**I’m a copywriter.
Last year, I wrote a piece on columbarium niches—and just from that one ad, the client sold thirty spots.
I told them, “Wait—let me read you this line first:

“A gentle breeze in this world fulfills countless wishes.”

They didn’t cry. But I wrote three versions, and one made me cry.**

A lot of people tell me: columbarium niches are hard to write about. Too solemn, too heavy, too traditional.
I say: that’s because you’re not writing toward the heart.

When I write about columbarium spaces, I don’t start with the price.
I start with dignity.

Are traditional burial grounds good? Yes. But they’re exposed—wind, rain, overgrown grass. How often can you really visit?
A columbarium is located in a temple Quiet, serene, sheltered. Bathed in light and reverence.
Come any day, any time. It’s clean, peaceful, and deeply respectful.
It honors those who passed. And it brings peace to those still here.

—That’s what I call writing the truth… by writing to the soul.

Then I talk about energy.

Is feng shui mysterious? Maybe. But energy is real.
Temples aren’t built just anywhere. They’re situated on sacred ground—chosen for spiritual significance, surrounded by natural harmony.
Placing a loved one here isn’t about “storage.” It’s about connection.
Morning bells, evening chants, sutras recited daily—this isn’t background noise. It’s continuous cleansing of energy.
What you fear—“negative energy”—here, it’s transformed into tranquility and blessing.

This line made one client decide on the spot:
“Not every place is an energy field.”

Finally, I write about grace.

This is where a columbarium niche transcends physical space—it becomes a point of spiritual connection.

The Buddha of the Underworld made a vow: “Until all hells are emptied, I will not attain Buddhahood.”
Placing your loved one here means aligning with that vow.
Daily sutras, endless prayers—this isn’t ritual. It’s active accumulation of merit. Peace. A better transition.
This isn’t superstition. This is compassion in its deepest form:

“It’s not about saying goodbye. It’s about transcendence.”

When I write these words, I often pause.
I’m not selling a product. I’m offering comfort.

So how do you write about a columbarium?

Here’s what I tell my students:

• Write about how it offers more peace than a graveyard.

• Write about the temple’s energy—pure, sacred, protected.

• Write that it’s not just a place—it’s an act of grace.

But if you only write that, you’re still only scratching the surface.

Good copy doesn’t sell a product. It fills a void in the heart.

What people lack isn’t money—it’s peace of mind.
Not grandeur—but meaning.
Not a farewell—but a way to keep connected.

So how do I do it?
I gently fill that void with words.

Let me leave you with a line I often use:
“Unending love in this world; a sacred space in the presence of the divine.”

Write like that—and it won’t feel like you’re selling a niche.
It’ll feel like you’re offering peace.

And that’s when the client says:
“I’d like to reserve one for my father.”

—That’s how you know it’s working.