From nightlife to monastery life, Somsak’s journey reveals three powerful lessons hidden in ancient lamps. A modern spiritual tale with heart.

 

The Three Lamps of Somsak

Somsak was not the kind of man anyone expected to see on a mountain trail at dawn.

He wore a weather-worn grey cloak, its inner lining stitched with three hidden lamps—small clay lanterns given to monks on a pilgrimage of self-discovery. The air was thin, the climb relentless, but his steps were patient, almost reverent.

Hard to believe this was the same Somsak who once wore designer jackets, not cloaks…

Who once spent nights in Bangkok’s loudest pubs, not under the silence of starlight…

Who once had more wealth than wisdom, more admirers than purpose.

At 25, his life had everything except meaning.

He had money, beauty, status. Yet some nights—between one party and the next—an ache would bloom in his chest. A strange emptiness. A feeling that something essential had slipped through the cracks of his glittering life.

And so one morning, without warning, Somsak walked away from it all.

He travelled north and joined a quiet Monastery Group in Thailand, where the world felt slower, softer, intentional. His teacher—Ajahn—the calm-eyed monk with a voice like flowing water, welcomed him without judgement.

For months Somsak swept the temple floors, meditated at sunrise, and washed rice with trembling humility. But the greatest test came unexpectedly.

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The Pilgrimage of the Three Lamps

One evening, Ajahn placed three small lamps in his hands.

“Climb the mountain,” he said, “and return only when you understand what these lamps are.”

No further instruction. No explanation.

Just a path leading upward.

So Somsak climbed—past thorn bushes, past stony outcrops, past the weight of his old identity.

On the first night, he lit the first lamp. Its glow was small but steady.

In its light, he realized:

> “I have spent years trying to impress the world, but never once tried to know myself.”

This lamp was Awareness.

On the second night, he lit the second lamp. The wind almost killed the flame, but he cupped his hands to protect it. And then he understood:

> “Nothing I protect ever feels heavy. It feels meaningful.”

This lamp was Responsibility—a value he never practiced while drowning in indulgence.

On the third night, exhausted and sore, he lit the third lamp at the mountain’s peak. It flickered wildly before settling into a calm glow.

In its gentle light, Somsak realized:

> “The world outside gives pleasure. The world inside gives peace. Only when they are balanced does life feel whole.”

This lamp was Balance.

When he descended the mountain, Ajahn listened silently and smiled.

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The Final Lesson

“Somsak,” his teacher said, placing a hand on his shoulder,

“you have found what you were searching for. Now go back.”

Somsak blinked. “Go back…? To the city?”

“Yes. Go back to your life. To your work, your family, your people.

You left the world to find truth. Now return and live it.”

Ajahn pointed to the three lamps.

“Awareness. Responsibility. Balance.

Carry these—not in your cloak, but in your choices.”

Somsak understood then that spirituality was never meant to be an escape.

It was a way of returning—stronger, clearer, and softer.

He bowed deeply.

And when Somsak finally walked down the road leading back to Bangkok—

his grey cloak fluttering, his eyes serene, and the three lamps glowing quietly within him—

he knew he wasn’t leaving the mountain.

He was taking it with him.