People can enter poetry, and poetry is like life.
I walked into poetry, lived into a pile of dishes, and lived a quality life.
Jian Zheng once said, "Life is like a quatrain, even and even." . We rise and fall in the cold and warm drinking water, crisscross the gentle slope valley, indulge ourselves in the light and stay alone in a corner. Over and over again, we have cultivated the charm of poetry, which is exactly what people can enter poetry, and poetry is like life.
How people get into poetry, I say it's complacency. Self-satisfaction is self-satisfaction, and self-satisfaction is self-satisfaction. I like Zhuang Zhou who is good at letting go. Facing the glory from heaven, I would rather drag my tail in the mud and choose to do it myself. I also love Ruan Ji, a crazy bamboo man, and Hong, who is lonely in the wild, crying loudly for the world, being laughed at but enjoying myself and finding the true meaning of the world. Recently, I heard that Hangzhou Middle School sent a bunch of vegetables to Huixian students, and I hope students can live a happy life like vegetables.
At both ends of history, the physical body was blocked and the initial heart remained unchanged. It turns out that we all want to live like vegetables, be broad and have little desire, not go against the sky, advance and retreat moderately, and enter poetry without asking for much understanding.
I say it doesn't matter how people enter poetry. View sages, indifferent to humiliation, but Song Like and Zi Rong decided to argue about honor and disgrace; You can be punished as calmly as Huang Yongyu, and endure the accident with a smile; Can also be like Qian Zhongshu's life, concentrate on learning until the realm. Look at the present, indifferent to fame and fortune, just like Qin abandoned his gorgeous academic qualifications and devoted his life to the people in the countryside; Can be used as a seed like Zhong Yang, wading through mountains and rivers, singing string songs and learning from teachers; What's more, Wang Jicai and Wang Shihua, a couple guarding the island, have taken root on a desert island for the sake of the peace of the motherland and spent their whole lives.
Excuse me, what prevents us from living a quiet life like vegetables? Nothing more than reluctant to let go. How to give up and put it down? Please be indifferent to your ambition. Exactly: the world is cold and shocking, only when it is idle. People are as indifferent as the breeze and as natural as poetry.
Poetry is like life, but how to say it? Holderlin's pursuit of "poetic dwelling" flowed from his poems and became a portrayal of his life. Stendhal's short poem "Life, Love and Writing" sums up life. Confucius said, "Poetry can arouse, examine, crowd and complain." So he celebrated the ceremony, watched the troubled times, and attacked them in groups, complaining that the world was incompetent. Isn't this his life?
A poem, a long and short sentence, or a dead tree, or a canoe, is this or that life, poetry is like life!
Almost because people can enter poetry and poetry is like life, I can live like a pile of vegetables, self-reliant, elegant and innocent all my life. This picturesque world should be happy. Whether fried or cooked, this pile of dishes is always complacent and indifferent to life.
Further reading: two other short articles and essays
Appreciate a colorful fallen leaf
Walking in the park, going to Qiu Lai in spring, rustling trees, red maple leaves and yellow willows. Compared with the colorful flowers in the garden, the fallen leaves seem a little lonely. Tourists are enjoying the flowers, but they don't notice a few small leaves. However, there is a girl who is only eleven or twelve years old, walking on a path covered with fallen leaves and watching with interest. "Oh, how beautiful!" She may have seen a favorite fallen leaf, so she bent down to pick it up with joy and held it in front of her mother: "Mom, look! This leaf is shaped like my little shovel! " The excited tone is like explorers discovering priceless treasures.
Her mother just glanced at the leaves casually and said, "well, don't get your clothes dirty." "I said, and a group of parents around me talked about my parents' shortcomings.
I also picked up a few fallen leaves and studied them carefully: the leaves of maple trees are shaped like palms, and the color is not a single red, but as colorful as flames; The fallen leaves of poplar are bluish brown and close to heart-shaped; Willow leaves are graceful and streamlined, like a canoe. They used to be lush, but now they fall with the wind, but they have a different kind of beauty, that is, to see the sun, although it is dazzling.
In the eyes of the little girl's mother, fallen leaves are nothing. They can neither be spent as money nor eaten as food. The little girl found her treasure in this neglected fallen leaf. Those who are troubled by the complicated world and human feelings are exhausted and miserable, not because they lack the beauty in life, but because they forget to appreciate the beauty of a fallen leaf.
The scenery outside the window
I will never get tired of looking at the scenery in the window.
A window is a landscape painting, but the scenery on the painting is always changing, fresh and charming.
In the morning, the window sent me a picture of the rising sun. With the more and more bright dawn, the canopy on the Dongshan beam is like a mother in labor. A red sun breaks free from the chest and abdomen of the mountain, and the morning glow is born, so fresh, so warm and so magnificent. So a brand-new day full of vitality, vigor and hope came to me from the window.
At dusk, the afterglow of the sunset glow has just faded. With the gentle evening breeze, the amorous moonlight crept into the window. It is bright, moist, warm and pure, so I can't help reaching out of the window to feel the holy and natural jade skin.
During the day, the blue sky is deep and distant, and a few birds are free and light. At night, a few insects chirp, a few stars twinkle, hazy and mysterious, quiet and profound.
The bud licking by the window is the announcement of childishness-spring is coming-spring is coming! So the window was touched by the cuckoo's urging, depicting the busyness of the peak plate, smearing the spring rain like smoke, overflowing Chun Lv like a tide, freehand brushwork showing the crisp cries of young children and the smiling faces of white-haired youth.
In summer, there are turbulent clouds outside the window, swift and beautiful lightning, explosive thunder, hearty rain, unrestrained flood, light fog like gauze, rainbow like a dream, floret umbrella like a poem, and flowers like a flower.
A yellow leaf falls from the window and brings me an autumn letter. In the face of endless rain, I haven't had time to savor the bitterness of lovesickness. Outside the window, I was shown a thick and golden harvest, and handfuls of sickles were immersed in sunshine and laughter.
When the turbulent east wind sings, the simple and warm dance of poplars is displayed outside the window, telling the deep and calm thinking of the mountain, as well as a firm fragrance of Jiangnan and a strong dark green tree beyond the Great Wall.
Also, there is a light footprint chasing clouds, a faint figure bathed in moonlight, a shallow smile decorated with wild flowers, a gentle wave dancing with the breeze, and ...
The scenery outside the window can never be seen.
I couldn't resist the temptation to walk out of the window, and I became a landscape, didn't I? !