Motuo does not belong to the world of modern people, and its secluded mystery attracts people who are tired of city life, and the touting of well-known families gives the outside world too much expectation.

Although there is not much thought, SC Johnson is not immune to the influence, looking forward to what he will get from the moment he enters Metuo, whether it is liberation, or enlightenment, or something, but this is not the case at all.

When everyone walked the last section of the five-kilometer uphill and saw the county town on the mountainside, their hearts were full of disappointment: this is a small county town that is no different from the mainland, full of construction sites, the dust that exists in all impetuous small towns floating on the streets, the roar of the machine broke this quiet landscape, and for a moment, I thought I had come to the wrong place!

In fact, Motuo is neither heaven nor hell, there is nothing but it is desirable, it is just a journey that is far from being as difficult as imagined. "The word Motuo is nothing but the soul that longs for the distance under our tired body, and all imagination is because we have expectations.

So, we're always on the road, even if there's no end to it??????

Coming to Nyingchi, the peach blossom feast every spring attracts the attention of countless people, such as today's high clouds, and the gradual autumn mood is matched by the overwhelming pink, but the colorful colors like oil paintings.

From the bottom of the valley to the top of the mountain, dozens of miles of colorful forests stretch continuously, and everywhere you see is dazzling colorful colors, like a colorful fairy tale world.

The clear water of the river reflects the blue sky, meanders through the golden carpet of land, and the bushes and pastures on both sides are in full bloom. The three colors of golden, turquoise and white blend together, and there is a sense of holiness that purifies the soul.

Now that the autumn is getting stronger, the golden yellow is draped on the body, and the river has become silent, like a fine sapphire

Dotted in between.

Surrounded by mountains and mist, it is a veritable green secret place, shuttling on the wooden plank road to feel a kind of harmony and intimacy between man and nature.

In today's era of convenient migration, people travel wholeheartedly, traveling from south to north, people not only get the external facts of being in other places, but also a kind of mood that touches the scene and feelings. The fate of life may be the passer-by in the world. During the journey, I hurried by, and finally arrived at a place where I could see the place of the soul and the pure land of the spirit.

The difference between the lowlands and the plateau seems to be insurmountable, but what is deeper is that one is a modern civilized society composed of material and consumption, and the other is a primitive ecological society with gods and spirits as the first religion.

This kind of alienation seems to be unable to make the two groups of people understand each other, but it also gives each other a chance to withdraw and watch, as a presumptuous intruder, to experience everything with calm.

When you think about it, people will always encounter many things in their long lives, whether they are good or bad or dull. All kinds of encounters often determine the turning point of life and affect the path of life.

Puzzled, many encounters are often related to small things, and they are intertwined until much later, when they show a certain outcome. The journey of life is full of ups and downs, and in the dark, there is cause and effect. Tibet is quiet and secluded, spanning 30 years of deep eternity.

The mountains in the distance are huge and stretching, and the sky is clear and clear. Closer, green meadows, dotted with a few touches of Gesang. On the edge of the tent, a mother combing her daughter's hair looks kind, as if she is one with the world.

Such self-sufficiency and self-sufficiency make the civilized people of Laborton think deeply, as if they understand, and as if they are alienated.

The prayer flags along the way are full of dilapidation, but they have a terrifying power. They are combined with the huge heavens, either static or moving, and suddenly show a kind of soaring momentum.

Carefully carved words, almost just white drawings, but calm and qualitative, quietly can bring people into a unique field.

At night, a silvery moon rises in the dark blue night sky of the plateau, and the moonlight is like water, mixed with dim yellow streetlights, illuminating the uneven gravel streets of the highlands.

The old workshops and shops on both sides of the street have closed their door panels, and wild dogs, large and small, wander the streets, some curled up on the bluestone steps in front of the shops, and the scenery in front of them looks a little sad.

Buddhism is the holy light on this snowy plateau, and those who trek on the pilgrimage road have pious and solemn expressions. They carried dried mutton and shabby clothes, gray hair, tattered and tattered, unkempt and barefoot, and their heavy Tibetan robes were the color of dust.

The inner layer of animal fur rolled up on the cuffs and the edge of the clothes, and the handfuls looked dirty. Of course, there are also the black and red faces and expressions that crisscross the ravines, all the details constitute a distant and alternative state of existence.

Kowtowing is the most pious ritual of worshiping the Buddha, in a lifetime, at least 100,000 times to kowtow, not only to repay the vow, but also for the safety and well-being of all beings. Even so, they face their pain head-on and never complain.

In order to have an equal length of the head, the five bodies are prostrate on the ground, and when kowtowing to the long head, the hands are folded together, and the hands are stretched forward. It means that he has comprehended the will and teachings of the Buddha, and every time he bows down, he marks the ground with his hand, gets up and walks forward to the mark and prostrates again, and so on.

It is a lifelong wish to be able to worship the Potala Palace and Jokhang Temple once in a lifetime, and they work hard every day to accumulate wealth, and when it comes to worship, they do not hesitate to scatter all their family wealth, and many people do not agree with their approach and think that it is extremely stupid.

But it has become a part of their lives, and when they are tired, they sit next to them to rest, drink tea, eat cakes, chat, and bask in the sun. The people were very willing to help, and they were proud of the people who could kowtow to Lhasa.

Between the so-called civilization and the wilderness, compassion or arrogance are wrong, and the devout believers always understand and inquire with an equal attitude and a gentle heart.

They endure and hope in the bitter cold, they pray bitterly in the desolation, and they will also be helpless and confused in reality. But even under such inferior living conditions, people's spiritual world is so vast and vast that it is enough to support them to measure the earth and kiss the sand with their crispy flesh.

Many Tibetans living outside Lhasa, because they made a vow in front of the Buddha, they went bankrupt, took three steps and one bow, and kowtowed all the way from their hometown to the Jokhang Temple, sometimes lasting several years or even ten years, and some of them died in the harsh plateau climate, on the long road, passing through the uninhabited area of Hoh Xil and climbing the higher altitude of the Tanggula Mountain......

Each of the vast Buddhist temples is full of solemnity and tranquility, as if giving people the strength to resist life and death.

In a Buddhist temple far away from the world, time flows and freezes. When the temple bells come like a tidal wave, when the chanting slowly echoes over the Buddha hall, when the old man's expression is always so quiet and elusive, people will hope that time in Tibet will go slower, slower.