with fragrant mist, and all the pilgrims knelt down and bowed three times in the same manner very cautiously and reverently, as if they were repenting and wishing for a better fate in the next life.

It was the hot summer season, and the south of the Yangtze River had entered the hot weather of drought and after the plum rain. After a while, the monks and the pilgrims were sweating profusely and their clothes were soaked through their backs.

After the worship, the eminent monks hurriedly took off their yellow robes and coats, wearing only simple sweat vests on their upper bodies, which suddenly reminded me of hua monk Lu Zhishen. They were chatting and laughing in twos and threes under the shade of the trees in front of the temple, or were focused on browsing their mobile phones, which was in sharp contrast to the solemn and solemn scene just now.

At the end, the faithful men and women put money into the charity box in an orderly manner; that devotion was exactly the same as in the costume film and television drama, except that the people in the drama were contemporary people.

I stood at the entrance of the Main Hall and took photos, thinking about what I had heard and seen. The eminent monk taking notes at the door gestured to me, pointed to the merit book on the yellow brocade, and said: You can donate.

He is already preparing to record it for me.

I blurted out: I just have a look, I only believe myself and believe my eyes!

(I just have a look, I only believe myself and believe my eyes!)

He was a little suspicious, a little surprised, a little confused, a little uncomfortable Comfortable and a little overwhelmed, he suspected that I didn't understand Chinese.

sweats its own sweat, eats its own food, and does its own things. Indeed, this is my consistent style and concept. I only believe in my drunken eyes.