When I was in China, I visited a temple on a rainy day.
I was there to admire the beautiful architecture and the peaceful surroundings in an otherwise too-populated city.
Little did I know, I was observing the daily comings and goings of a regular day, with people making a stop to and from their daily lives to meditate, pray and gather. The monks who lived there worked as any worker would, saying hello to people, fixing the lights, sweeping, cooking. This was their home. I felt oddly out of place, yet strangely okay.