Ninja at the Temple Hall
During
the summer vacation, an overnight camp happens here in this temple hall,
too. We all lie down on the floor like people
in a slave ship, the latter of which I later learned about in the world history class. I am not kidding. There is no space between our bodies, and nobody
is allowed to move from where they are assigned to sleep. Technically, both sides of our bodies are
touching someone’s skin. If not
someone’s skin, it is a wall. To clarify,
no one is able to move any of their body parts.
The only thing about this that is better than a slave ship is that we
only do this on one night. The reality that
you have to sleep like this is shocking enough that your common sense is
betrayed, and you cannot remember to do minor things, even things as simple as remembering
to be quiet after lights off. Two seconds
after the lights go off, I start hearing someone snoring. As I get familiar with the snoring sound as a
kind of sounding rhythm, I, too, join La-la land. At that second, a neighbor’s leg attacks my
belly. Ouch! I learn quickly that a deep sleeper’s body is
twice as heavy than their regular weight.
My attempt to roll over is unsuccessful due to the limited space. The person on my other side is quite active,
too. Her fingers cover my neck.
My
mind keeps swaying between reality and dream for a long time while I protect
myself from the people’s random body parts surrounding me. I get a kick to the top of my head, too. It wakes me up instantly. This person already turned himself around 180
degrees. I remember his head was
touching my head before lights off. I wouldn’t
have been so optimistic and thought to sleep until the next morning if only I
had known that the most terrifying moments were around the corner.
Something
touches my right upper face. This object
is hard on the outside but not terribly hard on the inside. Its pressure
doesn’t stop until it gradually sinks completely into my cheek. “Ouch!
You are stepping on my face!” I
murmur with a dreamy voice. “Sorry,” Ms.
Hori whispers. Ms. Hori stepped on my
face! She might have skillfully walked
through tiny spaces before, like a Ninja, however, she is not quite skilled
like a real Ninja tonight. I am the
primary practice obstacle for her master Ninja-walking training. Tonight, I involuntarily sacrificed my face
for the Ninja training. This kind of sacrifice
itself is not a totally negative experience if you are a typical student in a
Buddhist school. Or is it a kind of ordeal? Do I have to experience this to be a good
person, just because it is happening in the temple hall? I simply wish I had a sophisticated definition
of “sacrifice” during this overnight camp in the temple hall. Without any answers, it is just painful.
This
temple activity hall itself is the reason my school chose an elephant symbol
for the bus; it is a symbol of Buddha. Sacrifice
and ordeal are some parts of the Buddha package you have to go through, at
least during a summer camp. Unlike its
painful image, the children’s classrooms sound cheerful. The one 3-year-old room is called the Plum
class, the two 4-year old classes are the Stars and the Moons, and the two
5-year-old classes are the Cherry Room and the Peach Room. We students are as adorable as the classroom
names. At the same time, our school
often expects us to excel beyond our potential as if just being in the Buddhist
School instantly makes you a respectful Buddhist. An example of this is when we were not allowed
to move while we stayed in the temple hall in the camp as. Its tormenting discipline is the exclusive
reflection of the painfully strict ordeals that Buddha has experienced himself. On the other hand, its educational beliefs,
such as “compassion” that Buddha taught, are implemented and delivered by the
loving teachers, like Ms. Aoki.
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