Just before six o’clock tonight I decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. The sun had just set and the streetlights were coming on around me, one by one. I wandered to the grounds of the Buddhist temple nearest our home and noticed the temple bell, which looked quite impressive against the twilight sky, and so I took a photograph. Just as I was leaving, the priest emerged from the residence and saw me. He invited me to ring the bell for the daily six o’clock ritual, which we can hear every night from our home: six slow rings of the temple bell, a sound that we and our neighbors find very comforting. I hadn’t planned to be present for this evening’s ritual, let alone participate, and thus I was quite surprised. I gladly accepted.
I ascended the short set of wooden stairs, took the thick rope in my hands, and looked to the priest for instructions. He nodded his head, signaling me to begin. Each time I rang the bell I waited for his next signal to ring the bell again, while a cool breeze touched my skin and the sound of the bell faded beneath the chirping of crickets. Only when the ringing had faded to near silence — which took nearly a minute — did the priest nod his head again, and again I rang the bell. After the sixth ring had faded completely, the priest nodded a final time, and I bowed to the bell and descended the stairs. Facing the priest, I bowed and thanked him, and he returned the bow. We wished one another good night, and parted.
That was a very good walk.