Money and death, a meditation

Lilith and I took a shorter walk than is usual this morning; my knees and hips hurt last night. Lilith has been a bit stiff-legged of late, too. Yesterday at the cemetery I was hailed by a Cardinals fan and later by a couple who wanted to know if Lilith is a Swedish Vallhund. Humane society, more like, though the Vallhund does bear a resemblance to her, when I look later. Two people in recent days have reached out to Lilith because they miss their dogs at home (Orlando, Arizona). As a walker, I'm also a tourist, despite my "eh, Ola, get one pony tail?" at the top of the hill. Better put, I'm the liminal space between visitors and workers and other walkers, to whom I tell my stories. And, of course, the dead. 

 

The Byodo-in Temple at the back of the cemetery used to provide a strong link to the local Japanese Buddhist community. An on-line guidebook, dated 2021 but undoubtedly written years earlier, reads: "Other ongoing events and activities offered at Byodo-In include cast paper sculpting each Tuesday, the art of making ribbon lei on Thursday, sumi-e or ink painting each Friday, and ikebana or Japanese flower arranging and tea ceremony on the second Saturday of the month. Visitors may also enjoy Jorei, a cleansing body and mind therapy, offered by practitioners who visit the temple regularly." The guide book tells us about "the wizened reverend of Byodo-in," Rev. Fukuhara, and the "events coordinator, Nancy Kreis." She was in charge of community engagement, I find, and also a "sales consultant," based on her referring some of her friends to the business (of "death care," as their website calls it). 

 

Rev. Fukuhara died in 2019. Nancy Kreis is no longer associated with Valley of the Temples cemetery. They appear to have been the last links in a chain between the local community and the temple. Some days, most recently Memorial Day, the cemetery is full of local people, bringing flowers and plate lunches to their ancestors' graves. I talk to them when they--and their restless small children--notice Lilith. We chat over their small hands on Lilith's head. That this demographic is changing is clear from a new job ad at the cemetery for "bilingual" sales people. I doubt if that means they're looking for Ilocano speakers. Instead, I suspect that the monstrous Christian nationalist tomb at the top of the hill, developed by a Chinese man who wants his tomb bigger than that of the good general farther down the hill, presages what's to come. Ferdinand Marcos's ex-tomb seems modest, by comparison. 

 

This place of "deep calm and peace" (see the website) now exists only in corporate language. It's now the land of huge tour buses, bright rental cars, and omnipresent orange cones. The woman who used to sell tickets to the temple quit, replaced by employees from the gift shop. The security guys are all gone, replaced by cameras on tall sticks, each with its own solar panel. The golden phoenixes on either side of the temple roof are better described, as one worker put it to me, as "fighting chickens." Money and death, as you like it. The Temple stands, empty of ritual, but full of visitors.