Sit still, smile, watch plum blossoms and lilacs in full bloom, swaying and full of joy. The mountains in the distance, the water in the vicinity, birds singing and butterflies singing, just like a fresh and euphemistic poem in the flowers, dyed the picture of time and faded the clothes of time.
Leaning against the window, listening to the long wind, watching three or two new swallows slanting through the rain curtain, so some thoughts hidden in my heart came with the wind and fell on my brow.
Along the way, the mountains are heavy and the waters are complex, but I feel that there is no light, and I once dreamed of a smile. How many seasons have come and gone, and how many flowers have left red patches. Only the heart fragrance sealed in the memory blooms in the windy night, as amazing as when it was first seen.
In time, the mountain is a journey, the water is a journey, all the way forward, through the joy of flowers, the calmness of leaves, the joy of wind, the coolness of rain, feeling the warmth of human feelings and the vicissitudes of time. A heart gradually likes to live in a corner, banishing its soul in the mountains and rivers with a thin and distant attitude, and nourishing its temperament in the rhyme of ink fragrance.
With a peaceful and quiet heart, plant chrysanthemums in your own half-acre flower field, sing the wind and enjoy the moon, keep the worldly noise out of your heart, be indifferent all your life, be a gentle and compassionate woman, like an ordinary plant, face the wind, soak in the rain, be noisy or lonely, just want to laugh at mountains and rivers with low eyebrows, let the world pass by suddenly, and the years turn thousands of times.
We know life comes and goes in a hurry. In the boundless wilderness of time, in the fate doomed to be full of joys and sorrows, we are all passers-by of time, or meet, or turn around, or deviate, or brush. Dust is like the wind, like a dream, and the past is like smoke and dust. Don't force eternal delusion in everything, and don't force flowers to see Buddha's perfection.
If life is a grand event, I was here when you came. Being able to pick up the fragrance of a few years, touch the warmth of a few dark fragrance sleeves, and then turn around and leave is the fulfillment of the incomparable compassion of the years.
Boil a pot of Zen tea for several years. I hope we can meet in our lifetime, don't miss some flowers, and don't live up to our true selves. After Qian Fan's death, it is a complete life, a long life, and an initial heart. You can still keep the original clarity and crystal.
Writing, a wisp of ink, description in the wind, freehand brushwork in the rain, dribs and drabs, between the lines, not for, how many legends will time write, just to record the warmth of mountains and rivers and miss the world, and to steal the years I stayed here, but also to pursue that little fragrant text, to gently recall some past events and faint nostalgia.
I don't know, life, walking around, roadside kiosks, how many traces of dust can you leave?
We talked all the way about cherishing, cherishing, wishing that time would slow down and old friends would never leave, but I don't know how many times we met each other will last forever. This road of mountains and rivers, we have left, and who has become the scenery in the eyes, the sadness of tears in the words?
In the past, whether it was warm or cold, or sad or happy, it never really blew in the wind, and it was indifferent. Those empty memories, hidden in the mirror, or the memories of the past forgotten by the horizon are deeply rooted in the bottom of my heart, some melancholy and some warmth.
It is said that the older we get, the more fragile our hearts become. However, in the process of walking, we gradually learn to hide our emotions and put on a solid armor, so we can bear the pain and injury alone.
I always believe that no matter how dark the time is, there will always be a moment to clear the clouds. No matter how noisy the world is, if you keep a quiet heart, you can get a clear mind and see indifference.
With a kind heart, there will be a kind Lu Yu; If you have good thoughts, you can live with compassion. Time, ruthlessness or affection, affection or indifference, lies only in people's thoughts.
Time is still the same, open your hands. In the clear and intricate palm prints, there are traces of wind and worries about rain. Whether it is hidden or not, fate has already made arrangements.
Outside the window, the breeze is blowing gently, flowers are blooming, and the words at the fingertips are like butterflies sleeping in the wind, sometimes messy and trivial, sometimes faint and silent, like thoughts that suddenly come to mind at a certain moment.
In the years, there will always be some stories stranded in fleeting water, some emotions that cannot be expressed, and some sadness that cannot be sent away, such as a flowering tree. When the wind blows, it will be a touch of melancholy.
I don't know, those who have come, left, seen, invisible, cared about, or don't care, will all fade away in the long river of years, and the wind of the world will always be old and fleeting. Now that the flowers have blossomed and fallen, we should learn to accept the pain of falling flowers, understand, perceive and accept the incompleteness and regret of life with a indifferent mood, and then give ourselves a calm mind to step on it.
On the plain notes of the years, there will eventually be a strong or light mark of the past. After half a lifetime, we should learn to simplify the complex and move forward with a wise attitude.
There is no need to dwell on the past for a long time, but it will be remembered for a long time. A few lines in the book are simple and delicate, either happy or sad, which I think is a gift.
Gently shake off the thoughts accumulated in the bottom of my heart, make my heart indifferent, let those memories about rain, wind, flowers and petals sit down calmly, stay in the mae of time, and decorate like water.