Brooming the Graveyard

Whenever I returned to Jingzhou for a short stay with my mother, I would take time to visit my father's grave, but more often than not I did this only half-heartily, because I thought such traditional acts of ancestry worshipping as burning scented sticks, playing firecrackers and, especially, setting a large amount of hell money on fire for the dead were not merely ridiculous but a waste of resources. For me, writing poetry or stories was a much more meaningful way to commemorate him.

However, I had an epiphany this time.

It was on the morning of November 9, two days before my long journey back to Vancouver. Busy with my preparations for the departure, I had almost forgotten the matter completely, but my mother reminded me that in our folk culture people aged over 70, sons-in-laws, the sick, children under three, and pregnant women were not allowed or encouraged to visit a grave; in other words, I was obliged to go to my dad’s grave since this was my last chance. To honor my filial duty or, more exactly, to please my old sick mother, I asked Yun, my newly retired younger brother, to drive me to our family graveyard located in the heart of Lotus Flower Village, where we both grew up as foster children. Upon arrival, I insisted on paying for all the worshipping materials out of my own pocket. While Yun was getting everything ready, I broomed our father’s grave meticulously and cleaned the tombstone with a brand new towel. This done, I knelt down in front of my father, made as many as nine kowtows and set off the firecrackers, something I had never done personally in the past. After a short but highly sentimental conversation with my father in my mind, I got up, ready to leave the site, but Yun refused to go right away after he finished the ritual.

"Why not?" I asked.

"I cannot, in good conscience,"" he replied.

"Just why?"

"Cuz I wanna clean the whole family graveyard!"

"But that would be a whole morning's job, given as many as nine tombs!"

"Be it a whole morning or a whole day, I wanna do this, since all the dead are our relatives."

"Aren't we supposed just to clean our father's tomb?"

Instead of giving me a direct answer, Yun began to pick up all the fallen leaves and twigs, putting them well into a cemented trench and burning them up. In the meantime, I had to use a big borrowed bamboo broom to sweep the whole gated yard. To me, this was really unnecessary since our cousins, nephews or nieces would do their shares respectively when they came to sweep their parents' tombs.

Seeing how diligently and attentively Yun was working, I suddenly recognize him as a much more pious, earnest and caring person than myself. Perhaps it was precisely because of his kindness and sincerity that had won him more blessings from our ancestry. Otherwise, he would not have been able to have more friends and a closer relationship with kinsmen, live with a far more loving wife and dutiful son and enjoy a much better health, though he was far less 'successful' than me in the eyes of others.

"So, this long tradition of ancestry worshipping may have a pragmatic significance after all," I told myself. Long before this idea crossed my mind, I had done quite a lot of studies and thinking about fengshui. For instance, I know well that if a parent is buried on a better fengshui spot and thus lives in a better yin residence after death, or if a graveyard is situated against a hill at the back in a place facing towards the south where there is water running, their descendants would be karmaed to receive more blessings, but if they fail to perform their filial duties, they would never be able to get any real benefits. Only when good fengshui elements are matched with kind human deeds can the best result be achieved, as in Yun's case.

Thinking along this line, I become acutely aware of the reason why Chinese people have been following the tradition almost blindly since the beginning of time. What makes all the difference is whether one believes in certain things before one actually takes any action, or otherwise. For me, I have to see some hard evidence or go through a testimonial experience before I can subscribe to a belief. But for Yun, who has had much less formal education and been around the world in a much more limited way, faith is something he has embraced unconditionally. By giving everything the benefit of doubt with or without intention, he is able to live a healthier and happier life.

Perhaps, all the education I have received, coupled with all the thinking I have done and all the life experiences I have undergone both in the eastern and the western worlds, has only made me a pragmatist or pessimistic cynic, I thought. "Perhaps, I should broom my own mind first!"