In the summer of 1994, Lin Huaimin flew to Bodh Gaya, where the Buddha attained enlightenment, with the novel "Song of the Wanderer" by German writer Hermann Hesse in his luggage. Hesse, who won the Nobel Prize for Literature, wrote the classic work "Song of the Wanderer" at the age of 45 (also translated: Siddhartha's Path to the Way). of various ways of seeking the Way, and attaining Consummation when they let go of all the ways. In Bodh Gaya, Lin Huaimin saw hundreds of beggars, handicapped and lepers gathered outside the Dajue Temple. No improvement?" Suddenly, he realized that the Buddha is not a god, but a mortal, and in order to benefit all beings, he thought hard about the philosophy of life that would allow the world to live in peace. He moved his head and bowed. One day, sitting in meditation under the Bodhi tree where the Buddha realized, the sun shines through the gaps in the leaves, Lin Huaimin felt a warmth between his brows, and the peace and joy he had never felt enveloped his body and mind. Returning from India, he created "Song of the Wanderer" like flowing water. Lin Huaimin likes to say, "This is a gift from the Buddha." Thus, the dance "Song of the Wanderer" that we can watch today was born. "Song of the Wanderer" is definitely a feast for the eyes and ears. The choreographer put three and a half tons of rice on the stage, allowing us to enjoy a feast of rice: Valley Spring, Valley River, Valley Rain, Valley Waterfall, Valley Hill, and a stage full of golden rice. The choreographer used Georgia folk songs as the soundtrack. The music is powerful, low, vicissitudes, and the notes of a long river contain incomparable tenacity and strength, which is natural to dance. And those men and women dancers in ragged clothes, their appearance was shocking, and people felt the suffering of the road to the Tao. A dense bunch of valley springs descended from the sky and gurgled on top of the bald head of a dancer who was pretending to be a monk. For the next 90 minutes, he remained motionless, folded his palms in prayer, and was baptized with rice (holy water). The rice grains that fell vertically from the sky rustled on the top of his head, splashed to his fingertips, and bounced again, blooming, falling, and slowly piling up under his feet, like a hill. Under the light, the grain of rice itself is a dance. Golden, with sound, smooth lines, gorgeous paths, moving and still. Along the winding holy river made of rice grains, those men and women in ragged clothes struggle, trek, pray, and offer sacrifices...their dances are pious, sacred, and full of ritual. It was a great shock to jump at the rice again and again, or roll, jump, spin, and whip. The movements of their limbs are like that from the inside, like an unstoppable instinct, not dancing for the sake of dancing. And the dancer, who was only in company with the rake the whole time, raked the rice paddies full of rice into a giant circle. Rake this circle, it took a full 24 minutes. What kind of aura was that? Seeing the dancer sweating profusely from the close-up view, and watching his concentration and doubts, are all amazing. "Song of the Wanderer" is a baptism of the soul. "What is contemplation? What is body renunciation? What is fasting? What is breath-holding? It is a temporary flight from the 'self', a temporary escape from the pain of life; it is An alleviation of the pain of life, an alleviation of the folly of life." These are the words of Hermann Hesse in the novel "Song of the Wanderer". After watching the dance "Song of the Wanderer" choreographed by Lin Huaimin, I began to understand the meaning of this passage. "Song of the Wanderer" is conveying a kind of self-forgetfulness, a kind of relief from the pain of life. And this kind of liberation of self-forgetfulness requires spiritual pursuit on the one hand, and material labor on the other hand.
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