Life is not just the present, but also poetry and distance.
In August 2018, I traveled to the Sichuan-Tibet Plateau. It is a holy land with clear blue sky, white clouds, stretch of green grass, and blooming Kelsang flowers. I set out because of my yearning. Heading west from the Chengdu Plain, the oxygen on the plateau is thin and walking is difficult. The night I stayed in Seda at an altitude of 3,900 meters, I suffered from altitude sickness and tossed and turned on the hotel bed until dawn. On the way to Seda Bus Station, I felt top-heavy and the soles of my feet felt like stepping on balls of cotton. I felt flustered. I gasped for air and felt the pain of hypoxia for the first time. At that time there was only one thought: You should be like a bird flying to your mountain.
A few years after my trip to the plateau, I still miss that trip. I have experienced severe altitude sickness, and the trivial things in life are just dust falling on the table.
When a person stands high and sees far, his mind is broadened, everything is as the poem says: if you look at all the small mountains at a glance, you will be at the top of the mountain