Let me tell you about the legend of the White Pagoda in the city of Lanzhou. It was built to honor a famous Tibetan Lama who was on his way to Mongolia to meet with Genghis Khan, but the traveling killed him somewhere in the vicinity Lanzhou. This Lama is so famous that absolutely no one can tell me his name or what he died from (most people laugh and say it was the water). In honor of his memory, the great Khan ordered a white pagoda to be raised on a hill on the north bank of the Yellow River shortly after the Lama’s death in 1228 AD. The original structure collapsed and was rebuilt in 1405, expanded in 1715 and renamed several times. These are the sole facts that I can gather and verify. In fact, the pagoda is not even white, but more a red-brown desert color. Even the White Pagoda’s plaque affixed to the base of the structure cannot be relied upon and doesn’t even contain the name of the Lama it honors. I was intrigued. I began calling it the Dagoba (a pagoda is the westernized name) of the unknown Lama. Why would Genghis Khan, a famous nomad, build a fixed monument to a Tibetan Lama high above the rolling brown Yellow River? Research revealed a rich mosaic of Genghis Khan’s strategic maneuverings. Pre-Genghis, Lanzhou was a critical fortress city, important for control of the Hexi Corridor and the Silk Road, and while the Northern Jin and the Southern Song Dynasties where fighting everywhere else for control of China it was seized by the upstart Xixia Empire, briefly. It was subsequently re-conquered by the Song Dynasty and later by the Jin Dynasty, squabbling like flocks of screeching seagulls over the rich prize, each Dynasty’s resources stretched to the max and ripe for Genghis Khan’s insinuation. He first concentrated on overpowering the Xixia Empire while playing the other two Dynasties against themselves, then reached for a wild card, proposing an alliance with the rulers of Tibet—horseback warriors as fierce as any Mongol, whose Buddhist beliefs had spread to his own tribes, to establish a powerful united front for the eventual conquest of all of China. The Yellow Hat Sect in Tibet embraced the idea and sent a high-ranking Lama to meet with Genghis Khan to work out the details. We will never know whether they were in true agreement with the Khan or were simply trying to placate him. The Lama died along the way and the meeting was never held. And so, that’s where our story comes full circle. Before I set out to climb up to the White Pagoda, I had someone write in Chinese: What was the name of the famous Lama the White Pagoda was built for? And: How did he die? I walked through the day, summer approaching on roller skates, along the Yellow River turned brown with Tibetan snowmelt eroding the desert sand and carrying it downstream, across my beloved Zhongshan Bridge, the first iron bridge across the Yellow River, through the gate of White Pagoda Park, then climbed pleasantly upward. Everyone I met, I showed them my notebook and asked the two questions written in Chinese characters. Most shook their heads and laughed. Others looked at me as though I was trying to trick them. No one knew the answers. I climbed up through a pleasant forest with stunning views of the river and the southern bank of Lanzhou. Near the top, the afternoon sun shone in what filmmakers call the ‘Magic Hour’, when everything is illuminated in clarified butter light, manna from heaven light, mashed potatoes and gravy light. I took out my camera and snapped away furiously but also managed to stop, sit down and look at everything. The unnamed Lama was laughing at me/with me. He was saying, “Who cares what my name was. I am all around this place. What I was then I am no more. Sing the joy of my unknown name. Of your unknown name. And the secret name of everything. Let it enter you and then you will know my name.” I watched the brown river flow through the skyscrapers. I promised myself I would pay more attention, then completely forgot my pledge and turned inward. Wouldn’t it be nice if the light clarified everything? If you knew what you should do? If you knew where you belonged? If you knew where everything belonged? But just then, I belonged right there, having conversations with the famous unknown Lama, in the golden light of magic hour, as Genghis Khan blew smoke rings that formed clouds in the afternoon breeze and alluded to the temporary nature of all things, me included, and the riddle of everything is locked away in the smiles of the fifty-six Buddhas peering out from an eight-sided pagoda built by a warrior for a pacifist monk. Click on photo essay of White Pagoda Park.
2 Comments
Erika MarĂa
5/28/2013 05:09:40 pm
More than an ancestral symbol, White Pagoda is the ancestor himself.. I feel now a great desire to hear more about Asian legends... in my eyes is not so much about the scenery but the feeling. Thanks for the historically mystic legend.
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Mary
5/29/2013 07:34:48 am
Another amazing diary of the Pagoda lengend. Hey ee if you knew everything what would you have to look forward to and we would not get these excellent writings of creativity. You are where you are suppose to be at all times just enjoy the adventrue and keep the diaries coming. The Yellow River sure is brown.lol Amazing pictures from the top what an interesting Park which captures history from long ago and today. Thanks for sharing this adventure with us. love ya, m
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