The memories of my hometown are lost day by day by time.

Flowing days only make people lifeless. Idle down, hum a few Qin tones, and everything will be left behind. That's it, it's not perfect, it's still full of regrets. If you are in the countryside, you can be unrestrained, tear your throat and yell loudly! Not at all in the city, there is no such freedom for people to play.

When life goes blank, man becomes a fly without a head. Always when I am adrift, I want to find a place to go, a space, not to place the body, but to anchor the mind.

The so-called spiritual support, for me, in addition to books, there is only a distant nostalgia.

The past is like smoke, and it seems to have turned into dust. Only when the sunlight shines into the heart, can you see the dots of particles floating in the light of that ray of light. Many times, the more I try to catch them, the faster they slip away.

In my childhood memories, apart from water, I was a Buddha.

Buddha, in that life, was not faith, but could be equated with a fairy tale. All this is not a flying immortal, but under the influence of my grandmother.

My mother would occasionally say to me:

When you were young, your mother-in-law (we all call grandmother mother-in-law, not the second voice of Mandarin, but the first voice of the local dialect) didn't care much about you, why do you still love her so much?

This sounds like an instigation. Actually, it's all true. Besides, no matter how many grievances my mother had with the people in this family, she would never ask us to be disrespectful to any of our elders.

All I can remember is snuggling up to my grandmother on the warm kang of the old house, listening to the old man tell me stories, talk about the world, talk about God, and Taoism.

My grandmother's faith throughout her life was simple and religious. In the old man's conception, gods and ghosts belong to the same world. If there is a difference between the two, it is probably the difference between the sages of the world and ordinary people. Despite the differences, my grandmother's devotion to the Buddha and respect for the deceased remained the same. My grandmother had never read a book, but she had always practiced the ritual of "worshipping the gods as if they were gods."

Grandmother is small-footed. In my memory, the old man rarely moved, and most of the time, he either lay on the kang of the old house or sat on the dismount stone in front of the old house.

There is one thing that my grandmother persists in: that is, burning incense, chanting, and bowing in front of the Buddhist shrine every morning and dusk; Before each worship, you must wash briefly.

Grandmother's wish is that someone can inherit her incense and not end up snubbing the gods.

How did I get involved with the Buddha? If you search for your memory again, you can't show any pictures and texts even if you try your best. Perhaps, you don't need a reason to like and be obsessed, and I don't know why it's so?

If I had to find a reason, I think it would be out of love for my grandmother.

If you think about it, I was very skinny, even a little bad when I was a kid. I can fight and run like crazy with the kids and savages in the village. How many times did I get angry and my mother cried. However, in front of my grandmother, I was always an obedient child.

The streets of our village are east-west. It is said that before the "four olds", the east and west of the village were temples, and the scale was not small. Unfortunately, because of the destruction, by the time I was very young, there was no trace of it.

When I was eight or nine years old, I don't know whose proposal it was, but the old people in the village suddenly remembered to restore the temple fair. The temple is gone, but the temple ceremony can still be held.

Next door to the old house is a warehouse from the agricultural society period. During the Republic of China, this was my family's garden. At that time, large families had gardens. According to my grandmother, this neighborhood used to be my family's ancestral hall. In my first memory, I think it was before I was four years old, when my father held me in front of the door of this warehouse and received meat from the agricultural cooperative, about before the company was disbanded. At that time, it was still bustling with activity. It was also used to be the place where the chaff machine and the straw cutter of the production team were stored.

Later, as soon as the agricultural society was disbanded, the place was abandoned.

Later, someone made a large part of the yard here, but a very narrow yard was left behind. Because the house here also provided shelter from the wind and rain, one of the old men proposed that the gods be placed here temporarily. Thus, the warehouse became a temple. This temple carries my memory; This temple has also made me a Buddha.

When I was young, I always pinned my hopes on things that adults couldn't understand. I grew up day by day by my grandmother's side, listening to "The Huang Lady to King Kong", "Xiangshan Temple Vow", "Eighteen Layers of Hell", and there are strange stories in the world like the story of Liaozhai.

Some people like to criticize the simple beliefs of the old people as superstition. I think, most of the time, it's just a spiritual sustenance. The stories of those fairies and ghosts are not just a yearning for the beauty of the afterlife, nor are they just a simple proclamation of good and evil rewards. It contains many people's sophistication, the memories and reflections of the old people's lives, and the simple way of doing things.

Because of this, because of my grandmother's influence and love for my grandmother, I became the most active member of all the Buddhist activities that my grandmother participated in.

The first Buddhist activity was to help the old people clean the temple and listen to the old people sing and chant the scriptures. All this, the influence on me, is still alive today, although I have ignored Buddhism for a long time. In the days of my youth and frivolity, when I was in a state of turmoil, Sanskrit sounds could bring me to peace. Also, the Buddhist scriptures that my grandmother taught me, I can remember them now, it seems that there are "Great Compassion Mantra" or "Rebirth Mantra", I can't remember the name. When these incomprehensible mantras are recited, a state of tranquility can also be generated.

In addition to helping my grandmother clean the temple regularly, there are two other things I like to do the most: one is to chant Buddhist scriptures with my grandmother, and the other is to burn incense and worship the Buddha instead of my grandmother.

When the old people gather in the temple, they will recite some so-called "Buddha" that originated from the people. The reason why it is called "Buddha" is probably to distinguish it from "sutras". It can be said that the "Sutra" is the text of the great righteousness of Buddhism of the academic school that sits upright; The "Buddha" is a local specialty of the folk grassroots to explain the small explanations of Buddhism. The chanting of "Buddha" has a certain tune, and it has also been completely localized. Because, later, I heard from my father that this tune adopts the song notation and singing method of the Qin dialect branch - Meihu.

My grandmother has a very good memory, and I talk about this whenever I think of her. I often regret that the elderly did not study.

When my grandmother was seventy or eighty years old, she could still say the long, long fast book "Da Xianzhou" word for word. I asked my grandmother, who taught you fast books? Grandmother said that when she was a child, she heard that Hanako had come to the village to beg for food, and the children followed her to listen to Hanako's quick book, and her grandmother was also one of them. My grandmother's memories of being a child lasted a lifetime, and it was amazing that she could never forget a large number of quick books! After my grandmother married into this family, under the guidance of my grandfather, she memorized the whole book of "Huang's Daughter to King Kong", and the whole book was recited. It's just that the memories of middle age obviously can't be compared with those of youth, so the "Huang Girl vs. King Kong" that my grandmother told me is just a story, not the original text of the scriptures.

With such a surprising memory, my grandmother naturally wrote down a large number of "Buddhas", which can be said to be "full of scriptures". It's just that this "scripture" belongs to the Buddhists; and not his "scriptures", but his family.

At the village fair, my grandmother would recite sutras, but very little. The reason is that the elderly are old and lack of strength. However, the grandmother would speak the Buddha to others. In this way, I was also inspired.

In the beginning, the chanting of the "Buddha" that I learned was limited to the "harmony" in "singing". What is "and"? Specifically, it is like this: one person reciting the Buddha is equivalent to leading the chant, reciting a sentence, and everyone "harmonizes". It is somewhat similar to a chorus, where one person leads the singing and everyone sings in chorus. It's just that this kind of singing is that the leader sings a sentence and the harmonies sing a sentence together, which is completely fixed and will not have too many twists and turns. The content sung by the lead singer is a coherent excerpt or paragraph; The harmony of the singer is two fixed words and tones, and after the leader sings, the two sentences are echoed by the singer in a cross-loop, presumably to avoid repetition.

I still remember the "Tea Bowl Sutra" that my grandmother taught me. It can be used as an example for everyone to see:

Sole collar: A tea bowl with flowers inside, ah

Zhonghe: Buddha

Sole collar: Eat fasting and chant Buddha to take root, haa

Zhonghe: Amitabha, Buddha

Sole leader: Single-mindedly Glory Society, ah

Zhonghe: Buddha

Sole leader: I want to see one Buddha and two bodhisattvas, Haa

Zhonghe: Amitabha, Buddha

The above is a passage from the "Tea Bowl Sutra". There are ten passages in this sutra, and this is the only one I can remember. Each paragraph is pressed with a rhyme, probably for the convenience of memorization and chanting. The chanting is done in the aforementioned Meido tune.

At that time, in the chorus of many old people, my children's voice was added, and when I think about it today, it is a strange scene. I don't know how much praise I have received for this. More than 20 years later, when I think back to the old people, most of them are like my grandmothers, who have passed away.

In addition to singing harmony, the only Buddhist thing I can participate in is to burn incense and chant sutras on behalf of my grandmother when she is not feeling well. At this time, I was able to recite on my own the simple scriptures necessary for daily lessons, such as confessions, introductory texts, and burning prayers.

Speaking of simple scriptures, in later days, I also learned to twist the straw rope:

To say that you can is to be able to;

Sit down and twist the straw rope;

A twist of Ding Lang to carve his mother;

two twisted Wang Xiang to lie on the ice;

Three twists and three Xiao Yellow River arrays;

Fourth, twist Tang monks to learn scriptures;

Five, twist Xiangzi with Lingyou;

Six twists Meng Jiangnu crying on the Great Wall;

Seven twists and seven immortals with cowherd;

Eight twists and eight immortals came to cross the sea;

Nine twists, nine immortals, nine dragons;

Ten twists of straw rope to be made.

These "Buddhas", which seem as simple as nursery rhymes today, were told to me by my grandmother at that time.

In this way, I worshipped the Buddha with my grandmother and participated in Buddhist activities, and finally one day, I also wanted to have my own Buddhist shrine.

I can't remember where the original gods and Buddhas came from. I just remember that the Guanyin that I have been offering since then and is still offering at home was picked up by my father when he went out sometimes.

My father has a very big temper, and he can't get used to it, whether it is the king of heaven or Laozi, he is just one word - scolding. My father didn't believe in gods and ghosts, and my father's disgust for the so-called young and middle-aged people in the village who "pretended to be gods and ghosts" was naturally to express his dissatisfaction and indignation by scolding. However, my father took the old people's Buddha for granted. Every time my grandmother burned incense and paper, she would write a vow, and my father would respectfully write to Mo. Naturally, my father would not say anything about my grandmother's worship of Buddha, and as for my worship of Buddha, my father even gave me considerable support.

There is a statue of Guanyin in the grandmother's shrine, whether it is a bronze body or a gold body, which is still a mystery to this day. This was picked up by my father when he was leveling the land where the old temple was located in the east end of the village.

Coincidentally, the plaster body of Guanyin I worshipped was also picked up by my father. My statue was about the same size as my grandmother's, but when I brought it back, Guanyin's hands were broken. Still, in my heart at that time, that Guanyin was still the supreme god.

My grandmother served the Buddha and recited a confession every night. I don't know what the old man thinks about his life. At that time, my life was just the beginning, and when I burned incense for my grandmother and worshiped the Buddha, if it was night, I would also recite a confession. My confession then, when I think about it today, was just a formality. At that age, there is neither anything to repent nor the ability to reflect.

My father once went to a neighboring county and bought two incense burners made of gypsum: the body of the incense burner is round, there are two dragon heads as ears, the body of the incense burner is painted gold, and the two dragon heads are decorated with different colors, which is very beautiful. Of these two incense burners, one for my grandmother and one for me. After having my own Buddhist shrine and an official incense burner, my Buddhist affairs are already very real. At that time, what a joy it was for me!

The incense sticks and tables (yellow paper) I use to worship the Buddha are all prepared by my mother.

From about the second grade of elementary school until I graduated from junior high school, I continued to worship Buddha for seven or eight years.

Every morning, I get up, wash up, burn incense in front of the shrine, recite simple scriptures, and bow, all of which I do before I put on my schoolbag and go to school. Sometimes, when you wake up late in the morning, you just give up. The evening ritual didn't seem to have been interrupted much.

In the third year of junior high school, my grandmother died.

After that, I started to leave home to study.

This is the end of my Buddha worship activities.

Nevertheless, my relationship with the Buddha is still there, and my love for the Buddha is still there!