Essay About Guardians Chimes

Sometimes I have moments in peace and quiet, and wonder about anything. To not have the need to think about tomorrow, but to enjoy the immediateness of where you stand and appreciate existence. Taking a trip away from our fast paced life halfway across the world to the small southeastern countries. Leaving the airport, the last place that had a sense of familiarity, my family hailed a taxi and we drove into the heart of the city.

The cab smelled, foreign. I don't have the right words to describe it, rather you could sense that cabs the history simply by being inside. Peering from the car the chaotic streets filled with lip smacking savory food stalls, shouts of vendors with idle talk of locals shops, loud bustling busy roads, and the dry dusty tar accompanied by the haze of exhaust. They all melded together like a strange musical which played on a never-ending loop. Other than the utter disarray of the road, statues and shrines which popped up often caught my eye. Our driver spoke to us in his heavy breath aside a broken accent. “ Da statue you see, is for good luck. You respect the protector, and they keep us safe, and you live happy, yeah!?” Father spoke up, “Oh yeah, around these parts the Toma is an extremely popular guardian. The people pray to it and give it offerings in exchange for many things.” Huh I thought to myself while my father conversed with the driver.  After an educational 3 hours we arrived at our grandfather's home.

The end always comes, or at least change comes whether it's you or something else. Next moment we dropped into the countryside. The city's symphony was replaced by the gentle melodies of the breeze and the distant noises of livestock. It was quiet, perhaps too quiet, actually it was outstandingly boring and plain. Everyone else was talking with each other or working. I could not understand a thing. Mother came and gently informed me “ You know, there is a bamboo grove here, I used to run around in the spring. Why don't you explore it for yourself? Maybe you will find something you didn't expect.” I shrugged my shoulders, why not? It would be better than staying in this house.

I haven't been this close with nature in a while. Of course nature never ceases to amaze me sometimes. The bamboo grove entranced me. Every step the earth beneath my feet gave a 

crisp crunch tickling the air with the surrounding  silence. The earth was buried under the fallen leaves and flowers. The stir of my steps broke the stagnate plant debris. The petite flowers fragrance wafted into the air, it was a gentle scent, the fragrance danced with the smell of the fresh bamboo forest and earth in the wind. The fresh cool air kept my stamina up encouraging me to explore the other secrets. Perhaps a sense of childish curiosity took over, abandoning my leisurely stroll. I took the opportunity to explore. Down the trail I wondered further into the grove. The gentle breeze which carried me into the bamboo grove shook the trees, making them look as if they were waving to me and quiet gentle rustel of their leaves seemed like they were whispering. Amongst the whispers I heard the faint chimes, looking up I saw red ribbons tied to steel bells.  The wind blew the chimes, guiding me down the path I did not notice before. There, a rustic small shrine was at the end of the path. The years had definitely worn it away, a faded color from the little sunlight it occasionally received, along with rains staining its once white color. I gently reached out to it, wanting to quench my curiosity. It was rough, yet not as dirty to my contrary. The wind blew and the sound of bells chimed, reminding me that it was folded within its maze. On the pedestal was another stone statue, proudly taking the center on the pedestal. Taking my fill of the stature I turned around at head back over to the house. The bells chimed as I left. Taking a glance once more. Strange, I didn't feel a breeze this time. 

After my long stroll I told my mother and grandfather about how scenic it was. My mother hardly translated what I spoke to my grandfather. In a short minute his expression shifted from his calm, happy expression to one of slight confusion in surprise. In a fast paced voice he exclaimed in surprise to my mom although I wasn’t quite sure what he had said. My mother turned to me, her face also looking confused. Apparently grandfather takes care of the groves from time to time but the old bells they rusted nearly 5 years ago haven't heard a chime from the winds in the last half decade. He hasn’t seen the bamboo forest blossom in the last half decade. He doesn't expect them to blossom again for another 15 years. My mother then responded, maybe one or two of those bells still work or the one was blowing quite harder than usual. From there on she turned her head and continued conversing with the rest of the family. We stayed for a month in the old countryside.  I quite often took a stroll into the bamboo grove again but, strangely enough I didn’t hear the chime of the bells nor smell the sweet scent of flowers. Still, I appreciated the grove whenever I took a stroll, maybe I was thinking too much about it.