On a pure morning, near the ancient temple, the early sunshine points to the treetops. A winding path leads to a hidden place, and the Buddhist temple is surrounded by branches and flowers. Here, birds live in the mountain light, and people's hearts feel quiet in the pond. A thousand voices were quiet, but the bell rang. (Tang Changjian's Zen Forest after Broken Mountain Temple).
I shook my head and recited ancient poems, sitting under the ginkgo tree. It's easy to chant Buddhist scripture, and I also understand clearly that ginkgo trees can be divided into male and female. Naked girl answers Brother Dust-free, but it's no longer a burden.
Brother Jing 'an came over. I grabbed him and wanted to talk to him about various problems.
Jing 'an is my friend who talks about everything. His knowledge is really much higher than mine. Let's talk about the past and discuss the present, regardless of the topic. He actually answered a lot of "intractable diseases" for me. I was so impressed that I forgot all about the abbot's personal interview, because I knew that the "Three Friends in a Cold Year" hanging on the abbot's hall was written by Jing 'an, and calligraphy, piano, chess and painting seemed omnipotent.
I asked Jing 'an, "What is a Buddha?" Jing An replied, "The Buddha is outside the Buddha."
The answer is irrelevant. I think the topic is a bit big. You can answer clearly in a sentence other than ginkgo male and female. Let's be simple and realistic
I asked Jing 'an, "What is prose?" Jing An replied: "The text is outside the text."
Still irrelevant, I continued to ask: "What is poetry?" This time, Brother Dust smiled and replied, "Poetry is beyond poetry."
I'm in a daze again. This time, Jing 'an and Dustless followed closely, under the ginkgo tree at the entrance of the temple.
In the main hall, the abbot caressed his beard and looked at us silently outside the hall, as if stupefied.
After more than a dozen articles have been published one after another, after calculation, there will be a "feeling" in three to five days, and I feel that my writing is a bit astringent. Look at the words of other literary friends. With more romance and chicken soup for the soul, the honor list of poetry is as lively as ever, but few writers have made a "significant" stroke on it.
I looked at my masterpiece. I looked at the jury sitting high above, and everyone changed into a cold face, just like a primary school teacher, who drew a cold tick in my math exercise book.
Without passion, I still don't know what prose is and what poetry is. Although there are textbooks about how to write everywhere, I don't think those are the answers I want.
I asked a very good literary friend. Wenyou said, read more books. There is a golden house in the book. Without saying anything more, WeChat sent some words: "How can these people's human feelings and natural humanities be so subtle, so enthusiastic and so thorough in everyone's pen?" Of course, there are those lofty aspirations, those universal feelings, those who care for each other, or those who are forgotten in the rivers and lakes, friends of gentlemen and so on. There are different feelings and meanings, the same topics such as human feelings and friendship, and ... there are full displays and wonderful descriptions, which make readers have a * * * sound. "(Wang, the spirit of prose).
I don't give up, I just call: "I want to know how to write well." Wenyou said loudly: "Read your own things three times before publishing them. If you can't understand it once, change it. If it doesn't work twice, change. If they fail three times, tear them up! " I actually hung up the phone and refused to say more.
I deeply believe that this is the true meaning. Imagine, if you can't even understand your own work, how can it be a good work?
Haha, is this the Zen thought of "irrelevant" I was so happy that I went to tell Jing 'an. Jing An smiled and said, "Very, very, but ..."
But what? Isn't that enough?
Jing 'an took me to the harem. Behind the temple, a clear spring gurgled down like a song and dance.
Jing 'an said, "Is this spring alive?"
I replied, "Of course."
Jing 'an: "The rhythm mentioned earlier is a secret that textbooks rarely tell."
I don't understand. I don't compose music or sing. What is the use of rhythm?
"Farmers, according to the rhythm of the four seasons, are rich in food, and spring is full of twists and turns, tinkling and full of vitality. ...
"Article, lose the rhythm is boring.
"The rhythm of the text, with the ups and downs of the plot, with the ups and downs of the heartbeat, and then * * * rings. ...
I still don't understand, but I just feel that the essence of dance and writing seems to be beyond words. ...