Yellow River Odyssey by Bill Porter

Bill Porter's father robbed a bank and went to jail. When he got out, he sold the family farm and went into hotels and made a killing. Porter lived in luxury until his father divorced his mother. He went into the military and college, and ended up a monk in Taiwan, then a radio interview, travelor, writer and translator. 

Inspired by Yasmin Nair to mention publishers outside the big 5, I'm reading Yellow River Odyssey by Bill Porter, which is published by Chin Music Press from Seattle.

I've read Road To Heaven, South of the Clouds, The Silk Road, Zen Baggage (as Red Pine), and his poetry translations of Cold Mountain, and Stonehouse, and others. He's by far one of my favorite writers that I'm really enjoying. He published many of his works through Copper Canyon Press.

What I've liked about his books is that I go online and read more about the things he mentions, and it really enhances my feeling that I'm reading a book, and gaining knowledge about Buddhism and China. He doesn't explicitly talk about the Cultural Revolution much, but bouncing back, and the hermit tradition seem to speak on it. 

In this book, he's once again finagaling and avoiding being overcharged as a westerner in China. I don't think he's being condescending when he points out the quaint mythology quirks, like two of the 56 tribes trace their descent from frogs. In this one they set up cameras to catch islands where the Taoist immortals are supposed to reside. It's like waiting for the great pumpkin with Charlie Brown, it could be fun even if they don't show up. 

You get a sense that nobody thinks like him in China, visiting dusty old graves of long dead people. Confucius supposedly heard harmonious music that he thought of for months. At the museum, Porter was the only visitor. We don't know when this was, I caught 1992 in his 2016 Silk Road book, and in this one he says he went in March 1991 (p.36).

What was the harmonious music Confucius heard? I imagine the flower duet.

He goes to Thousand Buddha Mountain, and Lingyin Temple, which 30+ years later looks awesome, and has a picture of monastic quarters. When he went there he didn't see a monastic. Seems like a more vibrant center now.

Reading online things are difficult in traveling in China at the present. Multiple perspectives on Reddit, but there are also multiple posts complaining about travel in China at the moment. 

Mencius (371-289 BCE) story (p. 72-73):

"Ox Mountain was once wooded, but because it was close to town, its trees were all cut down by wood collectors and builders. And as time went by, it was visited by herds of cattle and sheep that grazed on its grass until there was nothing left but barren rock. When people see the mountain today, they imagine that nothing ever grew there. But surely this wasn't the true nature of the mountain. The same might be said of human beings. We all possess feelings of kindness and justice. But day after day they are hacked away and destroyed by the way we conduct our lives. When this happens to us, we can't imagine that once our nature was different. But surely this is not our true nature. Confucius said, 'Hold fast to it, and you preserve it. Let it go and you destroy it. Confucius was speaking of nothing other than this heart of ours, which must be nurtured in order to protect it from woodcutters and shepherds. And in nurturing the heart, there is no better method than cutting down on our desires."

That is from a Confucian disciple that Porter likes the most. This book isn't as Buddhist focused, more general culture, which is fine with me. I love the Buddhism, but I'm not opposed to others.

He goes to the place where two great Chinese poets met once. Li Bai (701-762) and Du Fu (712-770) met and had a few drinks and shared a blanket. A more recent writer was around there too, Kong Shangren (1648 – 1718). Bill Porter spells things differently than on Wikipedia. He uses  a different transliteration system.

Du Fu poem Spring Outlook:

The state shattered,　river and mountain survive　
　　The city springfallen,　weeds and trees take ground
Touched by the times,　tears splash at sight of blossoms　
　　Aggrieved at displacement,　the heart jolts at birds' sound
The beacons of war　 have brimmed three months with flame
　　Letters from home　 are now worth a thousand in gold
I scratch and pull　 so much at my whitening hair　
　　It'll soon be too thin　 for my hatpin　 to keep hold

Seems like an appropriate poem for our times.

Li Bai poem Rising Drunk on a Spring Day, Telling My Intent:

Here among flowers one flask of wine,
With no close friends, I pour it alone.
I lift cup to bright moon, beg its company,
Then facing my shadow, we become three.

The moon has never known how to drink;
My shadow does nothing but follow me.
But with moon and shadow as companions the while,
This joy I find must catch spring while it's here.

I sing, and the moon just lingers on;
I dance, and my shadow flails wildly.
When still sober we share friendship and pleasure,
Then, utterly drunk, each goes his own way—
Let us join to roam beyond human cares
And plan to meet far in the river of stars.