Seda, a place where faith abounds

In September on the plateau, as the autumn breeze begins to stir, it is the perfect time to visit Seda. Here, crimson leaves contrast with maroon robes, and the golden roofs of Buddhist temples glimmer in the morning light, as if a flowing thangka painting has been unfurled across the heavens and earth. If you set foot on this land, let me share its wonders with you. Setting out from Chengdu, the long-distance bus winds through mountain roads for days. Though the journey is arduous, you’ll glimpse snow-capped peaks like lotus flowers and prayer flags as vibrant as blood. Upon arriving in Seda, first find a Tibetan-style guesthouse to rest—the warmth of butter tea will chase away the plateau’s chill. Remember to pack thick clothing, as the temperature swings dramatically between day and night. When the midnight wind rises, the temple’s bronze bells will blend with your dreams. At five in the morning, the entire valley awakens. Countless red houses stretch like mani piles, while monks, prayer wheels in hand, walk briskly toward the debate courtyard. Follow their path, and you’ll witness red robes swirling in the debate grounds, hand gestures like dances, and the chanting of sutras mingling with the fluttering of wind-horse flags. Stay quiet—this is their daily practice. In the afternoon, gaze from afar at the sky burial site, where ridgelines resemble a Buddha’s hand cradling a sea of clouds. If your energy holds, hike around the mountain, spinning prayer wheels along the way. Mani piles rise in layers, each stone carved with devotion. If you meet herders, greet them with a smile—they might offer you tsampa, the plateau’s purest kindness. At dusk, head to the Grand Sutra Hall of the Buddhist academy. As twilight deepens, hundreds of butter lamps flicker to life, and the chanting slows into a deep, resonant tide. Sit quietly on the steps, listening to the wind sweep past countless stupas, and you’ll understand what it means to find peace. On your last night, tie wind-horse papers inscribed with sutras to a prayer flag pole. Circle it three times clockwise, letting the plateau’s wind carry away all attachments. The journey home is long, but that sea of red and the sound of chanting will remain an indelible scripture in your memory.