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In a land where official Buddhism can often be used to oppress, the true spirit of the Buddha's teachings can better be found at the village level and captured in Burma's statuary, stupas and many remarkable temples. All Photos by Ken Lee

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By Lisa Kelly
FOR HUNDRED MOUNTAIN

WINTER 2000 | LIKE BURMA’S MONSOON RAINS, Buddhism permeates the land, from sudden showers of sidewalk shrines to the magnificent thunderstorm of a temple.

Traveling from small towns to major cities, visiting sacred sites ranging from village shrines to the vast temple-strewn plains of the ancient city of Bagan, we found that kindness, compassion and faith thrives in the shadow of the Burma’s infamous military regime.

I traveled to Burma in July with my boyfriend, Ken, and our friend Paula. We were not on a pilgrimage – we are not even Buddhists, really, just spiritual mutts with a tendency toward Eastern spirituality in all its forms. None of us had been to Burma.

Nearly 90 percent of Burma’s population practices Theravada Buddhism, and the Burmese have produced some of the world’s most beautiful Buddhist monuments.

DECAYING COLONIAL-ERA BUILDINGS line the streets of Yangon, their colors mottled by tropical moisture and moss. Vendors crowd the sidewalks along the busiest streets, selling everything from calculators to herbs to used books.

Just north of central Yangon on Singuttara Hill looms Shwedagon Paya, Burma’s most significant Buddhist site. “A golden mystery… a beautiful winking wonder,” Rudyard Kipling called the massive gold stupa (religious monument), which stands 321 feet tall. Although earthquakes have destroyed the stupa several times through the years, the original supposedly housed eight hairs of the Buddha, who gave them to two Burmese merchants in India. Guarding the four entrances to the site are 30-foot-high chinthes, half-lion, half-griffin creatures.

As we enter the walkway at the bottom of the hill, women push lotus flowers, white jasmine garlands and sticks of incense into our hands. We buy only a few sweet-smelling garlands, then leave our shoes in numbered boxes before ascending to the top of the hill on a series of escalators.

Our Lonely Planet Guide could not adequately prepare us for what can best be described as a Buddhist Disneyland. Surrounding the golden stupa is a labyrinth of shrines, temples, and images of all shapes and sizes. Despite what some might consider the garishness of the place, it is remarkably beautiful and serene. The sheer number of images, as well as their diversity in size and appearance, is overwhelming. The Burmese are fond of white-faced buddhas with red lips, black hair and black-lined eyes. But many of these buddhas are also made from bronze and other materials.

We walk clockwise around the complex, the marble tiles smooth and warm beneath our bare feet. Many people stroll casually; some meditate, some burn incense and candles. Others read newspapers, reclining against mirrored pillars in the presence of enormous gold buddhas.

We are two of only a handful of Western visitors, and people stare at us with a friendly curiosity. I feel conspicuous with a camera and feel uncomfortable taking photos, although it is permitted. It’s difficult to resist the attempt to capture the essence of this place -- even though capturing the essence of such a place is nearly impossible. In the early evening, a spectacular sunset bathes the gold dome with rosy light. The night falls and the lights go up, transforming the place into a glowing wonderland. Tiny lights in haloes behind the buddhas' heads flicker in circular patterns.

PAGE 2: Flames penetrating darkness