2023 Tibet Travel Memoir

A Journey to the Closest Place to Heaven, Reconciling with Myself. That year, I set foot in Tibet—not for the scenery, not for a pilgrimage, but to escape. I was simply overwhelmed with sorrow. The passing of a close family member took away the deepest bond in my life and left behind an unhealable wound. I tried to live as usual, but I could never pull myself out of the sadness. I began to fear the quiet of the night, the noise of crowds, and the moments when I was alone with my thoughts. No matter where I was, there was always a void in my heart, silently screaming. During those days, I couldn't stop asking myself, "What should I do?" Until one day, a voice whispered repeatedly in my heart: "Go to the place closest to heaven. Go find the self you've been suppressing." And so, I embarked on a journey to Tibet. The sunlight in Lhasa was so bright it seemed almost transparent. The Potala Palace stood silently, as if frozen in time and faith. I stood at the corner of Makye Ame, watching the prayer wheels spin tirelessly day and night. There were mantras murmured by the locals and confusion in the eyes of tourists. At that moment, I neither made a wish nor complained. I simply looked up at the sky and tried to tell myself: "You've made it here. It's okay." And when I walked past Namtso Lake, watching the water shimmer in the wind like tears of longing, I finally understood that some sorrows will never truly fade, but they can find a place to rest. Tibet is not a cure for healing; it merely gave me a space to honestly face my pain, to calmly admit my vulnerability, and to accept that the real me doesn't need to pretend to be strong. This journey was not a farewell but a connection—a connection with the departed and with my own heart. I will remember, under that vast plateau sky, the tears I shed, the unspoken longing, and the desperate effort to feel better. Perhaps heaven is truly far away, or perhaps it resides within our hearts.