On a day as special as the first day of the first new moon in the year 丙午: bǐng wǔ: yáng fire horse (February 17, 2026) the sky above the Temple of the eternal spring had awakened, the sunlight little by little painted the curved tiles of the temple with gold as if it were pure honey.
The clock struck nine o´clock when, dressed in their ceremonial robes, the temple director, 邱荣道监员 qiū róng dào jiān yuán: Patrick Louchouarn, along with the musicians and monks, set out to find the temple abbot, 邱景威方丈 qiū jǐng wēi fāng zhàng: Hervé Louchouarn, and invite him to preside over the ceremony; this is how this story began.
The procession was like a meandering river, the chants rising, firstly in a timid way, then with confidence, carried by ancient instruments that seemed to awaken the stones of the gardens. The 高功 gāo gōng: temple’s ritual masters, with their measured steps and billowing robes, set the rhythm, and together with their disciples, they prostrated themselves in the main square under the mid-morning light that was already beginning to warm the air. The gesture signified something bigger than oneself.
Upon entering the temple, the outside world faded away. The incense burning already filled the air, its smoke tracing secret paths to the heavens. Then came the chants to the Big Dipper. Accompanied by music, each note, each syllable, helped elevate the prayers. In that instant, the temple transformed into a beating heart, its intention and sincerity touching the deepest fibers of our beings.
When the chanting ceased, the silence was brief but profound. Then, hands were raised to hoist 幡 fān: sacred banners, full of symbolism, moving with the wind as if they had a life of their own; as they waved, they seemed to whisper secrets, messages that only the heavens could decipher.
The ceremony held a moment of special intimacy: 开光 kāi guāng: opening of the light; a ceremony to consecrate and vivify the altars. 邱景威方丈 qiū jǐng wēi fāng zhàng: Hervé Louchouarn, with brushes, mirrors, and pins, touched each image; more than a gesture, it was an awakening. Suddenly, those inert figures were no longer just that; their eyes, once empty, seemed to gaze at us. That golden light of a spring morning gave each image a heartbeat, and with it, the promise of companionship and protection for those who venerate them with a sincere heart.
We finished the ceremony by filling the sky with incense smoke, the smoke of the prayers of everyone who joined us to welcome this new year, as a new opportunity to grow in awareness, with tranquility, joy, and love. The incense sticks burned slowly, carrying our message to the celestial masters; the sacred banners waved on their staffs; the believers were in awe by the general serenity; all the gestures of this ancient culture were repeated in a magical atmosphere.
Finally, the sun was at its zenith. Nine in the morning had turned into almost noon without anyone noticing. The new moon, its eclipse over, invisible yet present, continued its course across the bright sky, awaiting its moment. The year 丙午: bǐng wǔ: yáng fire horse had just begun; subtly, the participants had witnessed its first heartbeat. The air smelled of incense and spring; the spirit, of renewed hope.