China
October of 2007 There was reason to believe that the entire East Asian coast region, from Singapore in the south to somewhere north of Beijing, was covered by the sheng canopy . In the south this region extended west to the Indian Ocean, covering all of Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Thailand, peninsular Malaysia, and Burma. To extend the sheng canopy in Asia, it seemed logical to begin in southwestern China, north of Thailand, and to work north through western China.
The cheapest flights to China were via Hong Kong, so Cesco and I flew there, meeting on October 11. We slept that night in the home of my friend See-Hoi, and
next morning we took the bus over the border into Shenzhen.
When I first visited China in 1983, Shenzhen was a fishing town of some 30,000 population. That was about the beginning time of the great Chinese economic liberalization, and Shenzhen was selected as an experimental town: to test what would develop if a free economy were permitted in China. Now Shenzhen has 6.5 million people, and an airport that services all the major cities of China.
We boarded a flight there, to the capital Kunming of Yunnan Province. The sheng canopy endured overhead throughout the entire flight, which meant we would have to travel further north to begin our vortex opening work.
There was however a location in the west of Yunnan , which I wanted to visit first. I had learned of it on the web, several days before leaving America. This was Jizu Shan, or Chicken Foot Mountain. It is revered as one of the holy places of Buddhism, and I had looked carefully at some of the photographs of the mountain posted on the internet. In one of them could be seen an entity in need of help, and my heart told me that I should go there. And so, upon landing in Kunming, we took a bus to Dali, the nearest city of any size to Jizu Shan.
In the morning, we boarded a local bus to Binchuan, a town more or less at the foot of the mountain. From there, a road runs about two thirds of the way up, just past the Zhusheng monastery. Looking for transportation thither, we met two pilgrim nuns with the same
destination, and we decided to hire a small van together for 60 yuan (about 8 dollars). It was understood that, for this price, there would be no other passengers. About half way up, the driver pulled off to the side of the road to pick up another rider. Our incensed nuns however, told him in no uncertain terms, that this he could not do. After feeble argument, cowed, he drove us on up to the monastery.
On the drive up, one of the nuns, who was from Singapore and spoke excellent English, told us of the the ancient legend of the mountain: that one of Sakyamuni Buddha’s students named Jiaye, had come to the mountain from India, in the old days; that he had meditated in solitude there many years, waiting for the next Buddha to come, that he might render service in those coming days; that the mountain took compassion on Jiaye and opened up to
let him enter and pass the intervening years safe inside itself; and that the pious Jiaye meditates yet in the heart of Jizu Shan.
Arriving at Zhusheng, we entered the gates of this monastery, passing first through an introductory temple, and then the principal temple of the place. In both places resided quite worthy sheng beings, and Cesco and I paid them due respect.
A monk there was impressed by our seriousness, and invited us to stay the night, and to partake of the vegetarian food of the place. We accepted, paying a small fee for the accommodation. Cesco told me later that he considered the food there the best he had in China.
We had still a good part of the afternoon at our disposal,
and so went out into the surrounding woods, looking for the distressed entity I had seen in the photo. We found it on a hill in the forest, not too far from the monastery. After burying six TBs to change an offending sha line to a sheng line , we both worked to heal the entity, and seemed to have some success.
Later, after we had returned to the monastery, the monk who had invited us to stay for the night told us something of a famous Boddhisatva named Xu Yun who had sojourned at the monastery many years earlier. Xu Yun was born in 1830, had begun serious self-cultivation at the age of 15, and had reached enlightenment at the age of 55. From this time on, he had devoted himself to teaching, founding new temples, and generally helping
those intent on following the Buddha’s Path. At age 65, he was granted an audience by the terrible empress Zi Xi, who was so impressed by him, that he was granted means from the imperial treasury to carry on his work. He lived to see her death, the end of the Ching Dynasty shortly thereafter, the years of the warlords, the war with Japan, and the final victory of the Communists, only dying at age 120, in 1950. There is a room in the temple devoted to his memory, and a pagoda in the back of the monastery housing a shi li zi taken from his remains. A shi li zi is a relic taken from a holy man or woman’s cremation ashes, and it often contains something of the deceased’s spirit. It was so in this case, and the qi of the spirit seemed to be identical with the qi in photographs of Xu Yun, which hang in the
temple.
In the morning we set out with the nuns, up the path to the summit. It was cloudy, drizzling at times, and a bit uncomfortable for the nuns dressed in the thin brown robes of their order. At the summit we found a rather large flat area, upon which was built three major structures.
The smallest, but most impressive one, was dedicated to the Boddhisatva Guan Yin. 
Guan Yin, the Boddhisatva of compassion, is perhaps the most popular of all China. The qi that rises out of the ground into that temple is unique. It was evident from a hundred miles away, and when on the mountain in the neighborhood of the temple, its brilliance was comparable to that of the sun. When you open your mind to feel it, any more than
a very slight degree, there is an immediate blinding effect. Cesco was much taken with the place, and entered it to pay his respects to the deity within, remaining there for quite some time.
And yet, there was yet a blemish in the feeling of this temple. While Cesco remained inside, I walked back a short way from the building, seeking a more objective view. Then I became aware that there was a line of sha qi passing through the ground under the temple, that contributed a minor sickly addition to the qi of the place.
The second building was the famous Lengyan Pagoda, 
and the third a large hall, housing three huge Buddha statues. The strength of the qi , however,
of these statues, was not commensurate with their size. Moreover, there was some pain observable in the faces of the two flanking Buddhas. So I prayed before the one in the center, and asked if there was anything I could do to help. The only response was for me to remove some of the qi from my dan tian (the qi center below the navel), and send it into the statue. I asked if I should not try to help the Buddhas on the sides: but no.
Cesco was now back, and it was nearly noon. The monks living on the summit invited our two nun friends out of the rain into their dining hall for lunch, and our friends managed to extend the invitation to Cesco and myself as well. The monks and nuns eat but twice a day, the second and final meal coming at noon. It was our observation
that they took that meal seriously, and did not stint on their portions. We finished a bit sooner than the rest, and, when the monks brought some warmer clothing for the nuns to change into, we left the dining hall. Outside we found few others present, and so it was a good opportunity to find a secluded place on that sha line which passed under the golden temple. We found what we were seeking in a little grove of trees, and Cesco played sentry while I buried the 6 TBs . It had an immediate effect on the qi of the temple, which now seemed to partake of no negative admixture.
When the nuns came back from lunch, they entered the hall of the three Buddhas, and we decided to go in again. After standing there a minute or so, I suddenly felt
a call to hurry to the back behind the great statues. Arriving there, I found a smaller image: this again of Guan Yin. I knelt down to show due respect, and I could feel some sort of communication passing between the spirit of the statue and my own. I rose quickly, hastening to the great Buddha on the right. I could feel something inside myself directing my motions to treat the ailment of that Buddha, after which I hurried to the Buddha on the other side, where transpired a similar remedy. Thence it was back to the Guan Yin idol once more, to pay respect.
We left the great hall, and it was time to head back down the mountain. The rain was light but steady now, and we all put up the umbrellas which we had borrowed early in the morning, when we had set out from Zhusheng. Part way down, we came to the face of the mountain which was said to
have opened up to accommodate Jiaye. There were a number of Buddhist pilgrims setting up camp there in the rain, planning to remain several days to conduct certain ceremonies. We paused long enough to try to get a sense of the place, and it did seem that there was something inside the mountain. But what it was, I cannot be sure.
We stayed the night at Zhusheng Monastery again, and in the morning, returned with the nuns via bus to Kunming. It was still afternoon when we reached the city, so we bought tickets for an evening flight, north to Chengdu in Sichuan Province, hoping to get started on our real job in China.
But landing in Chengdu, we were still under the sheng canopy . The only other place I had set my intention on seeing during the trip, was Emei Shan or Highbrow Mountain. I had heard of it from many people, both as being spectacularly beautiful, and as being a place of considerable power. It lays west of Chengdu, and we took the advice of a young lady scouting for a taxi company, to go on to Emei City that night. Cesco was not enthusiastic about taking her advice, but I was suffering from mild food poisoning, and didn’t feel like shopping around. So we went ahead with it and arrived at Emei around 2AM, with no hotels open, excepting some with no vacancies. Our driver banged on several doors, and eventually found a place for us to stay the night.
We slept in
a bit the next morning, and took a bus up the mountain. In better circumstances I would have preferred to hike up the mountain, for there are said to be many interesting places on the ascent. But I was feeling bad about not having opened any latent vortices yet on the trip, and so elected to go up the fast way. The bus terminus coincided with the terminus of a gondola line, and we rode a gondola car the rest of the way to the top. On the summit stand various stately structures, notably a huge outside Buddha statue, and an impressive temple.
The statue had a sha line running through it, and there was a strong latent vortex nearby. Taking care of these was somewhat more of a challenge
than was our work on Jizu Shan shan. For Emei Shan is much more of a tourist center. There were people wandering nearly everywhere on the summit, soldiers ostentatiously marching about to overawe any potential evil doers, plain clothes caretakers skulking about, and electronic eyes prominently displayed. Fortunately, one place on the bad line was left unattended just long enough for application of the 6 TB cure, and several of the critical points were close enough to some protective foliage, that we were able to open the place up. Transmuting the qi of the line had 
an immediate positive effect on the Buddhist statue, and, within a few minutes after the latent vortex
was opened, a strong and brilliant concentration of sheng qi appeared over the statue. 
Cesco mentioned hearing the sheng qi , as it formed. Here is a satisfied monkey we met ont the way down: 
We were weary when we arrived down from the mountain, and decided to spend another night in Emei City, rather than go back immediately to Chengdu. Somewhat refreshed the next morning, we took the bus back, and discussed our next move. We were still under the sheng canopy and, having opened a rather strong latent vortex on Emei Shan, we surmised that the sheng
canopy would likely have extended itself somewhat. So we decided to fly all the way to Urumqi in Xinjiang Province, on the old Silk Road. This was far to the northwest in China, but we felt that we could work back east and south, gifting in stages, until we reached the boundary of the canopy.
So we boarded a plane in Chendu for Urumqi. The weather thitherto had been overcast with intermittent rain, but now it turned sunny and beautiful.
Most of our flight was in daylight, and so I was able to observe the sky from my window seat. We never came out from beneath sheng canopy , nor did I see an end to it anywhere! So it appeared that we would not be staying long in Xinjiang.
Xianjiang has a large non ethnic Chinese population. Most of these are called Uighurs, and are muslim in religion. The Chinese Government fears separatist sentiment, and rules for foreign visitors are more strict there than elsewhere in China. There were only certain hotels where non citizens could stay, and so we had to pay
a bit more for our room than elsewhere. The next morning we found an internet bar several blocks from our hotel, and I went in to check my email. While sitting at the computer, a young woman came up and struck up a conversation. She was a teacher, wanted to practice her English, and invited Cesco and I to visit her home for lunch. She offered us bona fide Xinjiang noodles and mutton. We had to turn down the mutton due to our diet, but the noodles and vegetables were good, as were the apples she gave us from her family’s orchard.
After lunch she guided us to some points of interest in the city. One was the famous Red Hill, on which sits a Buddhist temple and an old pagoda. 
We were not able to obtain much information about the latter, other than it had been there for a very long time.
It did not feel good at all, due to a sha line through it. Fortunately, the line passed behind some bushes on the side of the hill, and we were able to fix it. The pagoda had been negative for some time. There was a photograph in a building nearby showing the area as it had been back in the 30’s, and the pagoda was in it, looking just as old as it does now. Presently the hill is covered with trees and plants, due to China’s great tree planting program of some years ago: in the photograph the hill was utterly barren. Here is an Urumqi butterfly: 
In the evening we took the girl Maria to dinner, and were joined by her boy friend, a traditional Chinese doctor. Walking back to our room from the restaurant, he noticed that I was walking irregularly and
asked me about it. I told him about my bad back, and though he had already worked 9 hours that day, he offered to give me a message. He was quite skillful, and gave me relief which lasted for many days.
Now, however, we had to plan our next move. I knew, that with high probability, the sheng canopy covered all of China except perhaps Tibet and Manchuria. It was probably a bit late in the season to go to Tibet, and going there requires a special permit, so we opted for Manchuria. Maria called a contact in Urumqi and purchased tickets for us, to Harbin in the northeast province of Heilongjiang (River of the Black Dragon). From Urumqi to Harbin is a long trip, and we had a short lay over in Beijing. Though we left Urumqi in the morning, it was dark when we arrived
in Harbin. Some distance south of Harbin, at last, we flew out from beneath the canopy. Harbin was a little rougher, and the people less used to foreigners, than other places we visited in China. Stepping out of a shop our first night there, having purchased a bottle of drinking water, someone brushed by me. As I turned to see what it had been, I was hit harder by a cop making a flying leap to tackle a young man. And then a second policeman appeared out of nowhere to sit on the tackled fellow’s head. We had no idea what the provocation had been, but we were glad we were not the man on the bottom of the pile. A few minutes later we went into a small cafe on a side street to get a late meal. The owner was quite amiable, asking all sorts of questions about where we came from, but the owner’s boys and others in the place stared at us as if we were from another planet.
Next morning, after purchasing a typical northern Chinese breakfast of shao bing and you tiao, I bought a map of the province, dug out my pocket compass, and took bearings on the strongest latent vortex I could feel. It was to the north, and I located a good sized town (on the bus route) in that direction on the map. We bought tickets, and after a several hour bus ride, got off at the town. Taking bearings again, I found the latent vortex to the north and east. Referring to the map, I found a small town in that direction, the characters of whose name I recognized and could pronounce. We found a taxi driver who was willing to give us his (and his car’s) afternoon for about 160 yuan (about 20 dollars), I told him the name of the town, and
we started off.
I could tell from his look that he had not seen many foreigners before, and probably none who had wanted to go where we indicated; but he drove off in the direction we wanted. There were stretches of rough and bumpy road, but as long as we stayed on the county roads, the ride was not bad. However, before we came in sight of our designated destination, I saw the latent vortex: a grove of trees on a small hill off near the skyline. I got the driver’s attention, pointed to the trees, and told him we wanted to go there. At this point I think he was thoroughly confused, but he obediently turned off the county road into a dirt road through the fields.
Several times he stopped, asking directions of farmers working in the
fields, as the condition of the road grew steadily worse and more narrow. Finally, after almost high centering, he brought the car to a stop, and walked off about a 100 yards to a farmer working in a neighboring field. When he returned, he was glowering, and he wanted to know if we wanted to go to the small town I originally had named, or not. I told him we had changed our minds, and needed only to go to the grove of trees off over the fields, 
and after that, we could go back to his home city. This mollified him a little, and he started out again down the road. A short distance later we came upon another vehicle headed in our direction, and our driver simply pulled in behind it, and followed. This road was be no means smooth, but at least not dangerous to the car, and we eventually pulled in to a small village near the grove
of trees. We did not want the driver to go with us, so Cesco stayed in the car with the driver while I with my backpack of TBs took off through the fields. The driver had never had raisins before, and Cesco had a sack of them (imported from sunny California), which he fed to the driver as I navigated my way to the vortex. Fortunately there were a couple of critical points which were not in the fields (and subject to disturbance by subsequent tilling thereof), and I was able to bury TBs in them without being observed. Back in the car, Cesco told me that he could hear the sheng qi rise up out of the ground as this vortex was opened. Just after the opening: 
Now the driver had raisins
in his stomach and an open road for home, so we were all in good spirits. As usually is the case with vortex hunting, the road back is shorter and easier than the road to, and we arrived at the driver’s home city before dark. Unfortunately, it was after 4PM, and at 4PM the last bus for the day back to Harbin had already left. By now the driver’s original suspicion had mutated into a sort of affection. He asked me questions about the US, of which he had very little knowledge, and I asked him about his neighborhood, of which I had even less. He mentioned that he would love to be paid in US money, which he had not seen before. I had a $20 bill in my wallet, and offered it to him, but after some thought, he decided that he could not afford so expensive a curio, and so I paid him in yuan instead. But I also had a $1 bill with George Washington on the back, and added it as lagniappe.
He was delighted, and by now felt a sort of responsibility for our welfare. He drove down the main highway south in the direction of Harbin till he overtook a bus, and rapidly turned his headlights off and on until the bus driver pulled off onto the roadside. Then he gestured us to get onto the bus, while he haggled with the bus driver on price. Before we found seats however, he motioned for us to get off again, which we did, and watched the bus go on down the road without us. He said that the bus people wanted 60 yuan apiece to take us to Harbin, and that that was twice what the price should be. But now it was dark, and we would gladly have paid the 60 yuan (about 7.5 dollars) apiece for a several hour bus trip, especially since there were no more scheduled buses that day. But our taxi driver had a different perspective, since his daily wages were only about 40 yuan.
So he drove to a nearby fuel station, and commenced to ask the automobile drivers who were stopping there for refueling, if any of them would take us to Harbin for 30 yuan. No luck. Finally he told us he might have to take us to the train station where we would have to pay a higher price, and he looked nervous and apologetic. Then suddenly a bus pulled in at the other end of the fuel station. His face lit up and he jammed his foot onto the gas pedal. Unfortunately it was now totally dark, and he had not noticed a large piece of concrete on the parking lot ahead of us. "Wham" went my head into the roof. And "wham" went the floor boards of the taxi onto the concrete obstruction. Cesco told me he smelt exhaust fumes in the car afterwards, and I sincerely hope he did not damage the car much. He apologized while continuing across the lot to the bus. Here
we got on, and got tickets for less than 60 yuan. Just before the the bus pulled out I heard someone banging on the side of the bus below our seat window. I looked out into the dark, and saw our driver’s beaming face looking up on us waving. We waved back, also smiling. 
Several hours later we were back at our hotel, eating dinner and discussing that by morning, very likely all of China (except perhaps Tibet, if Tibet is considered part of China) would be under the sheng canopy . The job we set out to do here was finished, and though there was still time allotted on our schedule, we decided to return to Hong Kong next day and assume separate ways: Cesco back to Iceland, and myself to Taiwan to visit old friends. So we took a flight back the next day
to Shenzhen, via Changsha, thence by bus to Hong Kong airport to arrange early passage away from China.
Cesco made it back without special incident, and while I had some adventures in Taiwan, they are probably better left untold here. On October 31, I took plane from Hong Kong to Tokyo (Narita), and then on to Seattle.
Three weeks earlier flying over, the northern half of Japan had not been under the sheng canopy . Now it was, which fact I attributed to our opening the latent vortex in Manchuria. The sheng canopy did not continue overhead all the way back to Seattle, and it seems that a trip to Alaska, and perhaps Siberia, sometime in the future, may still be
required.
One thing seems to have been affirmed by our trip, which phenomenon had already been indicated by earlier trips in this year 2007. This was the fact that it is becoming easier to spread the canopy. Whereas two years ago one had to open a latent vortex every 70 kilometers or so, now the the distance had increased to hundreds of kilometers. My guess (though it is only a guess) is that somehow the condition of that part of the sky which is not yet covered by the canopy has changed somewhat, so that it changes subject to slighter contact with sheng qi than before.
A photo for "good night"(in Sino-German-English dialect), taken by Cesco in a hotel in Urumqi: 