Xinjiang mysterious free travel - Tuyugou (1): the place where the soul converts

Xinjiang mysterious free travel - Tuyugou (1): the place where the soul converts

After four hours of crossing the ditch and ridge, I finally came to Tuyugou.

A legendary place, a place where the seven major religions once gathered, a place of ever-changing places, and a place where souls are converted. When approaching Tuyugou, I was a little confused, a little curious, a little apprehensive, a little yearning, approached, approached.

Under the setting sun, a quiet small village, old and peaceful, sits there quietly waiting for us to walk in.

This village has a history of 2800 years, and its stories are long and long. Seven religions have spread here, including the well-known Buddhism, Taoism, and Islam, the little-known Nestorianism and Shamanism, and the mysterious and unexplored Manichaeism and Jackoism. It is Tuyugou in Turpan, an ordinary small village with a thousand-year history.

In the setting sun, we passed through the village, walked past the mosque, crossed the small river ditch, and found the Xinjiang uncle who was on duty, a dedicated cultural relics caretaker, and a passionate Uyghur uncle.

Against the gradually falling sunset, we walked up the mountain in the face of the rushing river. There are Buddhist caves thousands of years ago waiting for us. When the big iron gate creaked open, the Southern and Northern Dynasties, the Tang Dynasty, and the thousand-year-old us came.

The path was rugged, and I felt uneasy. Suddenly, a happy Uighur boy jumped up and held my hand, enthusiastically handed over a bunch of green grapes, picked one and put it in my mouth. The sweetness that permeated my heart and lungs made my nervous heart relax all of a sudden.

I knelt down and hugged him, happily sending my "thank you". Hand in hand along the way, we use different languages, the same emotion, different words, the same love, to go up the mountain. Although it is already dusk, under the setting sun, this village where the seven major religions are integrated has become a practice place for kindness and love.

On the mountain, there are countless empty and dark caves, and the evening mountain wind blows through, making the cave entrances appear even deeper. If we travel back to the Southern and Northern Dynasties, there will be thousands of monks and nuns sitting there practicing alone, one Buddha and one scripture, one pot and one pot, one up and one down, accompanied by the sunset, the river, the wind and the sound of trees, in the Chanting in the forest. Today, time flies, mountains and rivers exist, but the Buddha's voice has drifted away with the years, without sound or form.

Turning around the mountain and turning the water, we came to a small cave, the door was locked by an old gate, just as we were about to turn back, the uncle took out a bunch of keys from his waist, only to hear a series of jingle bells , the door creaked open

In an instant, the sky was no longer dark, the cave was no longer dark, and a ray of Buddha's light came to us. Under the call of the Buddha, we walked back to the Southern and Northern Dynasties, and we walked towards the Buddha.

Here is the place where monks practiced thousands of years ago. It is the call of the Buddha and the universal illumination of the Buddha. We saw the remaining Buddha statues on the wall, showing us the smooth and elegant lines of the Buddha murals from the Southern and Northern Dynasties to the Sui and Tang Dynasties. And there is a rhythm, which is both brilliant and harmonious and pleasing to the eye. Some parts of the walls have been peeled off, and some places have been artificially stripped, which is already very dilapidated, which makes us feel a little regretful when we are excited. Is our millennium history just weathered in the years?

Suddenly the uncle pulled my arm, turned around and looked back, we were amazed, the Bodhisattva was there, looking at us quietly, with kind eyebrows and downcast eyes, holding flowers in Buddha's hands, not saying a word, neither sad nor happy, clothed With a fluttering belt, a flower and a smile, great love spreads throughout the world. Suddenly, I felt a little bit of coldness on my face. It turned out that I had burst into tears inadvertently. Comrade Lao Qiu said in a low and trembling voice, "I just took a look at you across the millennium."

When I walked out of the Buddhist cave and heard the door was locked with a bang, I felt my heart was hollowed out, and I walked down empty in my heart. Although the road was still the same road, it seemed that the mountain was no longer that mountain. It was no longer the river.

I communicated with my uncle in two languages ​​that I could not understand but could understand, and hated the thieves from Germany, Russia, and Britain a hundred years ago, who stole our history, our culture, and our treasures.

Thinking of the Tuyugou murals in the Berlin Museum that I saw on the Internet, I can only sigh: We can't reminisce about the glory of the past, and we can't visit the splendor of the past. Just for a moment, I feel more happy in my heart. The Uyghur uncle's love and care for the culture here have been integrated into his life. He has guarded this place with his life for decades, just to protect the last glory and light. Saying goodbye to the uncle with a hug, the admiration and admiration that cannot be expressed in words.

When we walked down the hillside, the night was dark, the moon was rising, the birds had returned to their nests, the puppies had returned to their nests, and the village was even quieter. Except for the sound of running water, there was only a tree at the entrance of the village standing alone by the river. A few remaining leaves bid us farewell, see you tomorrow.

Stay overnight at Master Bayi’s house, hot finger meat, fragrant roast lamb, and all kinds of fresh fruits. The roasted naan just out of the oven, one piece after another, the meat sandwiches the naan, the soup soaks the naan, the most important thing is just to eat the big pieces of the naan. As for us, we didn't have time to eat large pieces of meat, but kept performing the banquet of "Lanling fine wine luminous cup, if you want to drink the pipa, immediately remind you".

The pit at Lord Bayi’s house made us fall asleep when we were already slightly drunk, dreaming back to Tang Dynasty overnight, full of gold and iron horses.

In the morning, I was awakened by the aroma of mutton soup and rice, and accompanied by the lingering aroma of roasted naan last night, I happily finished my breakfast. Today we are going to walk into Tuyugou, a village inhabited by Uighurs.