China's economic rise has brought a raft of benefits to the population, but that rise has also led to increased pressure as people strive to compete and become successful.
Many may quietly dream of giving up and embracing a simpler lifestyle, but the common perception of a life of peace and tranquility is often far removed from the reality. "People say we are running away from our problems. We are not," said Zhi Jun, a lay practitioner who lives in the Zhongnan Mountains in Shaanxi province.
In the Arabian adventure tale Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, "Open Sesame" is the secret code that unlocks the door of a treasure-filled cave. For visitors to the Zhongnan Mountains, the recluses who reside there are so secluded that they may as well be hidden behind that famous cave door. They are China's modern-day hermits.
The mountains, an hour's drive from Xi'an, the capital of Shaanxi province and home to the legendary Terracotta Army, have reputedly been playing host to hermits since the time of the Yellow Emperor, Huang Di, some 5,000 years ago. Many famous ancient scholars and even emperors have shared the Zhongnan hermit experience.
The range, also sometimes known as the Taiyi or Zhounan Mountains, are said to have become popular with Taoists in the time of the Qin Dynasty (221-206 BC). Meanwhile, the introduction of the Buddhism from India in the early part of the first millennium AD saw the arrival of Buddhist monks. Moreover, the Quanzhen School of Taoism, often known as the Sect of Complete Perfection, is reputed to have been founded somewhere in the mountain range.
That legacy has made the mountains the top destination for those who desire isolation and peace at a particular phase in their spiritual development. The majority of the residents are monks, nuns or lay practitioners of Buddhism or Taoism. They come and go according to the needs of their practice.
Attaining wisdom
Historically, the hermitic tradition has been one of the most important aspects of Chinese society. People almost always think of hermits as outcasts, because they want to step out of society and have nothing to do with it, according to Li Jiwu, a researcher in religious studies at the Shaanxi Academy of Social Sciences. "Chinese hermits have always sought to attain wisdom with which they can help to guide society."
Li, who has been studying the mountain's hermit culture for five years, believes these reclusive people perform vital work on behalf of the society they've shunned, both by setting an example to others and by passing on the wisdom they've acquired. "Although these people live far away from modern society, they are actually helping it. They're like a mountain stream that brings fresh water down into the town - the water eventually reaches it one way or another," he said.
Estimates vary on the number of people in residence, but Li said there are currently about 1,000 hermits living on Zhongnan. Over the past few years he has seen a significant increase in the number of people adopting the lifestyle. "Society puts too much pressure on people," he said.
"Some of us recite sutras all day, while others meditate. Sometimes it could be a combination of everything," said Zhi. "It doesn't matter what we do as long as it helps us find inner peace and the true self, which is really easy to lose, but hard to find again in the city."
The very nature of their calling means that by definition hermits don't like to be disturbed, that's why they live in areas that are difficult to reach. It took an hour of hiking on narrow ice-covered paths to get to where Zhi lives, even though it is relatively close to the entry point for the mountain.
"We don't open our door to visitors who are just curious," said Zhi, pointing to a sign hanging on the door that reads, "Meditating. Please don't disturb."
"Zhongnan's hermits don't knock when visiting each other. Instead, we call out 'Amita Buddha', which is one of our secret codes," Zhi said.
Mao peng (grass hut) is how the hermits refer to their homes, which vary from houses made of brick or adobe to huts made of dry grass. The buildings are dotted around the various peaks.
Zhi recently repaired the mao peng where he and his master live. He replaced the old, fragile bricks with new ones at the end of last year. "Many outsiders think of us as cave men. Although our need for material goods has been minimized as much as possible, we are still civilized," he said.
In common with the other hermits, Zhi's daily routine includes cutting wood for the fire and fetching water from a mountain spring, tasks he sees as part of his meditative routine.
Having lived on the mountain for three years, Zhi described how the change of environment and lifestyle has transformed him. "I am woken up by birds singing, instead of car horns and I go to bed when the sun goes down, I have become at peace and can truly focus."
Zhi used to be a well-paid salesman in a city he refused to name. "Back then I felt rushed all the time, but didn't know why," he recalled. "So many questions popped into my head and society was unable to provide me with answers. I felt like I was carrying a very heavy backpack all the time. I couldn't move on without unloading it.
"I used to work day and night to buy a bigger house, but now I realize that all I need is a roof over my head," he said, while boiling spring water for tea. Zhi said he will leave Zhongnan when he is ready and will pass on what he has learned to others. "It's a bit like advanced studies here. Afterwards, I can influence others," he said.
The natural world
Qing Yi, who lives close to Zhi, has been a resident of the mountain and practicing Buddhism for eight years. He isn't alone, though, as his 9-year-old daughter Xixi has been living with him since the age of three. Qing, who is in his 50s, insisted on educating his daughter himself about the beauty of the natural world. "I would love my daughter to learn from how trees grow and how the seasons change. Nature is the best teacher," he said.
Qing's ideals are supported by his wife, who works in a school in Xi'an.
Qing used to own a successful business. To seal deals he had to attend banquets almost every evening. "One day I realized that what I was doing was absolutely meaningless, because neither me nor my family were happy."
He then planned to emigrate, so he traveled around Europe for a year trying to find a place that would bring joy to him and his family. Eventually, he abandoned the quest. "I realized that you can't find happiness and peace anywhere but in your heart," he said.
So he gave away his business to a friend and moved to the mountains: "I don't encourage people to become a hermit like me, but I would love to give them advice if they have doubts."
Letting go of wealth
The hermit culture has been associated with the mountain for so long that the local authorities and people are very supportive towards those setting up their mao peng.
The authorities even allow hermits to live in an abandoned village located higher up the mountain. The villagers moved out in the 1990s as a part of a poverty alleviation program. The village accommodates about 16 hermits, and although they live close to each other, they rarely talk.
"Not everyone can cope with the hardship and loneliness on the mountain, especially lay practitioners. I have seen many quit within weeks because there is always something they can't let go, such as wealth or even the Internet," Li said. "People should realize that it is not a getaway holiday. Being a hermit is a serious lifestyle choice."
A person can only be truly called a hermit if he stays on the mountain for at least three years, said Li.
Kong Gu, a Taoist priest, says that spending time alone on the mountain helps him concentrate. He moved to the abandoned village about one and half years ago from a Taoist temple in Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan province. "The temple isn't quiet enough and there are too many distractions with the other practitioners around," he said. "Here I can focus on practicing, because I am completely on my own with nature," said the 40-year-old.
Like the other hermits, Kong lives on collections from villagers and his family. "I spent about 800 yuan ($127) last year and that was enough for my body and brain to survive. That's all I need."
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