Tibetan lamas tell fortune.

The circle of friends has recently been screened by a movie called Gang Rinpoche, with various word-of-mouth and recommendations. This movie, called "kowtowing for nearly two hours", suddenly jumped out of the shackles of the minority and began to become the mainstream aesthetic option.

I took time to watch the film. Although I was deeply spoiled before, it didn't affect my interest in watching movies. After all, it is not the theme of winning by plot, but the shocking sound and painting on the spot and the impression impact in person are the most attractive places of this work.

The plot of the film is not complicated, and several Tibetans decided to make a pilgrimage there in the year when Gang Rinpoche was born. The film begins with a brief story of several people going on a pilgrimage. Among them, there are old people who don't want to "walk with the cow's ass for life" but hope to make a pilgrimage in this life, expectant mothers who are about to become mothers, middle-aged couples who think their ancestors and themselves have done nothing wrong but are still doomed, butchers whose hands are covered with too much blood and eager to be redeemed through pilgrimage, and an ignorant butcher. They have different stories and different wishes, and through a sentence of "take me" and "I'm going on a pilgrimage", they have gathered into a pilgrimage team.

The tractor made a "chug chug" roar, and after several preparations, everyone began to hit the road. Although I already knew it was a kowtowing movie, the first long head in the picture still shocked my heart when the lens extended from the farewell eyes of my loved ones. The crisp and powerful triple beat between the boards and the ritual feeling of crawling all over the ground slowly unfolded the long road.

Along the way, long heads came and went. Tired, I sat on the side of the road and set up a stove to make tea. When I met other Tibetans along the way, I warmly invited them and accepted others' help, as if all the people had become family members along the way. Every night, a group of people set up tents by the roadside and sit around. The hot air in the pot curled up. First of all, they briefly talked about family life. Then he said, "Let's start chanting," and the voice of chanting rang out from the tent. Although I don't understand their specific meaning, the cadence sound itself is a kind of sacredness. Under the shelter of that cowhide tent, the rain, rain and fame in the outside world have nothing to do with them, only a quiet and pious world.

Along the way, the pilgrimage team encountered a snowstorm and experienced a car accident. They welcomed the arrival of new students and witnessed the death of old people. Welcoming them on this road is both sacred and unusual. The so-called details determine success or failure, and the aftertaste theory wins or loses. Several clips in the film have become unquestionable bonus points.

On the way, the little girl told her mother that she had a headache. The adults advised her not to kowtow in the future, but her mother said, "kowtowing is good and knowledgeable." While rubbing her slightly swollen forehead, the little girl murmured, "I want to kowtow."

Drunk butchers can kill cattle and sheep cleanly on weekdays, but suddenly they can't get up by kowtowing. It turned out that he saw two ants crawling in front of him. When the ants passed by, the sound of crisp boards rang again.

The quiet Tibetan boy looked at the beautiful barber girl in Lhasa barber shop, turned the chair round and round, and only said, "Wait for me to come back to you";

Even the newborn babies, because of their natural ethnic origin, or because of their strong mothers who started pilgrimage without any rest after giving birth, or because they were baptized by the way, rarely cried all the way, they still grew up quietly on tractors that leaked rain everywhere.

In the last frame of the film, between the vast snow-capped mountains and the earth, several figures are so small that they can hardly be seen, and they continue to turn around the mountains with their long heads. As soon as the lights are on, Pu Shu's songs will ring. The road has come to an end, or the road has just begun.

"When I became a monk, my fate was good, but my fate was bad and I went far away." This is a song that several people sang together when the tractor broke down and started to pull up the mountain in the film. Perhaps in the hearts of Tibetans, they did not become lamas, nor did they have close contact with the gods in their hearts. This is the injustice of fate. Unable to become a Lama crossing the river, he began to cross the river by himself. When they go far away, they must find a way to come back and get as close as possible to the God in their hearts. Pilgrimage is the best way. This is a bumpy journey, full of difficulties, but everyone has come to the end in inner peace, and people have to admit the great power of faith.

Before watching the film reviews, many people criticized the film as a consumer belief and just a dream divorced from reality. Indeed, such a situation is too far away from our real life. We have no such cultural foundation, let alone such realistic conditions. City people who work overtime in the subway all day have too many fetters and burdens, and we have no mind or time to think about faith. That way is beyond the reach of ordinary people all their lives, and more is to struggle and compromise with the person who still has a bad life despite hearing a lot of truth.

In fact, everyone has their own different answers to what is faith. Tibetans are eager to cross others and cross themselves. It is a kind of faith to recite the scriptures and Buddha all day. Is it also a belief that ordinary people like you and me work hard every day? Tibetans go on pilgrimage to get as close as possible to the gods in their hearts, while ordinary people like you and me work hard to get as close as possible to their ideal life. This is a belief. Is this also a belief?

Perhaps each of us is also a person who has "bad luck and has gone far away". We were not born with a golden key, so we have to spend more than ten years studying hard in the cold window and decades of efforts to complete self-crossing, find the way back from afar, and get as close as possible to our deep-seated belief that life will be better, so that the older generation will not be troubled and the next generation will be less painful. Compared with Tibetan beliefs, our beliefs may be simpler and more smoky. Even in the strict religious sense, it may not be called faith at all. But like everyone in the pilgrimage team, we kowtow and make a wish seriously. We work hard, live in different ways, define our beliefs and achieve self-reliance.

It is not easy to cross the road by yourself, but on this road, we will all see the beautiful Gesanghua.