Miles By Foot

My calves were on fire, every pore oozed sweat, but I kept climbing.

Two-hundred sixty-eight steps separated faithful pilgrims, curious locals, and out-of-shape tourists from the Tian Tan Buddha, an enormous statue perched atop a hazy peak on Lantau Island, seventeen miles away from the electric heart of Hong Kong. Separated from the din of traffic and the city’s ubiquitous skyscrapers by a thirty-minute subway ride on the Tung Chung Line, Lantau Island is a haven, swathed with mountainous rainforest and eye-level clouds.

My fellow climbers were silent, carefully planting their feet with each step. The stifling humidity made our breaths shallow and the stone steps slick, so even the most sure-footed climber took care. Although I compulsively number steps in my head, I lost count halfway up. My heart was pounding in my ears and I could feel my cheeks and forehead pulsing; each step seemed taller than the last.

After six minutes of climbing, I finally saw the immense statue face-to-face. It was the definition of grand, a hundred feet tall and cast in a weathered bronze. Even more awe-inspiring was the utter human silence that pervaded the mountaintop. Not one person paused to catch their breath, nor were they chatting with their companions about the challenge of the arduous ascent. Instead, everyone was reverent—young and old, local and foreign, believer and non-believer.

Devoted pilgrims, unconcerned with their shining brows and damp shirts, faced the Buddha and stood tall. In a smooth motion, these devotees brought their palms and fingers together and crisply bowed three times. After a moment of meditation, they would move counterclockwise a quarter of the way around the Buddha and perform the same gesture, once for each cardinal direction.

For them, this was not a tourist attraction; it was a spiritual destination. The wrinkled list in the back pocket of my shorts noted the Tian Tan Buddha as simply another item to be checked off. I still had five more sights to see that day, but I felt compelled, even honored to linger.

The trees below the platform hissed in the summer breeze, and a refreshing mist coated my neck. My eyelids drifted closed and I listened to the world around me, slowing my breath to match nature’s slow, even rhythm. In this holy place, Buddhists and non-Buddhists alike are welcome to be at peace with their world, with their neighbors, and with themselves.

The descent would be easier. Understanding, after all, weighs nothing.