Sri Lanka was my first trip to Asia. It came suddenly, at the end of an important chapter of my life, during a time filled with uncertainty and anxiety about the future. I needed to disconnect, to step out of my daily routine and breathe again.
I had just graduated, without even managing to truly enjoy the milestone. The previous months had been a blur of long shifts, overtime, weeks without breaks. I felt drained, as if I were moving forward on autopilot, no longer really listening to myself.
In Sri Lanka, I found time again. A slower time, marked by gestures, smiles, rituals. The photo that accompanies this story was taken during a celebration at a Buddhist temple: men and women walk barefoot on the sand, dressed in purple, carrying decorated structures and peacock feathers. Their movements are synchronized, collective. No one stands out, yet everyone is essential.
It was one of the first times I truly understood the meaning of sangha: the community. Not as an abstract idea, but as a tangible experience of walking together. In that moment, I also felt karuna, a concept often mentioned by our guide Kande: compassion — not as pity, but as deep attention toward others, as presence.
And then there is karma, which this journey taught me to see not as fate or punishment, but as a gentle responsibility: every action leaves a trace, every choice carries weight. Even taking a break. Even stopping.
That trip didn’t solve everything, but it opened up a space. It taught me that slowing down is not an escape, and that sometimes, to find yourself, you first have to get lost — far away, in silence, together with others.
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