Quest for the golden deity
originally written: March 16, 2000
(Taiwan)
That far off city, now enveloped in a fog of memory, no longer real, no longer tangible, only offered me one great adventure. My purpose there it would seem was simple, absurdly so. One day, not long after settling in, it greeted me under the afternoon sun. It, a golden statue high up on a hill surrounded by leafy trees, called out to me – I’m waiting for you. The early summer sun radiated enough heat to suppress the shiver that wanted to creep down my spine. There was no one I could go to, with whom I could have discussed the strange attraction I felt towards this golden monstrosity on the hillside.
At first, I tried to ignore it--it was just another statue after all, just another statue. But then I would see it gleaming in that afternoon sun and my curiosity would awaken. Every time my gaze landed on it I felt the call—I’m waiting for you. After a few days I began wondering about how long it would take to reach the deity, if I could get anywhere near it. I told myself that one weekend, one day, maybe a Saturday, I would set out before it got too hot and make a day trip out of it. That all planned out, I sat on it. Yeah, yeah, one day I’ll get up to that golden statue, but the days went by. Finally, one day when some forgotten depression was drowning me, I got up without thinking, only hoping to get lost while running away so that I could not turn coward and find my way home. I decided in an instant to head up the hill and find the golden deity, not because he offered me any answers or any peace, but because I thought that there was something to be gained in the search.
There is something quite fascinating to me about finding one’s way by feel. I tend to annoy traveling companions with my aversion to asking for directions. The search, the journey is (for me anyway) usually more rewarding than the destination. It is when we get lost that we are found again, when we stumble down the wrong path that we discover the peace of knowing the way. It is way of learning to appreciate our stability. So when I arrived at the statue’s feet only twenty minutes after setting out without even encountering a single wrong turn, I could not help feeling disappointed.
Looming on the roof of a monastery, the statue appeared quite eerie up close. The usual glow that it emanated from afar was gone. In its place, was a green-hued shine that did little to comfort me. I stared at the figure remembering that it symbolized something to the natives that I would never really understand, and maybe that I did not really want to understand. “He’s just another inanimate god,” I thought to myself before turning my back on him. I did not go home right away, I was still looking to lose myself somewhere, so I walked up the next hill to the cemetery. Yes the cemetery is up on the hill while the living live together squashed into the unenlightened valley. While passing by—I did not have the nerve to enter it— I saw large clouds of smoke rising from the desolate looking place. It formed quite a picture in my mind, the grass withered, brown, the tombs like miniature mansions with windows and doors, the sky almost a Greek blue and then this thick, dark, sooty cloud strong with the scent of living flames. Soon the fire engine came crying up the hill, rushing into the cemetery and down over the crest to where the fire must have been.
I continued along the road hoping to find something more welcoming, but there was just the one road optionless, leading down into another valley. It left nothing to decide, but I wanted that freedom, that power. Since it offered me no choices and only dictated the future, I turned back taking an unfamiliar route home.
At first, I tried to ignore it--it was just another statue after all, just another statue. But then I would see it gleaming in that afternoon sun and my curiosity would awaken. Every time my gaze landed on it I felt the call—I’m waiting for you. After a few days I began wondering about how long it would take to reach the deity, if I could get anywhere near it. I told myself that one weekend, one day, maybe a Saturday, I would set out before it got too hot and make a day trip out of it. That all planned out, I sat on it. Yeah, yeah, one day I’ll get up to that golden statue, but the days went by. Finally, one day when some forgotten depression was drowning me, I got up without thinking, only hoping to get lost while running away so that I could not turn coward and find my way home. I decided in an instant to head up the hill and find the golden deity, not because he offered me any answers or any peace, but because I thought that there was something to be gained in the search.
There is something quite fascinating to me about finding one’s way by feel. I tend to annoy traveling companions with my aversion to asking for directions. The search, the journey is (for me anyway) usually more rewarding than the destination. It is when we get lost that we are found again, when we stumble down the wrong path that we discover the peace of knowing the way. It is way of learning to appreciate our stability. So when I arrived at the statue’s feet only twenty minutes after setting out without even encountering a single wrong turn, I could not help feeling disappointed.
Looming on the roof of a monastery, the statue appeared quite eerie up close. The usual glow that it emanated from afar was gone. In its place, was a green-hued shine that did little to comfort me. I stared at the figure remembering that it symbolized something to the natives that I would never really understand, and maybe that I did not really want to understand. “He’s just another inanimate god,” I thought to myself before turning my back on him. I did not go home right away, I was still looking to lose myself somewhere, so I walked up the next hill to the cemetery. Yes the cemetery is up on the hill while the living live together squashed into the unenlightened valley. While passing by—I did not have the nerve to enter it— I saw large clouds of smoke rising from the desolate looking place. It formed quite a picture in my mind, the grass withered, brown, the tombs like miniature mansions with windows and doors, the sky almost a Greek blue and then this thick, dark, sooty cloud strong with the scent of living flames. Soon the fire engine came crying up the hill, rushing into the cemetery and down over the crest to where the fire must have been.
I continued along the road hoping to find something more welcoming, but there was just the one road optionless, leading down into another valley. It left nothing to decide, but I wanted that freedom, that power. Since it offered me no choices and only dictated the future, I turned back taking an unfamiliar route home.
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