Listening to the Pure Land's Tibetan Chants, Life Blooms Like a Lotus Flower
This time, I'm not a tourist coming to pay respects.
I am a shadow fleeing from the city, a fugitive from smartphones, computers, skyscrapers, and the chaotic bustle of urban life. No one knows who I am, and no one will notice my attire. Escaping the tangled web of gazes, abandoning the affairs of the world, my soul is like a bird hidden among the mountains and rivers.
Emei Mountain in February, shrouded in mist and snow. He probably understands me too, concealing his majestic form and burying his footprints in the falling snow… preserving the clamor in the wilds and enjoying this vast tranquility.
The icy, slippery mountain path, treacherous step by step, shrinks the few remaining tourist figures.
I'm not a tourist. I'm not here to witness the magnificent sunrise at the Golden Summit. I won't stop out of frustration due to the mist and snow.
I'm simply cautiously searching for myself, searching for the dream floating atop the mountain peak.
Thank you for this serendipitous snowfall, which buries my confusion and disorder, allowing my numb mind and body to tremble once again in the bone-chilling cold, regaining awareness,
Perhaps, I've forgotten myself too long…
Hurry-scurry days, bewildered glances, flash by like lightning, mercilessly exposing the emptiness within. Heart repeatedly struck with fragility,
But now, this solitary climb brings me such satisfaction and happiness. Because with every step upward, I am closer to purity, closer to tranquility, closer to myself…
Closer to the pulse and heartbeat of the mountains.
The bells of Huayang Temple ring through the clouds and mist, echoing in the mountains.
Listening to the sacred chants of this pure land, life blooms like a lotus flower,
The peak turns and turns, always at the extreme nodes,
When I left Emei Mountain, I saw fields of rapeseed flowers outside, painting the earth with streaks of gold.
