In recent years, I have loved using the few remaining words to write something that doesn't make sense, expressing emotions that don't make sense. First, I will put up two random texts that I wrote last month for everyone to ridicule and play with.
The trees move and the leaves fall, all sounds are silent, and I am alone in the empty mountains playing the flute. The sound of bamboo is crisp, the sound of the wind is towering, and the melody is drunk and disappears.
In an instant, the leaves move and the grass is surprised, and the strange shadows are heard with a faint flute. The heart of the tree moves, the evil spirits scatter, and the obstacles of karma are broken.
The blue flowers cast a shadow on the embankment, the sparse trees in the empty mountains, and I watch my friends leave from the sky. Who is watching, the silk braid sways in the mundane world.
The parasol tree locks the spring and autumn, it is already pushed away, and the solitary brilliance recedes in the rain. I once thought, can Shi An dare to come and disturb me?
The texts I wrote can be said to be incomprehensible, and the background of the texts is based on something very strange, and the allusions are also used randomly. Appreciation is not for these two paragraphs, and the explanation is just for my own amusement.
Recently, my mother has been enjoying reading my blog, at least on the surface. When she came to visit me this Monday, she mentioned the comments on my own blog. To be honest, I didn't pay attention to it at first. She told me before that sometimes she has nothing to do and reads all of my articles.
I vaguely remember that she used to write QQ space logs, but now it seems like a waste of time. However, she seems to "treat differently" when it comes to my blog. We watched our parents' figures go far, far away, and our parents watched our figures go far, far away. Some people say that it's enough to watch their figures and "no need to chase". In fact, they are also quietly watching our figures, and we can't chase after them.
At this time, I just read Zhou Guoping's "Reflections on Life Philosophy". Based on the more than one hundred pages I have read so far, some of it resonated with me, some made me even more melancholic, and some made me dream in a way I had never dreamed before. Speaking of melancholy, my Chinese teacher introduced us to the concept of "character" before, and I have never asked my parents if I have a character, because I was not born into a big family, so it's probably not possible. So I planned to choose one for myself. My Chinese teacher didn't have one either, and I didn't dare to choose one for myself, for fear of choosing poorly. But as a newborn calf, I am not afraid of tigers or choosing poorly. With a big stroke of the pen, I chose the two characters "Yu Zhi". Although this method of choosing is not in accordance with the usual practice, I heard that this thing is chosen by parents, and choosing it yourself can only be called a nickname. But considering the playful nature of my choice, it can be largely ignored. The so-called "Yu" character is the "Yu" of "Yu Dafu" and "Melancholy", and of course it can also be said to be the "Yu" of "Depression". The so-called "Zhi" character means "watching the old branches sprout new buds". If you say it is a combination of pessimism and optimism, I don't think it's appropriate. At most, it is a pessimist wearing the shell of optimism.
I just made some modifications to the article I wrote before, "Death and Failure", and this week I also added a random article feature to the website, hoping that everyone can read my previous articles, and I hope I can read my previous articles as well. Finally, I end with a quote from Zhou Guoping.
What in the world is not a past? At this moment, everything I see, hear, and experience is fleeting and becomes the past. Therefore, those who cherish the past look at everything with love and affection, looking at the wheat fields about to be harvested, the trees shedding their leaves, the last blooming flowers, and the pedestrians aging as they walk on the road. This feeling of reluctant farewell to all things is the deepest source of love. It is because of this love that a person will watch, listen, and live with all their heart.