When I visited this serene corner of the world, one structure stood out above all — a magnificent Buddhist temple, towering with calm authority and gentle beauty. Its wooden roof shimmered under the sun, aged yet strong, carrying the craftsmanship of centuries. What made it so breathtaking was its multi-level design — 8 or 9 floors, each one delicately rising above the other like the layers of a sacred mountain.
Each level was accessible by a series of gradually winding paths and ancient staircases, inviting pilgrims and travelers alike to ascend not just in body, but in spirit. I began the slow climb, step by step, and with each level I reached, something within me felt lighter, quieter — as if the noise of everyday life was falling away behind me. The view changed too. The higher I went, the more diverse and colorful the world below became. At one level, I saw lush green treetops swaying in rhythm with the breeze. On another, I caught sight of a distant lake sparkling like glass, surrounded by clusters of flowering trees in every hue — pink, violet, orange, white. Nature unfolded like a scroll, ancient and endless, filled with textures and tones I hadn’t noticed before.
By the time I reached the very top, the horizon stretched farther than I had ever imagined possible — a calm, infinite canvas where earth met sky with no rush, no edge, no pressure. It was in this moment that I understood something quietly profound: peace is not always a place — it is a perspective. And this temple gave me that.
There, in the golden quiet of the highest floor, I met a Buddhist monk. He had just emerged from a long, deep meditation, his eyes gentle, his presence quiet but powerful — like a flame that didn’t flicker. He looked at me kindly and said with a soft voice, “I have been here for ten years. In silence, in study, in devotion.”
Those words stayed with me.
Ten years — in one place, in solitude, watching the seasons change, birds fly, clouds pass, the world rise and fall. Not in retreat from life, but in deep observation of its rhythm. He didn’t speak much more, but he didn’t need to. His stillness spoke volumes.
As I descended from the temple, the wind felt different, cooler, more aware. And so did I. Visiting that temple was not just a journey upward in height — it was a climb inward. A rare, soul-stirring encounter with silence, beauty, wisdom, and the endless sky.
