Miai

Light and shadow: Where there is light, there must be shadow. No matter how separated or contradictory they are, they will always be together. Light and heat: I once thought it was an inevitable connection, until the day it slowly cooled down. The story does not begin in Lhasa. The end of the story is not in Lhasa either. But the recording of this story started in Lhasa. There were a few lamas who piled sand into a pagoda. They paint with sand, meticulously and reverently. The fine sand slowly gathers into the world, and prosperity appears. I marveled at the richness of the colors. I marveled at the layers and thickness of the sand. Whether it's the Buddha sitting in the middle, the creatures with different expressions surrounding the Buddha, or the inexplicable colors surrounding the world that I can't name, they all possess a unique and unique look. During the two days when this grandeur and splendor made me stop, I could hardly bear to leave. The moment the entire work is completed. The monks tore down the work they had worked hard on for two days and nights. Time seemed to have stopped, and the two days were condensed into a moment of decadence. The fine sand slowly flowing in the hands of the monk no longer has the stunning appearance, those Buddhas flying in the sky, those thriving lives, those magnificent temples, and those various prosperity. Everything passes with the wind, settles, fades, and never returns. Extreme prosperity is just a handful of fine sand; its origin and origin are destroyed, and it will eventually be annihilated into ashes. I heard the golden tube spinning, and it seemed like someone was asking, are you enlightened?