Everyone who is alive seems to have their own life. What is life? Most people never think of it, even "life" doesn't often think of it. I'm talking about leaving my life and looking at my life. Living people seldom do this, because they are either philosophers or fools. "Philosopher" is not human nature in biology. It is too far away from the animality of biological nature, and its scarcity shows the cleverness and solemnity of nature. Because what nature needs is that people can't leave animals before spreading seeds. Although there are joys and sorrows, most of them come from small gains and losses in life, hoping to be supplemented and adjusted from small gains and losses. If a person pursues abstraction, the result will not go against nature, but will inevitably ignore nature, and the concept will hurt himself and confuse society. Because in the pursuit of the "meaning" of life, it will inevitably conflict with all established orders. In the same situation, this brain and hand can interact, or become a thinker and artist, and brain and behavior can interact, or become a revolutionary. If you can't use each other, it will cause division, and finally this person will become crazy. In fact, the abstract thinking of philosophers or lunatics that violates biological principles and denies natural order has exactly the same meaning.
I'm going crazy. Fascinated by abstraction. I see some symbols, a shape, a string, a piece of silent music and poems without words. I see a most complete life form, all of which exist in abstraction, but disappear in front of the facts.
Who can use bamboo as a bow and arrow to shoot into the clouds and never fall? My imagination, like a long arrow, shoots into the sky and never returns. What the long arrow records is in the vast void of blue and tranquility.
A wise man can read a short article from this misty sky by making good use of his wisdom, including sigh and silence, color and fragrance, love and resentment. No author's name. No years. No story. No ... but the content is extremely soft. Void is silent, and there is music in the reader's soul. The void is bright and blue, but the reader's soul is bright and clean.
There is a slope on the stone road in front of the gate. The slope is shaded by trees, with long stems and weak branches and green leaves, such as green flowers, feathers and flags. There are always mountain spirits, showing their waist and white teeth, coming and going. All the people I met were dumb. Love can make people silent, and a language sings death. "Love and death are neighbors."
However, abstract love can also make people super-living. Patriotism also requires life, and only energetic people can be patriotic. People castrated like temples have no love, are enthusiastic about the country and appearance, are careless about things, have no feelings for people, and are extremely afraid of ideals. He also married and had children, taught knowledge, and was an official at meetings, but he was always a eunuch in his mental state. Tell the eunuch this, of course, there is no way to understand.
The dream at night is very strange. I saw a pale green and white flower with a weak neck and a soft flower. The flower body has slight spots and bruises and is slightly shaken by the door. There seems to be a familiar voice greeting in an unknown place:
"You see, there should be planetesimals in the flowers. Take a closer look. "
So I reached out and touched it. Flowers tremble slightly, if you are afraid. Smile again, if you have something to lean on. Gently touch the stems, pedicels and petals. Some leaves fell off near the flowers.
If you smell a sigh, it is deep and clear.
After the thunderstorm. I woke up and smelled a dog barking in the distance. Bark like a leopard. Semi-confused state in bed meditation, feel extremely disappointed. Because Bai Lianhua was swinging by the door, it was impossible to shake or laugh when he was touched!
After getting up, I wrote down the process and treated a piece of jade with semi-relief, such as jade work and cutting and grinding. When finished, it looks like a small ornament on the fireplace. Exquisite as porcelain, simple as bamboo.
Most people like to measure this person's moral level by his education and status. Especially when it comes to sexual morality. Actually, it's hard to say. We should laugh at some people, but society often respects them, such as Yan Temple. Some people we should praise, but society thinks they are evil, such as honesty. As usual, most people express ideas contrary to the facts. Most people are willing to remain safe or self-sufficient in hypocrisy. So I burned the manuscript. I am not afraid of society. I hate society and hypocrites. I don't want this perfect poem to be defiled by hypocrites and sexy women.
White flowers are extremely quiet. Very quiet in image.
In the valley, there should be a white lotus with light blue stripes, a weak neck and long pedicels, speechless, fragrant and pale, with a beautiful trunk. The pollen is yellow and the leaflets are as green as grass.
Francois once wrote a story, Red and White, which described the position of love in life, all its forms and its subtle changes. I want to write "Green and White" to express images in form.