Chinese Red - Temple Vermillion

The moment you take even a step into the Sino-Asiatic world - any part of east Asia with a significant Chinese population or under Chinese influence, or else into your nearest Chinatown - you enter a world coloured with red. It is very conspicuous. The Chinese adore the colour red. It features in all of their adornments, both domestic and public. But it is not just any colour red - it is a very particular type of red. Not fire engine red. Not Santa Claus red. Not Red Cross red. Not communist red, either. No. It is Chinese lantern red. Chinese temple red. It is a particular, unmistakeable shade of red usually identified as "vermillion" or else, in the past, as "cinnabar". See the colour square above for an example. 

There is no official definition of the exact shade but in the sample given above "vermillion" has the Hex value #E34234. Any shade of red near to it will pass as "Chinese red" as we will call it here. You will find it used in a thousand different ways. Red lanterns. Red ribbons. Red signs. Red seals. The present author has recently arrived in the Chinese section of George Town on the Prince of Wales Island and this "Chinese red" is on display everywhere. He recently ate at the "Red Garden Food Paradise" which is literally "Chinese red" from top to bottom - red tables, red chairs, red writing, red uniforms on the waiting staff. Everything in this distinctive "Chinese red". 

The standard explanation for the love of this colour among the Chinese is entirely unsatisfactory. We are told, unhelpfully, that the Chinese regard it as "auspicious" and that it brings "good luck." More detailed explanations are equally uninformative. We are told that it "symbolises fire" and this "represents spring" and the "direction south" and is therefore "lucky" or "auspicious" for this reason. Certainly, the Chinese are given to preoccupations of "luck", but surely something more lies behind the ubiqitous use of red, and this particular red. How do we explain that this red - this "vermillion" - is regarded as "auspicious", and also why it is so completely and comprehensively "auspicious" that the Chinese use it so extensively in all contexts great and small? What is it about this red, this particular red, that renders it so important to the Chinese? In the pictures below we see some examples of its many uses:

Tradition lacquerware

Temple entrance with lanterns 

Row of lanterns

Traditional seal (or "chop")

Chinese wedding 

Calligraphy

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The present author offers the following explanation for this characteristically Chinese phenomenon. It is not difficult to piece together the symbolism of this colour in the Chinese tradition:

Until the development of synthetic alternatives, this particular shade of red was traditionally prepared from 'cinnabar', which is to say from Mercury Sulphide (HgS). Cinnabar is a sulphide of mercury that, when ground into a powder, yields a strong, stable permanent red that can be used in paints and lacquers. Good, stable red colourings are relatively rare in nature, so this preparation - a by-product of mining and metallurgy - was especially valued. 

It was not exclusive to the Chinese, though. Cinnabar (the name comes from Greek but is probably Persian in origin) was known and used in other cultures as well.  We see it used as a red ink in medieval European manuscripts, for example, and as a paint used in the murals of Roman Pompei: 

But the Chinese adopted it as their own. The reason for this is that the Chinese tradition - and especially Taoism - is essentially alchemical and cinnabar, as a metallic essence, is a key ingredient in Taoist alchemy. In the Occident alchemy is, and has always been, a peripheral or 'fringe' tradition. In the Chinese spiritual order it is far more central and mainstream. The colour symbolism of 'Chinese red' and its associations with 'good luck' have a basis in and are to be explained by the significance of cinnabar in Chinese alchemy. 

The primary alchemical significance of cinnabar is this: during the mining of gold the miners might encounter 'veins' of red cinnabar (Mercury sulphide)in the bedrock. Gold and cinnabar are often found together. This is because both gold and mercury are heavy metals and such metals tend to be found in the same geological strata. (For the same reason, arsenic and other heavy metals are often found with gold.) 

Thus cinnabar is associated with gold and in the alchemical mythology of gold mining is often called 'Dragon's blood'. Dragons are believed to store and protect gold in their 'lairs' in the womb of the earth. When miners encounter 'veins' of blood-red pigments running through rocks near and around gold deposits they imagine them to be veins of Dragon's blood. This idea is suggested by the word 'vermillion' too, since it comes from the same root as the word 'worm', and a dragon is a 'worm' in many languages. 'Vermillion' means 'the colour of the dragon/worm'. 

The basic idea here is simple and straightforward. Vermillion - dragon's blood - is "lucky" because it signifies the proximity of gold. When a miner encounters cinnabar (dragon's blood) he is in luck, because he knows there is likely to be gold nearby. When he strikes dragon's blood he has struck gold. 

By extension, this colour is associated with gold and with the auric properties of gold in a general sense. Gold here carries its alchemical significance. It is not merely a precious metal valued in terms of wealth; it also signifies spiritual perfection. Accordingly, the Chinese surround themselves with things the colour of 'dragon's blood' because it points to the perfections of gold. Indeed, as we see in the case of the calligraphy illustrated above, we often find the colour gold with 'Chinese red'. Cinnabar/vermillion/dragon's blood goes with gold in Chinese colour symbolism. You can walk into any Chinese temple and see instances of this. 

By understanding these alchemical associations, and by appreciating the inherently alchemical character of the Chinese tradition, we are in a position to appreciate why this particular colour red is so highly regarded by the Chinese. To a large extent, of course, the traditional connections may be forgotten, and so people will merely regard 'Chinese red' as "lucky" in a superstitious way, but the reasons behind the superstition can still be discerned and understood. In effect, the colour signifies gold, as well as all the things that gold itself signifies, especially the spiritual perfection of the 'Golden Race' and such other parallels. It is remarkable that this metallurgic symbolism has persisted and become so pervasive in the Chinese order. Understanding the symbolism of 'Chinese red' is one of the keys to the entire Chinese tradition. 

Yours,

Harper McAlpine Black

Chariots of the Moon

The Moon Chariots of Udupi

The most unique feature of the Hindoo cultus to be found at the sacred town of Udupi on the west coast of the Indian sub-continent are elaborate rites in which cult objects – statues of deities – are placed in massive “chariots” and dragged by devotees around a fixed circuit. The present author was privileged to watch the entire procession from start to finish a few nights ago and has since been pondering the symbolism of the event. 

As always in India there are centuries and even millennia of overlays obscuring the original cultus – Hindooism is especially organic and relinquishes nothing to time – but the essentials of the rites have not changed and can be made out with careful observation and a discerning sense of the symbolic. There are always keys with which even the strangest and most opaque mysteries can be unlocked. Even if those who maintain the rites today have lost sight of their origins, they will usually preserve and guard the essentials – at least in an integral and living tradition such as Hindooism. 

In the case of the rites at Udupi there is a single and somewhat obvious key to what otherwise are peculiar but spectacular events. There are three temples at the site, each of a different age and a different layer of history. It is an ancient site, but it was expanded as recently as the XIIth century when it became one of the foremost centres for the veneration of the avatar Lord Krishna in all the lands of Hindoostan. Each evening – or at least on certain evenings, and certainly at festivals – the image of Lord Krishna, along with an image of Lord Shiva, is removed from its home in the temple and placed in massive four-wheeled wooden constructions which are designated as “chariots”. 

These vehicles are highly decorated, most notably with horse figurines, and function, in fact, as types of temples on wheels. Then they are lit up, blessed and dragged by thick ropes around an elongated pathway. The route is marked by two large guardians, namely men in over-sized costumes with each wielding a sword and a shield, who spin around in circles as they lead the procession. There are starts and stops and fireworks and candles along the way. When the chariots have completed the circumabulation the cult statues are removed and put back into their respective temples in the usual place having gone, it seems, for their nightly jaunt around the track. The photographs on this page illustrate the rites. 

The key? Clearly, the entire event is an enactment of the movement of celestial bodies around the circuit of the heavens. All the details of the rites become explicable in light of this fact. Specifically, one “chariot” – painted gold, as it happens – represents the Sun, and another – balloon-like - represents the Moon. The circuit, which is oriented exactly east-west, represents the ecliptic. The array of torches, fireworks and candles around the pathway represent the background of the stars. The whirling guardians armed with swords and shields represent the nodes that define the limits of the ecliptic. We can be sure of this key since the very name of the town, Udupi, means “Lord of the Stars” and the myths and legends concerning the founding of the site are all cosmological in nature. Moreover, as the present author noted in a previous post, the town is a veritable centre of the astrological sciences; the Hindoo religion takes a particular astrological form here. The entire history of the place has to do with the stars and stellar religion. 

The thing that obscures this key to the symbolism of the Udupi complex is the association of Krishna with the site. Udupi is now known as a centre of devotion to Lord Krishna, and in this sense there is no obvious and direct stellar dimension to that cultus. Indeed, the usual explanation given for the nightly rounds of the chariot is that Krishna was a charioteer, most famously in the Bhagavad Gita. Why is the cult statue of Krishna taken from its temple, placed in a chariot and dragged around its circuit every night? There is a mythological reason: it enacts the scenes of the Gita in which Krishna rides in his chariot. 

But, in fact, this is the most recent layer of symbolism – an overlay on top of the older rites. Before Krishna, the site was sacred to Shiva, and specifically to Shiva as a Moon god. This is plain if one ventures into the sanctuary of the oldest Shiva temple on the site, the Chandramauleshvara Temple. There Shiva is represented, not by the usual lingam, but by an image consisting of a bright round silver face. Chandramauleshvara means, literally, Moon-crowned, or Moon-faced. Shiva, then, was the original passenger in the celestial chariot, the chariot of the Moon. The Krishna cult is a late arrival. Krishna has been added to the temple complex in the XIIth century on the basis of the simple association of chariots. Since this was already a place featuring sacred chariots, the cult of Lord Krishna, the charioteer, found a ready home here. But one needs to look beyond the associations with Krishna to the earlier Shaivite layer of rites in order to understand them correctly. 

Many other strange details of the rites become clear once one applies the key. The whole complex, in fact, its history and its rituals, deserves a thorough study – more thorough and comprehensive than can be offered here. In each of the temples in the complex there are further stellar motifs. The more time one spends there, the more the cosmological character of the cultus becomes clear. 

* * *

As an aside, the structure, purpose and symbolism of the lunar chariots of Udupi invite comparison with the Chariot Trump in the Tarot cards of western esotericism. The resemblance is striking. The present author has long noted that while most occidental literary references to celestial chariots have a solar symbolism - Phaethon's chariot in Greek mythology, for instance - the Chariot Trump of the Tarot is, even in the earliest designs, lunar. The author has had the problem of explaining this lunar chariot symbolism. The problem is resolved in Udupi. Here we have lunar chariots, and they take a form that is strongly reminiscent of the Tarot Trump. 

See the design of the A.E. Waite deck below. Ignoring the pseudo-Egyptian sphinx motif, note the lunar and celestial symbolism throughout. It is exactly this chariot that one encounters in the great temple of Udupi in western India. Most remarkable is the winged (phallic) device in the centre of the card. In the large lunar chariots used in the sacred parades in Udupi, exactly this motif is displayed during the period that the chariot is on the move. Thus, not only is there a general similarity, there is a consonance of details. Note also, if readers care to look closely, how the chariot-riders belt is the celestial ecliptic. The conclusion is inescapable: this Tarot design refers to the very same traditions that are given expression in the rites of Udupi. 

Yours,

Harper McAlpine Black

The Rehabilitation of Buddhism

Boodhism presents a challenge to many systemizations of religion. In many crucial respects it does not conform – or does not seem to conform - to the norms of most other religions. It stands apart. Most obviously, it does not posit a supreme deity as most traditions do and it appears to be indifferent to the metaphysical questions that so occupy other religious systems. Among religions, it is somewhat problematic. This has led certain parties who should know better to make extravagant and often silly statements about it. His Holiness the Dalai Lama, for example, is on record as saying that Boodhism is not a religion at all – which is demonstrable and irksome nonsense but which exploits the fact that Boodhism is different in type to religions in general. Even such an authority as Rene Guenon, the French metaphysician – who, frankly, had a deeper knowledge of these matters than the present Dalai Lama - dismissed it as a “Hindoo heresy” and was reluctant to accord it any serious status as an integral tradition. More generally, for the Perennialist school of thought, guided throughout as it is by the work of Monsieur Guenon, Boodhism remains an uncomfortable fit in its model of orthodoxy which is based upon Platonic/Advaita Vedanta standards.

The present author (whose sympathies are somewhat consonant with the Perennialist school and are certainly Platonic) readily admits that he has had great trouble coming to terms with Boodhism, try as he may. To some measure this is because he has had far too many encounters with the half-baked sentimentalized post-modern pseudo-psychology that is passed off as Boodhism (with much encouragement from the Dalai Lama) in the spiritual wastelands of the West. But even during his many travels in India and Asia, with visits to temples and gompas and conversations with Lamas and Ahats, priests and laymen both, it has never really gelled. The only exception has been the Shin Boodist (Pureland) tradition of Japan, which does make sense to him, but only because it itself deviates from most of the norms of the wider Boodhist fold. He has read books, studied texts, seen movies – but the zest of Boodhism escapes him. Even on his current extended tour of India and Asia, made for the very purpose of becoming more familiar with the Indo-Asian traditions, he takes to Shaivism, Samkya, and other forms of Hindooism without trouble, but his encounters with Boodhism leave him unmoved. 

During his visit to the great Boodhist shrine, the Mahabodhi, at Boodha Gaya in the state of Bihar, however, he was able to witness certain rites that restored Boodhism to the forms of what he calls the alchimie primordiale. As related in previous posts, Boodha Gaya is a small town built around the restored temple that marks the site of the Boodha’s enlightenment. The ancient temple is huge and beautifully reconstructed in modern times, much to the credit of the lenient objectivity of the British Raj. In the rear of the temple court, in the west, stands the Bodhi Tree, the tree under which the Boodha, they say, sat and came to his spiritual realization. Around the temple complex are various sites marking the seven weeks that the Boodha then spent there following his enlightenment, those sites being points of devotion for the thousands of pilgrims who venture there every year. The tree, and under it, the diamond throne, are the very centre of the Boodhist world. It is believed that all Boodhas at all times were enlightened on that exact spot, and that, moreover, that spot was the first point of creation and will be the last point remaining at the end of time. 

The sacred place at which Boodhists press their forehead. Behind it the Bodhi Tree. 

This, in itself, rehabilitates Boodhism to some extent. Many authorities – and conspicuously the Dalai Lama – would have us believe that Boodhism is a system without a cosmology and without a fixed centre. For those of us accustomed to the Platonic/Advaita Vedanta model this supposed formlessness is both irritating and incomprehensible. A religion with no centre? No god? No creation? No start or finish? The Boodhist is urged to not fix upon a centre but to drift like a rudderless dinghy in an endless sea of vague nothing. How is that, one wants to know, a spirituality? 

But one discovers at Boodha Gaya that that is not really the case. Boodhism does have a centre. And a cosmology. And a point of start and finish. This was not explicit and concrete in the many centuries during which the Boodha Gaya temple complex was lost and forgotten in the forests of Bihar, but it is made clear again today. This author spent many hours over many days sitting in the shade of the Bodhi Tree watching the pilgrims come and go. Contrary to the psycho-babbling shapeless mush, the spiritual custard, served up by wide-eyed Boodhist Modernists in the West, and the evasive double-talk one often hears from Boodhists in the East, the very concrete religious mechanisms of Boodhism are perfectly apparent at Boodha Gaya, and they are pretty much identical to those of any other religion.

Some years ago the present author, in his academic guise, published an article on the symbolism of Islamic prayer. The prayer, he related, is a centering exercise that brings the devotee back to the spiritual centre that is, at once, the earth and the deepest reality of his or her inner state. This state, he argued, is Adamic, and he sketched the ways in which the prayer expresses the alchemical theme of autochthony. The full text of the article can be found here. In practice, the devotee – taking the place of Adam, formed of clay - stands in the Edenic sacred space marked by the prayer mat, the prayer mat traditionally decorated with a stylization of the Tree of Life, and proceeds to press his forehead to the point of sajda – annihilation – on the earth, the point where full submission transmutes the clay of his creation to the gold of spiritual fulfillment (the extreme malleability of gold being the operative metaphor for submission to the Divine Will.) Moreover, in a related article, the present author has added to this some observations concerning other peculiarities of the Islamic prayer ritual, specifically the way in which devotees arrange their feet in order to place pressure upon the liver, that organ having an important (but long forgotten) place in spiritual alchemy.

The Boodhist rites at Boodha Gaya conform to these practices exactly. The symbolism is the same. The author sat there watching these rites and suddenly recognized the ways in which the Boodhist spiritual economy is precisely consonant with that of Islam as he had sketched it on those articles. 

Pressing the forebead to the frame behind which is the Bodhi Tree. The frame and the surrounding walls are coated in a gold film. 

Boodhism, that is, is no different. There is, of course, a different arrangement of symbols, but the symbols themselves are the same, operate in the same way, and towards the same end. The state of fana – annihilation, submission – that is the objective of the Muslim prayer is exactly the same as this “Void” or “Nothingness” with which Boodhist double-speak so often confounds us. And what is the Bodhi Tree but the Tree of Life? And what is Boodha Gaya – the first and last – but Eden? What is it but the qibla of the Muslim, with the profound emptiness of the Kaaba in Mecca a symbol of that same Boodhist Void and Nothingess? 

But whereas the Muslim observes the prayer in the canonical manner at the appointed times each day, the Boodhist observes exactly the same in his pilgrimage to the Bodhi Tree, for there one can witness Boodhists in Islam-like prostration, turning to the Diamond Throne, falling to their knees and pressing their forehead to the earth in the gesture of sajda. Indeed, many of them adopt the same peculiar feet arrangement that is common in Islam and about which this author has written previously. 

Prostration towards the Bodhi Tree, along with the distinctive Muslim-like arrangement of the feet. 

It is a remarkable coincidence of practices and symbolisms. More than that, as the long procession of Boodhist devotees files past the place of the Throne under the Tree (the Tree in the Midst – to stress it again, precisely the same symbolism as the Tree in Eden) they turn and press their foreheads to a particular point on the fence that surrounds the sacred place. This point is framed by a rectangle that is much the same size as an Islamic prayer rug and which itself frames the sacred Tree behind it – so here we have an exact visual duplicate of the prayer rug with the Edenic Tree and that point, that centre, where the inner and outer worlds meet. 

Even more startling, the alchemical symbolism of that configuration of symbols is perfectly explicit because the surrounding fence, including the point where the Boodhist presses his forehead, has been painted with a film of pure gold paint. When he presses his forehead to the designated point the gold paint – peeling from the wear of years and the constant touching of the devoted – flakes off leaving a spot of pure gold on his forehead over his ‘third eye’. Devotees walk away from their devotions with a mark of gold on them – the Adamic gold of the autochthon on their forehead. In other words, these Boodhist rites exactly conform to those alchemical aspects of the Islamic rites – and so are united therein – that the present author explicated in his writings years ago. 

Needless to say, for someone looking for a solid foothold in the formless and featureless path of Boodhism, this came as a very welcome revelation. Boodhism is not so different after all. The view that it is different can largely be attributed to the intensely annoying habit of Boodhists to obfuscate and insist on exceptionalism. There are numerous commentators of a 'Perennialist' flavor, and other students of that disreputable shibboleth called 'comparative religion', who have attempted to explain how Boodhism 'approximates' other traditions. These efforts, usually highly theoretical, are not very helpful either. Instead, one needs to witness the living practices - read fewer books and see with eyes that can see what is plain to see. Boodhism isn't a centreless swamp of vapid nothingness after all. In its central rites, restored in Boodha Gaya just over a century ago, Boodhism is very obviously just another expression, a different configuration, of the alchimie primordiale, whatever Boodhist themselves might say.

Yours,

Harper McAlpine Black