By Irene Sardanis

Our plan to visit Hong Kong included checking out the ferry to Kowloon, dining at some noodle cafes and it included seeing The Great Buddha.

That morning to the Great Buddha our Hong Kong train took us to the Tung Chung station.  The crowd included mothers holding their children’s hands. At the Disney World station all the mothers and children left.  Most of the crowd thinned out. A few of us remained to the last train stop. There signs directed us to a cable car that took visitors to the Big Buddha.

At the desk there were different types of tickets to purchase:  basic ones or the expensive packages that included a visit to the Ngong Ping village and a monastery near the Buddha figure.  We selected the basic package.  Just take us to the Buddha, thank you.

Long lines of tourists waited to get on the cable car. They stood with flowered shirts, cameras dangling from their chests.  I didn’t know what to expect.  Maybe a brief ten-minute ride on the cable car to the Buddha statue. Maybe an event similar to an amusement ride at some carnival. But that’s not what happened.

We got on the tram with three Chinese middle-aged women casually dressed, not obviously tourists.  They smiled and bowed to us. The door clanged shut. One woman clutched the arm of her friend.

The cable car ascended over a bay of the China Sea, Lantour Island, with lush green hills around us. We left behind skyscraper monolithic apartment buildings that grew smaller and disappeared as our cable car swung up.  “Oooh!” one of the women exclaimed. I too was captivated by the expansive view. 

On one side, I could see the China Sea, and on the other, the Hong Kong International Airport with planes landing and taking off. Ten minutes later I realized that this was not an amusement- park ride.  I wasn’t sure what that meant but my feeling of anticipation grew with possibilities. It felt more like a spiritual journey.

All around us were green verdant views of hills above and below, with a few waterfalls.  A narrow footpath snaked upward.  There I saw a single person resting under a shaded bush. That was something I knew I couldn’t do but thought it inspiring to see someone on his own footpath journey to visit the Great Buddha. My way was to get there fast to see what it was all about and leave. Here was someone who chose a slower more meditative path to get there. Bravo, Mr. Pilgrim. We were both pilgrims with different trails to get to the same place, uncertain how seeing the Buddha would affect each of us.

The climb continued.  One of the women in our close quarters had an iPhone that played Chinese music.  She put it to my ear.  I smiled and moved my body to the rhythm. The women laughed and applauded my spontaneous response.  Another woman opened her purse and shared her chocolate candy with us.  We were enjoying our own private party. We were all having a good time on our voyage to the Buddha.

The cable car climbed up yet another hill. I expected we must be there now.  But no, not yet.  I relaxed and enjoyed the ride, the company and the incredible views around me. All my thoughts centered on this moment, nowhere else.  I slowed down.

After twenty minutes, something appeared.  Off in the far distance on the left, a faint view of a dark form.  The statue. The Buddha! We were all ecstatic, all of us pointing to the form ahead.  The cable car stopped ten minutes later and we all got off.

The path to the Buddha was lined with countless souvenir shops, noodle cafes and yes, even a Starbucks.  These commercial places were everywhere.   My husband and I walked fast, ignoring the modern-day temptations.  And the Buddha lay ahead.

 As we approached the statue, I experienced an inner stirring, a yearning to get as close as I could to the Buddha, to show my humble gratitude, to pay homage. The statue was grey in color, gigantic in size, maybe ten stories high. I was surprised and welcomed feelings of awe and reverence. A tall staircase led to the Giant Buddha. 

 I began my ascent to the giant figure ahead.   I climbed ten steps; rested, then climbed another ten steps. I took a breath, then paused and looked up.  His magnificent form, eyes half closed and a slight smile was in a meditative state. One hand was on his left knee, relaxed, the other lifted palm outward as in greeting us. I was overcome with feelings of worship, humbled by the majesty of the Great Buddha. 

I stood so still in his presence and realized that I couldn’t sit that way even for five minutes in my regular life.  Yet I stood before him in devotion and never wanted to leave.

My husband, the hiker, bolted up the stairs and was halfway there as I started my meditative climb on my own path.  At each landing, I paused to catch my breath.  On each landing, I met strangers who nodded to each other in compassionate understanding. We all knew to reach the Buddha would not be easy.

At each landing, I looked up ahead of me at the great statue, and a feeling of holiness enveloped me. The Buddha’s face grew larger as I got closer, then it disappeared in clouds. In high elevation his head became obscured by misty clouds which added more spiritual mystery to him.  Finally, at the top I could see the platform where the Buddha sat in all his majesty. And here, this very small person looked up at his feet. I knew I was in the presence of some great being.

At church I have kneeled, but now I wanted to bow down in reverence to the Buddha. To fall on my knees before him in gratitude and humility.  I wanted to worship him. My heart had opened.  I felt love for everyone around me. I wanted to camp out at the feet of the Buddha. to meditate at his feet, to wait, reflect and just be there until some “aha” moment hit me, some insight, inner wisdom to take in about my life.  I knew I needed to slow down, way down to get it.   I looked at my camera to take a photo.  Uh, oh. No film.

“Let’s take some photos. I’m out of film. Can we use your camera?” I asked my husband pointing to the Buddha.  He shook his head.

“My camera’s not working.” All calmness disappeared.

I hoped to take at least one photo of my husband and me in front of the Buddha statue, something tangible to take back with me.  I wanted to mark the event.

 I felt sad not to have a photo to remember this event. I walked slowly around the Buddha to take in the memory of Him with me. Others walked too. We walked slowly.  All of us looked up at Him in reverence.   A young Chinese woman approached me.

“Please” she asked, “Would you take a photo of me in front of the Buddha?”  And then, she added, “I will also take one of you.”

It was as if an angel had appeared, heaven sent. How did she know how much I wanted to have a photo memory of being at the Great Buddha?

“I’ll e-mail a copy to you if you like,” she said smiling. So, we posed as the camera went back and forth between us.  She took a photo of my husband and me. Click, and then I took picture of her posing in a yoga posture. Click.

I clasped my hands in prayer and click she took the picture. We exchanged e-mail addresses. Then she walked away.

Now my husband stood at the bottom of the stairs. Time to leave. I began my descent away from the Buddha, down the stairs. At each step downward I experienced another opportunity to slow down. I turned to look at his beneficent face. I, the non-believer felt worshipful.

At every level, I turned and looked up above me.  Each time I observed another feature I had missed. I wanted to linger, go back up the stairs and not leave. 

Even without my I-phone, I became the camera. I took in each thing I noticed and etched it into my brain. A definite transformational shift was made.  In his presence, I became a Buddhist.

At the bottom of the steps, I turned and took one last look up at the Great Buddha.  I expressed a few words in reverence as if he could hear me. I went to the Buddha as a tourist.  I came back a pilgrim. I bowed and said, “Thank you. Thank you.”

We were alone on the cable car as it descended.  My husband took both my hands.  No words were necessary.  The journey to the Great Buddha had touched us both.

Irene Sardanis is a retired psychologist. She resides in Oakland, California. To learn more, visit. irenesardanis.com

Photo: By Rutger van der Maar - https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=103576278