and then, we are there.
Quietly, so our steps don’t make sound, the sweat is background noise, gold comes into focus, kind eyes. Then rice. It smells like “busy” smells. The thick air temporarily blinds, thick, perfumed, and it’s dense, a dark green light, old but inviting.
“Drinks are there, coffee, tea, water,” a smile and a nod. “Take what you need, and finish your plate.” The speaker is a woman wearing a black-and-white flowered dress, then an older man with a toothed grin and floppy sandals. I listen for characters I know, catching every so often a drawn out syllable of Mandarin pronounced slow enough for my understanding.
We eat our fill of rice, vegetables, and tofu stir-fry before looking up. Stairs point to the sky and each floor resonates with a beauty that can’t listen to the construction taking place next door. Up, up, and up they wrap, past books and manuscripts, bowls of water and bowls of offering, hymns of remembrance and hymns of hope. Resting on a plastic stool, and it seems. This temple is larger than Singapore.
身体健康… 一生安工作顺利…业有成
“Good health, safe work, and success in industry”
as wished on a red ribbon, Buddhist Lodge
The last week has taught me that Singapore is one of those places that is large and small at the same time. Singa-pura: Lion City. Lion because that is what Sri Tri Buana thought he saw in the 13th century when he named the island, and anyways, the lion is a symbol of dominance…right? For a country less than 300 square miles big, some animal has indeed emerged. There is a mane of utopia, as though Singapore has unlocked the key of the jungle, perfection, cultural harmony and economic prosperity. But for better or for worse, the animal itself has teeth and majesty.
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