[breadcrumb]

By Guy Rubin

Centuries ago, in a cliff-face in the midst of China's vast Taklamakan desert, artists hollowed, sculpted and painted 492 caves, creating over 450,000 square feet of spectacular murals, or more than thirty times the mural area of the Sistine Chapel. But whereas the Sistine Chapel was painted over a few years, the works at the Mogao Caves began in the fourth century and were completed over the next millennium.

Given that over that thousand year period competing Imperial dynasties, local aristocracies and even foreign nations conquered the nearby city of Dunhuang, it would have been an astounding feat, perhaps even a miracle, for the painted caves to have survived the subsequent wars and mayhem. However, the Mogao caves – in spite of the unavoidable cultural differences between these different religions and peoples – did not just survive, they prospered through this period. For although rival dynasties, families, tribes, religions and nationalities dominated the area, the sheer magnificence of the Mogao Caves was so overwhelming as to prevail over any differences in its successive rulers. Rather than destroy all vestige of their predecessors, a new ruler would instead fund local artists to incorporate his image into the mythological chorus of the caves' hallowed murals. The ruler would thereby use the caves' beauty to legitimize his new administration. In this way, art served as a bridge linking different peoples to each other; the murals provided a space in which alien cultures could make compromises to each other and salve potential sources of enmity. They were used to finesse contradictions between rich and poor, between Confucianists and Buddhists and between Tibetans, Han and other ethnicities. As such, the murals of the Mogao Caves, bespeaking a universal harmony, herald the triumph of transcendent beauty over the destructive dynamic of temporal orders.

Compare this example of cultural intercourse and compromise with another of Dunhuang's famous sites – the remnants of the earliest sections of the Great Wall. This 16 foot high wall of stamped earth, reinforced with wood, appears as spectacularly random in the midst of the world's second-largest desert. Over two thousand years old, this sinuous fortification, as weathered and cracked as the gargantuan rock formations it purports to divide, now seems more a product of nature than of humanity. Even though the power and scale of the seemingly infinite desert mock the Great Wall's pretensions to mastery, it is an achievement for this human endeavor to have been constructed and have survived for so long in such a hostile environment.

On the one hand, the Mogao Caves create a space for cultures to meet. On the other, the Great Wall was intended to keep cultures apart.

From its inception thousands of years ago, the Great Wall has been a touchstone for debate on how China should deal with her fierce neighbors. Opponents of the Great Wall claimed that peace could only be assured through economic, social and political engagement with China's borderland tribes. When this policy of engagement was preponderant, the borderlands were peaceful. However, at just these times, proponents of the Great Wall argued that Chinese prestige was suffering as a result of China's continual concessions to the warlike tribes, and thus the pendulum swung the other way.

Let us leave the ancient remnants of this Great Wall to travel along the local trade route that led Chinese culture to clash for its first time with a foreign civilization. The Silk Road brought great economic and military benefits to China. The westward export of goods from China fostered terrific fortunes: silks, teas and jade products as well as such brilliant inventions as paper, gunpowder and the compass reaped unimaginable financial rewards. The eastward import of goods most importantly introduced the legendary horses of Central Asia's Ferghana valley; their speed and stamina giving China the military edge in the region. However, the benefits of this trade came at a cost, namely commercial and ideological exchange with alien peoples, societies and cultural values. The homegrown religions of Daoism and Confucianism were threatened by the eastward spread of Buddhism. Han Chinese were forced to deal with the growing military threat of Tibet and the semi-nomadic tribes of the Western regions. Meanwhile the rapid economic and territorial growth of the Chinese Empire was drawing an ever increasing diversity and number of peoples' and thought systems into its sphere of influence. There was a clear danger that this crucible of heterogeneous admixtures would so overheat as to blow the Chinese Empire asunder!

So, how did governors of Dunhuang, the wealthiest and most significant of the borderland areas on the Silk Road, deal with the challenge of managing so much diversity? To understand the factors of their successful strategy, you should firstly put yourself in the saddle of a traveler of the time.

The first time you, yourself, journey to Dunhuang, the closest you will probably come to the vicissitudes of the desert, will be in the flickering shadow of your airplane as it fleets across the pitiless expanses. However, not far from Dunhuang, at the Dunes of the Singing Sands, you can mount a camel and recreate the experience of traveling along the Silk Road two thousand years ago. Even when you are lulled into reverie by your proud-nosed camel's lolling sway, you will still feel the heat of the sun parching your skin. In your imagination, you might see yourself within a large caravan of traders. There may even be a protecting contingent of soldiers accompanying your group. However, it is early morning and the hum of the tall, shifting sands fills you with foreboding. You open your eyes to see the dunes rise out of the air before you; instantly you are dwarfed by the immensity of the desert. One foul sand storm is all that is needed for you to lose your group, your family and your bearings. You recall the stark warning of Fa Xian, that famous monk of the fourth century, who writes from this spot, "the only signs of a road are the skeletons of the dead. Wherever they lie, there lies the road to India." Though you have heard tell of brigands along the way, you now feel all too keenly that your greatest threat lies not from other people, but from nature itself.

The perennial threat of the desert hung over every oasis town, inhabitant and traveler. This constant reminder of life's transience and death's arbitrariness acted as a break on any dispute; it added a broader dimension to life along the Silk Road. Although this factor naturally calmed social unrest, Dunhuang's governors did not need to rely on it. At any given moment, they could enforce their will through a forceful military presence. The threat of their strong garrison was softened however by conciliatory cultural policies. It is the syncretic give and take of this cultural policy of engagement that is exhibited in the murals of the Mogao Caves.

In the shadowy caves (take a torch with you), there is no apparent contradiction between the thousands of Buddhas painted on the lower walls and the Daoist symbols painted on the ceiling. Nor is there one between the Confucianist veneration of ancestors on one wall and a representation of the historic Buddha running away from his family on another. Instead of analytically challenging components of each others' belief systems, the artists have assimilated all aspects of the faiths in a rich mythological tapestry. What appears irrational to one person will surely seem inspiring to another – both will agree that the representations are dazzlingly rich and beautiful.

Hegel observed that we learn from history that we do not learn from history. As we enter an age which the historian Samuel Huntingdon has characterized as being afflicted with the clash of competing civilizations, we do well to remember that civilizations have clashed many times before. They did so along the Silk Road approximately two thousand years ago, and the principle fruit of this encounter were hundreds of cave paintings of spell-binding harmony and beauty.

First published March 2003 in Culturaltravels.com under the title "A Study In Harmony".

Day One 
At the end of our flight, the oasis town of Dunhuang appears unexpectedly in the midst of a seemingly infinite sandy desert. After landing here in the late afternoon, we will check into the Sun Villa Hotel. Tonight, dinner will be served al fresco in the hotel's spacious gardens (weather permitting). (Silk Road Hotel – Deluxe Suite) (D)

 

 

Day Two 
The day starts at one of the world's most impressive cultural heritage sites, the Mogao Caves . Comprising over 400 caves of paintings and sculptures, dating from the fourth to thirteenth centuries, the Mogao Caves are a store of history as much as they are of beauty. Documented amongst the murals are the expeditions of such legendary journeymen as Zhang Qian , the brave expeditioner who first recounted the potential of the Silk Road and Xuan Zhang , the devout monk who imported the first Sanskrit Buddhist texts to China from Northern India. (For most guests, a morning at the Mogao Caves will suffice. Others, however, may wish to spend the whole day exploring the caves.)

After a lunch of local delicacies, we will voyage northwest across the stony desert to Jade Gate Pass (or Yumen Guan), built in the second century BC during the Western Han Dynasty. Named after the high quality jade imported to China from Khotan, 800 miles to the west, the Jade Gate Pass – China's westernmost border crossing – indicated to the weary trader that his eastward journey to China's capital was just under half-complete. A nearby relic from this period is an early remnant of the Great Wall . To enthusiasts, what is most fascinating about this 2,100 year old section is the construction materials used to build it – layers of stamped earth, sand, straw and brushwood. (B, L, D)

 

Day Three 
This morning, we will take a camel ride to watch the sun rise over the Mingsha Sand Dunes. There, sitting above the "singing sands," we will breakfast (weather permitting). Before heading to the airport to return to Beijing, there will be time to visit the White Horse Pagoda, built in tribute to the horse of the famous monk- translator Kumarajiva. (B, L)

Please note that B, L, D denotes Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner.

Dunhuang tours are arranged on a private basis only. Visitors interested in a group tour of China, should view our frequent Imperial Tour.

Qingyang Temple , which literally means Temple of the Dark Ram, is the most exquisite and active Daoist temple in Chengdu . The name is associated with many myths, such as Laozi (the mythical founder of Daoism) claiming that he would be reborn in a market where dark rams were sold, to a meeting of Daoist luminaries at which some dark rams were seen. Whatever the truth of the name, it was acquired in the ninth century after some remarkable phenomenon led to the unearthing of a box which contained a seal on which ancient characters with a Daoist message were carved. The temple has halls devoted to a number of luminaries in the Daoist firmament including Lao Zi, one of the trinity of the highest deities in Daoism; but also features halls with the Jade Emperor who ranks as the senior of the Heavenly Emperors, and other lesser deities. If you see religious or spiritual activities taking place that you might think belong elsewhere do not be too surprised. While Daoism does have its own gods and texts it has always been more open to other influences and will absorb ideas we might otherwise associate with Confucianism, Buddhism, or folk religion much more easily than other creeds will.

The Temple has a public sphere and a more private section where the monks live and practice. The grounds are well-manicured and extensive, and most of the present buildings in the complex date back to the seventeenth century. You can begin your visit with a rub of the ram statue for good luck and then go through to the main halls of worship. To get a good feel for how Daoist philosophy and indigenous Chinese folk religion are all mixed here together don't miss: the signs of the eight trigrams on the Bagua Ting (Pavilion of the Eight Trigrams); the 81 dragons referencing Chinese numerology; and the worshippers in the main hall shaking stalks out of a wooden cone. Once a stalk falls out, the worshipper takes it to a side room where a Daoist Priest exchanges it for an appropriate reading to the silent question the worshipper has asked. If you're feeling lucky then shake a stick yourself or try to throw some coins onto your Chinese zodiac sign.

In addition to the wide-ranging philosophical and folk references within this sanctuary of Chinese thought, there is an impressive array of traditional Daoist activities. Alchemy, once hotly researched here, is related in its exploration of physical and biological laws to the temple's long-standing traditional Chinese medicine practice. The benefits of meditation are combined with precise muscular control in the artful exercise of taiqi as taught by the temple's resident master. The temple's tea ceremony is refined and developed in the same room used by its Daoist orchestra. The combination of richly varied ideologies, images, practices and arts seen in a visit to the Qingyang Temple feels like a celebration of some of the most original and intriguing aspects of traditional Chinese culture.

Day One
Today you will fly to Chengdu, the capital of modern Sichuan province. A historic capital serving as the traditional gateway to the Tibetan plateau, Chengdu has in recent years become a vibrant and sophisticated metropolis. Prepare yourself for mouth-watering Sichuan food, wonderful cultural sites and of course one of the rarest bears on our planet. (Shangri-la Hotel – Executive Riverview Room) (B, L, D)

 

 

Day Two
Early this morning we will take you to the Panda Research Institute, set within spacious parkland, where you will be able to observe pandas being fed a breakfast of bamboo shoots in their lush green pens.

Before lunch, we will visit a traditional Chengdu street to view, if not taste, some traditional Sichuanese street foods and tea-houses. This afternoon, you will drive an hour outside the city to visit one of the most mysterious archaeological discoveries of the twentieth century – Sanxingdui. The site is believed to date from the third millennium BCE. As well as cast bronze "sacred trees" on which stand molded singing birds and hundreds of jade and lacquer wares, there are a series of gold-plated bronze masks that are astonishingly beautiful. Compounding the archeological wealth of Sanxingdui is the silence of any historical record positioning this advanced civilization within the arc of China 's pre-history. This has wrapped the site in a shroud of mystery as intriguing and compelling as that of the Egyptian pyramids. (B, L, D)

Day Three
This morning, we will travel to one of China's most important Daoist Temples, Qingyang Temple. Daoism as a religious practice and institution incorporates a broad and set of historic disciplines within its belief system. As well as the worthwhile chemical and herbal research completed over the ages in pursuit of an "Immortality Pill", Qingyanggong also has a Daoist orchestra, a Taiji master, a Taiji tea instructor, a homeophathic doctor and a Daoist restaurant. Quite apart from a personal meeting with a Daoist monk to learn about such ideological matters as synchronicity, the Eight Trigrams and their interaction with the energy forces of Yin & Yang, visitors will be able to investigate some of the above disciplines and also tour the living quarters of the monks. You will be transferred to the airport in time for your flight to your next destination. (B, L)

Please note that B, L, D denotes Breakfast, Lunch Dinner.

The Temple of Heaven is the most holy of Beijing’s Imperial temples. This is where the Emperor came every winter solstice to worship heaven and to solemnly pray for a good harvest. In ancient China, only the Emperor was allowed to directly worship heaven. Imperial subjects were permitted only to worship their ancestors and river and mountain gods. Therefore, the ceremony conducted at the Temple of Heaven was an act of national importance. Since Imperial rule was legitimized by the”Mandate Of Heaven”, a bad harvest could be interpreted as his fall from heaven’s favor and threaten the stability of his reign. So, it was not without a measure of self-interest that the Emperor fervently prayed heaven to provide a very good crop.

In line with the Confucianist revival during the Ming dynasty, the sacred harvest ceremony was combined with the Emperor’s worship of his ancestors. This embellishment can also be viewed as self-serving. For according to the Confucian pattern of social organization, just as the Emperor respected his ancestors, so a younger brother should respect an elder brother, a wife her husband, a son his father, and a nation’s subjects their ruler. Incorporating ancestor worship within the most solemn ceremony of the Imperial ritual calendar indirectly reinforced the social philosophy that perpetuated the Emperor’s power.

The design of the Temple of Heaven complex, true to its sacred purpose, refers to the mystical cosmological laws believed to be central to the workings of the universe. Hence, complex numerological permutations operate within its design. For example, because the number nine was considered to be the most powerful digit, you will see that the slabs that form the Circular Altar have been lain in multiples of nine. Similarly within the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvest, the interior twenty-eight columns are divided into four central pillars to represent the seasons, twelve inner columns to represent the months and twelve outer columns to represent the two hour tranches that make up a day. There are many such examples of this intense numerology at play.

Whereas in Imperial times commoners were not allowed to enter the enormous park, now for a minimal fee Chinese citizens can enjoy it all day long. Were you to visit at dawn you’d be surprised by the number of people there performing their morning exercises. Next to an older person practicing the slow and flowing movements of Tai Qi, there might be a younger one performing vigorous karate-like punches and kicks. One group might be learning the ancient martial art of sword-fighting, while another might be practising a traditional dance. Should you have the energy and the inclination, it is well worth waking up early one morning and visiting this park to watch such events take place.

According to ancient mythology the Yarlung valley – not Lhasa – is the homeland of the Tibetan people. The first Tibetan king stepped off a heavenly ladder onto earth not in Lhasa, but here. The Yarlung valley was also the kingly seat of the first Tibetan kings as well as their burial site. This being the case, why is Tibet's capital at Lhasa rather than in the Yarlung valley?

As with many aspects of Tibet's culture, the answer lies in her religious life. For Tibet's original Buddhist temple, dating from the seventh century, was Lhasa's Jokhang Temple , still found today pulsating at the heart of the Old Quarter. This institution, contemporaneous with the first Potala Palace , heralds Buddhism's first insemination and dissemination in a flourishing Tibetan empire stretching from western China to Nepal, Bhutan and northern India. Though its political fortunes would wax and wane, Lhasa – "the place of the Gods" – would forever thus be associated with the birth of Tibetan Buddhism . It is this birthright that would maintain Lhasa's prominence through subsequent centuries of bitter regional and religious conflict.

So it was that in the fifteenth century the ascendant Gelug monastic sect , leading a puritanical Buddhist revival in Tibet, established its three stronghold monasteries, Ganden , Drepung & Sera , in the vicinity of Lhasa. The scholarly achievements and political savvy of this sect eventually pushed Lhasa once more to center stage. Two centuries later, under the leadership of the new paramount leader of Tibet, the Great Fifth Dalai Lama , Lhasa was instituted the religious and political capital of Tibet. In 1645 the Potala Palace was re-constructed on Red Hill and the Jokhang Temple greatly expanded. Although some wooden carvings and door lintels of the Jokhang Temple date to the seventh century, the oldest of Lhasa's extant buildings, such as amidst the Potala Palace, the Jokhang and some of the monasteries and properties in the Old Quarter date to this second flowering in Lhasa's history.

The Potala Palace, uniting the political and religious roles of the Dalai Lama, neatly symbolizes the symbiotic relationship of Lhasa's religious and secular roles. This inter-dependent mapping is also seen in the routes of the city's kora or pilgrimage routes. The innermost pilgrimage route or Nangkhor is a circuit along the inside perimeter of the Jokhang Temple. The Barkhor , the best known, follows the circumference of the Jokhang Temple past other monasteries, temples and incense burners of the Old Quarter. And the last, the Lingkhor , circumambulates the city's former outer limits.

Although the Yarlung valley is indeed the mythological and historical root of the Tibetan nation, the primacy of Buddhism within the fabric of Tibetan culture has ensured that Lhasa supersedes it as the spiritual and political capital of Tibet.

By Guy Rubin

Centuries ago, in a cliff-face in the midst of China's vast Taklamakan desert, artists hollowed, sculpted and painted 492 caves, creating over 450,000 square feet of spectacular murals, or more than thirty times the mural area of the Sistine Chapel. But whereas the Sistine Chapel was painted over a few years, the works at the Mogao Caves began in the fourth century and were completed over the next millennium.

Given that over that thousand year period competing Imperial dynasties, local aristocracies and even foreign nations conquered the nearby city of Dunhuang, it would have been an astounding feat, perhaps even a miracle, for the painted caves to have survived the subsequent wars and mayhem. However, the Mogao caves – in spite of the unavoidable cultural differences between these different religions and peoples – did not just survive, they prospered through this period. For although rival dynasties, families, tribes, religions and nationalities dominated the area, the sheer magnificence of the Mogao Caves was so overwhelming as to prevail over any differences in its successive rulers. Rather than destroy all vestige of their predecessors, a new ruler would instead fund local artists to incorporate his image into the mythological chorus of the caves' hallowed murals. The ruler would thereby use the caves' beauty to legitimize his new administration. In this way, art served as a bridge linking different peoples to each other; the murals provided a space in which alien cultures could make compromises to each other and salve potential sources of enmity. They were used to finesse contradictions between rich and poor, between Confucianists and Buddhists and between Tibetans, Han and other ethnicities. As such, the murals of the Mogao Caves, bespeaking a universal harmony, herald the triumph of transcendent beauty over the destructive dynamic of temporal orders.

Compare this example of cultural intercourse and compromise with another of Dunhuang's famous sites – the remnants of the earliest sections of the Great Wall. This 16 foot high wall of stamped earth, reinforced with wood, appears as spectacularly random in the midst of the world's second-largest desert. Over two thousand years old, this sinuous fortification, as weathered and cracked as the gargantuan rock formations it purports to divide, now seems more a product of nature than of humanity. Even though the power and scale of the seemingly infinite desert mock the Great Wall's pretensions to mastery, it is an achievement for this human endeavor to have been constructed and have survived for so long in such a hostile environment.

On the one hand, the Mogao Caves create a space for cultures to meet. On the other, the Great Wall was intended to keep cultures apart.

From its inception thousands of years ago, the Great Wall has been a touchstone for debate on how China should deal with her fierce neighbors. Opponents of the Great Wall claimed that peace could only be assured through economic, social and political engagement with China's borderland tribes. When this policy of engagement was preponderant, the borderlands were peaceful. However, at just these times, proponents of the Great Wall argued that Chinese prestige was suffering as a result of China's continual concessions to the warlike tribes, and thus the pendulum swung the other way.

Let us leave the ancient remnants of this Great Wall to travel along the local trade route that led Chinese culture to clash for its first time with a foreign civilization. The Silk Road brought great economic and military benefits to China. The westward export of goods from China fostered terrific fortunes: silks, teas and jade products as well as such brilliant inventions as paper, gunpowder and the compass reaped unimaginable financial rewards. The eastward import of goods most importantly introduced the legendary horses of Central Asia's Ferghana valley; their speed and stamina giving China the military edge in the region. However, the benefits of this trade came at a cost, namely commercial and ideological exchange with alien peoples, societies and cultural values. The homegrown religions of Daoism and Confucianism were threatened by the eastward spread of Buddhism. Han Chinese were forced to deal with the growing military threat of Tibet and the semi-nomadic tribes of the Western regions. Meanwhile the rapid economic and territorial growth of the Chinese Empire was drawing an ever increasing diversity and number of peoples' and thought systems into its sphere of influence. There was a clear danger that this crucible of heterogeneous admixtures would so overheat as to blow the Chinese Empire asunder!

So, how did governors of Dunhuang, the wealthiest and most significant of the borderland areas on the Silk Road, deal with the challenge of managing so much diversity? To understand the factors of their successful strategy, you should firstly put yourself in the saddle of a traveler of the time.

The first time you, yourself, journey to Dunhuang, the closest you will probably come to the vicissitudes of the desert, will be in the flickering shadow of your airplane as it fleets across the pitiless expanses. However, not far from Dunhuang, at the Dunes of the Singing Sands, you can mount a camel and recreate the experience of traveling along the Silk Road two thousand years ago. Even when you are lulled into reverie by your proud-nosed camel's lolling sway, you will still feel the heat of the sun parching your skin. In your imagination, you might see yourself within a large caravan of traders. There may even be a protecting contingent of soldiers accompanying your group. However, it is early morning and the hum of the tall, shifting sands fills you with foreboding. You open your eyes to see the dunes rise out of the air before you; instantly you are dwarfed by the immensity of the desert. One foul sand storm is all that is needed for you to lose your group, your family and your bearings. You recall the stark warning of Fa Xian, that famous monk of the fourth century, who writes from this spot, "the only signs of a road are the skeletons of the dead. Wherever they lie, there lies the road to India." Though you have heard tell of brigands along the way, you now feel all too keenly that your greatest threat lies not from other people, but from nature itself.

The perennial threat of the desert hung over every oasis town, inhabitant and traveler. This constant reminder of life's transience and death's arbitrariness acted as a break on any dispute; it added a broader dimension to life along the Silk Road. Although this factor naturally calmed social unrest, Dunhuang's governors did not need to rely on it. At any given moment, they could enforce their will through a forceful military presence. The threat of their strong garrison was softened however by conciliatory cultural policies. It is the syncretic give and take of this cultural policy of engagement that is exhibited in the murals of the Mogao Caves.

In the shadowy caves (take a torch with you), there is no apparent contradiction between the thousands of Buddhas painted on the lower walls and the Daoist symbols painted on the ceiling. Nor is there one between the Confucianist veneration of ancestors on one wall and a representation of the historic Buddha running away from his family on another. Instead of analytically challenging components of each others' belief systems, the artists have assimilated all aspects of the faiths in a rich mythological tapestry. What appears irrational to one person will surely seem inspiring to another – both will agree that the representations are dazzlingly rich and beautiful.

Hegel observed that we learn from history that we do not learn from history. As we enter an age which the historian Samuel Huntingdon has characterized as being afflicted with the clash of competing civilizations, we do well to remember that civilizations have clashed many times before. They did so along the Silk Road approximately two thousand years ago, and the principle fruit of this encounter were hundreds of cave paintings of spell-binding harmony and beauty.

First published March 2003 in Culturaltravels.com under the title "A Study In Harmony".