Mo Xiang Life Composition (1) Why do you linger in Mo Xiang so fragrant? Because of the ink.
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I haven't touched my brush for two weeks, but I'm a little rusty. I still remember shaking badly when I was writing, and now I have such a plan. Only in the ink can I soothe my impetuous heart. Drive away troubles and leave peace.
I just started writing in the fourth grade, and I have been with Mo Xiang for three years. At that time, I still had crooked words, which was the first time I saw Mo Xiang's impression. At that time, contact with ink was purely out of spare time. Write every word without distractions, and gradually, it seems that you have realized something. On the dark yellow fringed paper, a drop of ink gave them life. Although it is not very beautiful, I seem to have a great sense of accomplishment in Nu Wa's creation, because the black font on dark yellow withered tassel paper is a reflection of the soul.
The feeling of indifference, tranquility and far-reaching is the idea when writing. It's hard to write, and your heart will shake badly if you deviate a little. Concentrate. Mo Xiang taught me to concentrate. Only by focusing on writing can my life be wonderful.
Mo Xiang taught me to be calm, and people need to be calm. Calm makes people sober, calm makes people smart, calm makes people calm, calm makes people rational and steady, calm makes people generous and open-minded, and calm makes people orderly. Whenever there is only one word left in the work, there is more panic and anger, and less calmness. Why not start all over again and experience the fun of Nu Wa's making people again?
Open the curled pages of Cao Quanbei and the slightly yellow Raptors Monument. They taught me to be soft in the middle. The roundness of "Cao Quanbei" and the rigidity of "Zhang Menglong Monument" have inexhaustible philosophies, and only the heart. Grab the ink,
Between ecstatic words
Spread the blue sky into a faint picture scroll, reveal a faint scent of pen and ink, leave a quiet reverie, penetrate the colorful clouds, and find a paradise for flying dreams. I became a magician in the ink fragrance, an angel with the divine power of Nu Wa, flowing freely on the rice paper.
By the way, Mo Xiang also taught me to think. Every time I create a life, I have to think about the fate of this life, whether it is wonderful, vigorous or mediocre. I have become the master of their fate. During my stay, I thought about how to interpret their lives and complete their beautiful lives.
When the clouds stopped to take a nap, ink came.
Mo Xiang's Life Composition (2) I wandered in the black and white world and enjoyed the fragrance of calligraphy alone.
This has to start with grandpa. He writes a good running script, with words floating like clouds and agility like dragons. Watching grandpa write is a rare enjoyment. Although he is seventy years old, he is hale and hearty; I saw him holding the tube with five fingers, gently spreading out the paper, putting pen to paper to hide the front, lifting pen to tie the line, and closing the pen to show the front in one go. Every movement, every style, like Tai Ji Chuan in Zhang Sanfeng, is flowing, superb and full of heart ... Since then, a dream has set sail in my heart.
When I was seven years old, I held Yan Zhenqing's "Dota and Monument", and I held that thick pen with my tender little hands. Although the brush is not heavy, the weak nib is like an elusive spirit. My muscles are tense when I write, so my arms often ache. Gradually, those things came alive in my eyes. Dot painting is round, dignified and beautiful; Stroke by stroke, dynamic and static blend. I fell in love with calligraphy, pinning my yearning on the pen tip, concentrating on it, writing beautifully but not soft, and making a strong comeback.
My temperament and mood began to blend into the dancing ink. Horizontal, like running water, reflecting a soothing melody; Vertical as a castle peak, showing infinite dignity; Skimming is like summer flowers, emitting attractive fragrance; Thoughts, like autumn fruits, harvest bright golden yellow ... Those words live in a black-and-white world, hovering in front of my eyes like dragons, dancing like silver snakes, wandering like springs, or like vast autumn mountains. It seems that I am writing a beautiful legend. The front is like a mountain stream, and the back is like the branches of an old tree ... My grandfather with me is also there.
Nowadays, calligraphy has become a part of my life. In my spare time, I like to order a drop of water in front of the table and grind it gently beside the inkstone. I like to spread out a page of rice paper, splash ink on the paper, let the pen tip rise and fall, be light or heavy, be slow or urgent, be as clever as a dragon, and do it at one go ... All other ideas are left behind, and I only fall in love with the realm of peace. At that moment, I seemed to have crossed the edge of Mo Chi, and I met Shu Xian. I waved my hand, and my heroic feelings haunted me.
Ink fragrance is elegant, accompanying me through the day and night, bringing me spiritual comfort. Wandering in the black and white world, I would like to immerse myself in ink, interpret my life with words, and let that thick ink flow into my life.
Mo Xiang's Life Composition (3) has been a long time, the night is dim, Yi Deng is like a bucket, so he leisurely holds a book and reads quietly. I laugh, sit on my side, or lie half-down. A book is enough. Between the blue light and the yellow scroll, the ink in the book is curly.
It's a quiet girl by Yishui, wading with clothes. He is a strong man in Yangguandao, playing the pipa. Shake the page lightly and savor it carefully, and the accumulation of 5,000 years of civilization is vividly on the paper.
Holding an iron plate to watch "The River Never Returning" and rolling around Jiang Tao, I heard the deep thoughts of a generation of heroes.
When Peng was angry, he rushed to the top of the fence and vowed to break through the lack of Helan Mountain. "loyalty to the country" stabbed him in the back and in his heart. But the helplessness of "few confidants, who is willing to listen to broken strings", can anyone? Sure! Wang Jian begging for land, Lian Po who may eat, and Li Guang who is self-sufficient. ...
I read the winter plums in Hà Thu with half a volume of golden scriptures. Among the flowers, I saw the withering of several beauties.
When I first met, I was ashamed to leave, but I smelled the beautiful image of my childhood in exquisite grace; When I know each other, I am ashamed to say the sweet words of "I miss you like a full moon, and the brightness decreases every night"; The oath of "life and death are rich, what the son says" is as heavy as a thousand dollars; When we fell in love, that "I didn't know until I came and left. That swallow was just an old acquaintance's sorrow, you know?" Lyu3 bu4 is gone, and The Story Of Diu Sim is still dancing. ...
There are poems in my heart, listening to the rain in front of the court, and seeing the changes of several celebrities.
"Once you climb to the top of the mountain, you will see that all the other mountains look short under the sky." When they were young, they were full of ambition, and their youthful lofty sentiments of pointing out the mountains and rivers rippled in the spirit of literati reprimanding Fang Qiu, while at the same time, Mr. Xie, who helped the world, was born in the radical ambition in troubled times. After ten years of grinding a sword, the frost knife has never been tried. Who is unfair to you today? Unparalleled elegance makes them high-spirited, and extraordinary talent makes them soar. They threw themselves into the palace with enthusiasm.
However, they were soon unhappy. In the scenery of "success at a young age, and our capital is full of nosy people", they have to face not only the embarrassment of "asking Shu Ren about ghosts and gods", but also the need for the king to "think about clothes and flowers, think about capacity" and decorate peace. Accompanied by it, it is bound to be all kinds of bumpy official careers, wandering life, constant demotion and being far away from home.
Fortunately, the poverty of life gave them an epiphany. They found the back garden of the soul, the habitat of the soul-Tao Yuanming entered the Peach Blossom Garden, boarded Youzhou Taiwan, Li Bai rode Bailuyuan in Qingya, and the seven sages of the bamboo forest sang under the leaves. They stand outside the noisy world, picking chrysanthemums in Nanshan, flowing with meandering water and drinking in bamboo forests. ...
The wind blew through the pages of the book, and in the ripples, the scribes whose shirts faded by half sang softly, with a little loneliness. How proud was the white knight pushing the golden cup? There is also the favorite Nalan Xingde, who embroidered the words "If life is just like the first sight", a thin suit can't hide the loneliness and sadness in his eyes.
Wandering quietly in the world of books, I don't know when to indulge in the realm of innocence. Close the pages and take a deep breath. Only the room is surrounded by ink.