Walking Dunhuang with Heart —— The Power of Walking in 2014 Through the Lens of mini X

    In an air-conditioned Beijing office at 26 degrees, I often found myself missing Dunhuang, where I had spent six days and five nights under temperatures above 40 degrees, covering 150 kilometers—from the ruins of the ancient Han Great Wall to the Devil City of Yardang, traversing riverbeds, Gobi deserts, and sandy wastelands... I can't put into words the swelling in my feet from walking on ground heated to 70 degrees, nor can I let others truly experience the searing pain of the sun scorching across the vast black Gobi. But I want to share with you, through pictures, the deepest insights I gained from the journey.

 

Starting Point Photo Shoot of “The Power of Walking”

Resilient plants in the Gobi Desert, the spiritual light in life’s desert

    The Gobi stretches endlessly, with occasional rocky mounds standing like solemn "graves." In truth, the black Gobi from afar resembles a massive coal yard, with unevenly scattered black gravel of all sizes covering the ground, each step posing a risk of twisting an ankle. Our blister-covered feet were utterly defeated in their battle against the gravel, every step a piercing agony. Walking here felt like traversing a desert of life—no ideals visible ahead, no path behind, and often we find ourselves unable to escape the overwhelming desolation. We grow downcast, oppressed, curse, and feel lost... But suddenly, you notice even among the gravel and these "graves," resilient plants striving to grow. They aren’t green, not vibrant, just lone patches of faint purple nestled among the stones, lying low. Their presence lifts the spirits of all travelers and brings tears to my sentimental eyes... I could almost hear them whispering of loneliness and hope. Perhaps tomorrow a fierce wind and 70-degree ground temperature will scorch them, dry them out, and erase them as if they never existed, but in that fleeting moment we meet, they are alive—offering a touch of gentle purple to the black "graveyard" and a stubborn streak of resilience. We all have unpredictable futures and moments in life as barren as a desert, but that patch of low-growing purple will forever be an indispensable “spiritual light” in my life.

 

Capturing resilient plants in the desert with mini X

 

A close-up shot by mini X of a dead tree in the desert

See the scenery from a different angle; life needs a fresh perspective

    Walking in the water-scarce Gobi, besides physical exhaustion, there’s also monotony and loneliness. All you see are bare coarse sand and gravel, and under the rule of silence throughout the journey, without strong patience to fight boredom, the already grueling 30-kilometer daily trek becomes even harder. The only companion I had was my small mini X camera, whose unique wide-angle fisheye function gave the Gobi a different perspective and vitality. Capturing the seemingly endless horizon was oddly enjoyable. Like a child with a new toy, I was immersed in it. The otherwise ordinary vast Gobi could, through my lens, present a uniquely distinctive charm. Life is the same—each day may seem plain and joyless, but shift your perspective, step back a little, or approach it with childlike wonder. Discover with heart, perceive with soul, and perhaps our lives will take on a refreshing new meaning.

 

Wide-angle mini X shot of teammates resting in the distance

 

Wide-angle mini X shot of the Devil City

 

Wide-angle backlit mini X shot of teammates on the move

A long road walked slowly, with you holding hands, and that’s the destination

    Before departure, a volunteer said, “The people you walk with are as important as the place you want to go, even more so.” Each day of walking, I used to eagerly anticipate reaching the end, but the more I looked forward to it, the more exhausted I became. Gradually, as I walked, I remembered Kun Ge’s words: “Don’t rush on the journey of life.” I slowed my expectations—the end was always there, and as long as I kept walking steadily step by step, I would get there. Moreover, I had these companions who, though “silent,” offered immense encouragement with just a glance. Together, we rejoiced over a slice of watermelon after walking 30 kilometers each day, and listened together under the moonlight on the Gobi as Kun Ge sang the “Heart Sutra” and “My Hometown is Shigatse.”

http://v.youku.com/v_show/id_XNzUyMDkxNTMy.html?qq-pf-to=pcqq.c2c

I became a quiet recorder, capturing Kun Ge’s ethereal and clear singing voice with my little mini X. Even now, when I replay it, the melodious singing still calms my heart, as if following the song I could see my own peaceful self and the serenity of the world.

    Finally, the last day’s end point arrived, but 100 meters before it, everyone stopped. With the same heartbeat, the same anticipation, we decided to run hand in hand toward the finish. At this moment, even the most resolute men had teary eyes and embraced their comrades tightly. We are not alone on this journey because not far away, there are always like-minded companions, brothers and sisters waiting to hold your hand, to give you a hug. The feeling that someone is waiting for you after crossing the hill—that’s something we’re all searching for.