Brown robes flying, a barefoot boy gallops across the wooden floor of the monastery.
Later, he will stand solemnly in Buddha Hall. He will thump a drum or tap a tinkling bell. His hands clasped in contemplative prayer, he will chant as he circles the hall before filing into the adjacent dining room.During lunch, he will recite Buddhist scripture from memory, squeezing his eyes shut, willing the Chinese words to flow softly from his lips.
He's a novice monk, a pure boy, who flies across the floor with pure joy.
The boy who is named Kuo is one of 19 novice monks ranging in age from 10 to 20 from the United States, Asia and Europe who live in the Buddhist monastery on Ocean Boulevard and Redondo Avenue in Long Beach. Once the cloister of Carmelite nuns, the sanctuary now houses the Novice Buddhist Academy, the first of its kind in the United States.
"It appeals to young boys because it's nonviolent," says the Rev. Heng Chang, who directs the academy. "What draws them primarily is the peacefulness and kindness a monk's life has."
A 36-year-old refugee from Vietnam, Chang is also a monk who welcomes outsiders into his home. He wants them to understand a monk's life. He wants them to learn about Buddhism. He wants them to know that politics have no place in this monastery.
With donations from followers throughout the United States, the Dharma Realm Buddhist Association bought the sand-colored convent for about $3 million seven years ago for its size and location. The novices, six senior monks and three laymen live comfortably, if spartanly, in 35 rooms. Across the street is the infinite sea.
"Philosophically, it fits into our vision: to open our minds infinitely," Chang says.
Sipping tea, sitting in front of a yellow stained-glass window emblazoned by the sun, Chang talks about the three aims of the monastery.
The first goal is to build a community of monks, nuns and lay people who devote themselves to the practice of five Buddhist precepts: no killing, no stealing, no sexual misconduct (such as adultery), no lying and no taking of toxic substances, including alcohol, cigarettes and drugs.
The second goal is to translate Buddhist scripture into English.
The third goal is to train young people.
The young monks come from throughout the United States as well as France, Indonesia, Malaysia and Taiwan. Even the youngest ones come on their own.
"If their parents send them here, we don't take them," Chang says. "They have to come with their own heart."
To ensure they're suited for a monk's life, the boys undergo a trial observation period lasting from a month to a year. Even so, it's quite a commitment for children to make, a decision they can't always explain themselves.
Four years ago, 10-year-old Kuo Ching accompanied his mother from Taiwan to the City of 10,000 Buddhas near Ukiah in Northern California. From there, he came to Long Beach.
"I told my mother I wanted to leave home," he says. "She say, `It's very hard.' "
Ching can't explain why he wanted to leave home to become a novice monk. Each time he's asked, he smiles engagingly and says, "I don't know."
Was it simply a feeling? He smiles and nods.
Twelve-year-old Kuo Ding of Malaysia knows why he entered the monastery when he was 9.
"I wanted to cultivate," he says firmly.
Monks cultivate their lives, refining and improving their character, devoting themselves to an ethical and spiritual path. The boys are given the first name of Kuo, which stands for fruit, or youth. Last names represent virtues, attributes the young monks can achieve when they reach fruition.
"It's easier to be a cultivator if you're a monk," says Kuo Lin, 20, of Taiwan. "There are too many temptations in the outside world."
Even on the inside, it's sometimes difficult to change your character, says Kuo Jung, 19, also of Taiwan.
"Anger, temper is hard to get rid of," he says.
But he's made progress.
"Now when it comes, I can see it and calm down," he says.
Celibacy, which all monks practice, may also be difficult for young men.
"People are people. You have your emotions," says Lin. "We uphold the precepts. We control our body. We understand why we should keep ourselves pure. Our reasonable mind overcomes our emotions."
Since entering the monastery four years ago, Lin says he has learned to apply Buddhist scripture to his daily life.
"I feel like I am maturing," he says, "and I can see I'm able to control my thoughts better, control my destiny."
Training may end at the age of 20. At that time, a monk can go to another temple or remain a teacher in the Long Beach monastery.
Life is regimented inside the monastery, where the boys rise at 5 a.m. and attend classes until 9 p.m. But it's a life that kindles knowledge.
"They're very bright kids, really way above average in intellect, stamina and morality," says Ngo Viet, a Cal State Long Beach math professor who teaches geometry at the monastery. "Because their mind is clear, they absorb what's presented to them."
Teachers at the monastery have credentials, and students earn the equivalent of a high school diploma. Although classes are conducted in English, the boys also learn Chinese. The maximum class size is five.
Like many of the instructors, Viet volunteers to teach the boys.
"They have such pure hearts, it's just a blessing to be around them," he says. "We don't care about money. We like seeing the growth of these minds, the potential."
In fact, Viet is so impressed with the boys and their lifestyle, he has taken a sabbatical from CSULB and moved into the monastery.
"I find this kind of life appealing," says the 40-year-old divorced father. "It's very quiet, tranquil. This environment enriches my mind and my work."
It is tranquil inside the monastery, which is perfumed by incense. In the main hall, sunbeams drift down through a skylight, illuminating a glittering gold Buddha that presides over a vast altar. Outside traffic is a soothing hum.
Each meal is part of a ceremony. As they chant, monks contemplate the origin of their food, from seed to harvest to alms bowl. They are vegetarians. "It's a compassionate food," Chang explains.
The boys occasionally leave the monastery to buy shoes or go on picnics and camping trips. But not often.
"They themselves are content to be here," says Chang. "To go out is confusing."