Whether a person has a soul after death, I believe many people are half-convinced, because there is no evidence. Although people are very spiritual, due to the grinding of reality, spirituality is gradually covered;
So when you open your eyes to see things, spirituality doesn't work, you need to see "facts", you need a so-called "scientific" empirical evidence, in order to believe everything.
From this point of view, man himself is indeed degenerating, and needs to use external means to face the world, so science and technology are becoming more and more developed; however, the result of the development of this civilization is the destruction of the place where it lives, so it is necessary to reshuffle the cards...
Whether people have a soul or not, you can explore. Here, I forward a story of her own experience written by Lin Qingxia, which was written on June 3 after the Wenchuan earthquake, after she read Ni Kuang's article published in the Ming Pao Monthly Magazine.
Make a "Covenant of Life and Death"
After reading the 509th issue of the Ming Pao Monthly In May, Ni Kuang's article "Counting The Flow of The Wind and the Flow of The People- The Long Gully Flowing Moon Goes Silent". The text mentions that Sanmao and he and Gu Long have inexplicable problems with death, but they believe that people must have souls after death, so they made a "covenant of life and death".
"Whoever dies first of the three needs to make every effort to contact and communicate with people to solve the mystery of The Shadow." As a result, Gu Long walked dashingly, forgot the agreement before his death, and not long after Sanmao also died, which also disappointed Ni Kuang, and even dreamed of not giving a gift.
Sanmao not only had an agreement with Gu Long and Elder Brother Ni, but she and I, as well as Yan Hao, had also had a "covenant of life and death".
Sanmao is actually very beautiful:
It must have been the fall of 1988. Yan Hao asked Me and Sanmao to have dinner, and Sanmao drank a lot that night. After the meal, we went to a place where there was an old grandmother's bone bed for tea.
The three of us sat cross-legged on the bone dong bed and chatted, and Sanmao was talking to us while scribbling on her big notebook, which I thought was a little strange, but I didn't take it seriously.
Yan Hao asked, "What are you writing?" She smiled, "I'm talking to Jose." (Jose, her Spanish husband, was killed in a diving, she laughed as she drew and told us what Jose had said.
She talked about asking the medium to take her for a walk in Hades, so the three of us began to study what it felt like to be "dead," and finally it was agreed that if one of the three of us died first, we would have to tell the other two what it felt like to die.
When I got home that night, around 12 o'clock, Yan Hao called me and said that Sanmao had fallen on the stairs, broken his ribs, and his lungs were punctured, and he was in the hospital.
Yan Hao asked us to meet that day because he wanted to ask Sanmao to write a script for me and let him direct it. Sanmao fell, and I think the script was ruined. Unexpectedly, Yan Hao said: "This is actually good, she can take advantage of the time to heal at home to write the script." ”
The birth of rolling red dust
After being discharged from the hospital, Sanmao returned to the small four-story apartment on Ning'an Street in Taipei, because the small apartment did not have an elevator, she was injured and could not go downstairs, and she needed to be delivered by her family every day. I wanted to visit her and read the script at the same time, but Sanmao insisted on waiting until the script was finished before inviting me to her house.
When the call finally came, I carried two boxes of pineapple puff pastry upstairs, and she thoughtfully placed the pineapple puff pastry on the small coffee table on the left hand side, and even said that she liked to eat pineapple crisp the most.
I sat down on the coffee table and browsed the neatly arranged books on the shelves opposite, and she noticed that I was looking at the neatly arranged books, and she said that sometimes she would deliberately disrupt the books so that they would taste good.
When I sat down, she read the script to me page by page, as if she had become a person in the play. When she needed music, she played the songs of that era and danced with it.
I'm sure no one will have my experience reading scripts like this. Because of her painstaking writing and wholehearted devotion, there is a "rolling red dust";
Also because of "rolling red dust", I won the Best Actress Award at the 27th Golden Horse Awards in 1990, which is also the only Golden Horse Award in my 22-year acting career.
Lin Qingxia was also very beautiful when she was young:
Without Sanmao, I wouldn't have won this award, but she made me. When I received the award on stage, I really wanted to ask her to come on stage and share this honor with me, but I didn't do it.
This regret still exists in my heart 20 years later. We had made an appointment, and she had taken me wandering and traveling together, but in the end she was deterred, on the grounds that she thought I was too sensitive to detect her thoughts.
Usually when I meet with a person, it is easy to remember the dress of the other person, but it is different from Sanmao. I was attracted to her charm.
Her soft and amorous voice, her delicate and sensitive to emotions, her desperate pursuit of the love she yearns for, she also likes to talk about the love and hatred of the world and the joy and sorrow.
Although we didn't see each other more than 10 times, she brought me strong feelings every time, and not long after the Golden Horse Awards, before I could thank her, she left.
Sanmao promised things
Looking back now, on the night she was leaving, I called her home, the phone rang for a long time and no one answered, the next morning, because of something called to the Veterans General Hospital to find a friend, I was shocked to hear that Sanmao was in the bathroom of the ward, ending her romantic life with stockings.
Not long after she left, I received a phone call at three o'clock in the middle of the night, and the other party crisply shouted: "Qingxia! Then the voice gradually turned from strong to weak: "My head hurts, my head hurts, I..."
I wondered, who the hell is playing a prank? Three more midnight.
Until now no one has admitted who made the call. It sounded a lot like Sanmao. Later, I mentioned this matter to Huang Chen, and Huang Zhun said, "Then you can burn a few 'Bi Li Pain' to her." ”
Another time, I was in a dream, I saw the window, letters and manuscripts falling down, I felt that it was her, I thought, she probably did not want to scare me, but in an indirect way to convey the information to me;
Timid, I did not dare to accept it, and repeatedly said "Oh Ma Ma Mi Mi" in my mouth to end this dream. Later, I regretted why I didn't first look at what was written in the letter and the manuscript paper.
In June 1991, I was in Paris, France, and my friend Shen Yun went to Egypt on a trip, when Teresa Teng was also in Paris, and we asked her to go with us, and she said that it was very gloomy there, and advised us not to go.
I remember the first night I arrived in Cairo, I called her and asked her to think again, but she still advised us to turn back. That night, Shen Yun and I slept in a single bed with a wicker chair on the right side of the bed.
In my dream, I clearly saw Sanmao sitting on a wicker chair, her long straight hair in the middle, a big red flowing dress, sitting there dignified and looking at me, as if she was a little angry with me.
As soon as I saw her, I was glad that she wasn't dead, and then I thought, no! Immediately say "Om Ma Ma Mi Mi" and I woke up. Is Sanmao keeping her promise? A message was conveyed to me, but I was never afraid to face it.
Actor Yan Hao is also handsome:
I've always had this mystery in mind. A few years later, I met Yan Hao at a party and asked him if Sanmao was trying to tell me anything. Yan Hao, who believes in Taoism, stared at the round and large eyes and said easily and decisively: "It doesn't matter at all!" ”
Since then, I have never dreamed of Sanmao again. After Sanmao left, I always wanted to write an article to remember her, and I didn't know where to write, this time I saw Ni Kuang's article, I felt something, and only then recorded the fragments of my interaction with her.
Martin Press:
The following is an essay on Sanmao that I published in a certain journal, "The Chengdu Image of Sanmao", put it here for everyone to read-
In the autumn of 1990, I heard a friend say that Sanmao came to Chengdu, and I wanted to pay a look at this female talent who was famous for "Sahara love", only because I was busy writing something for my livelihood at that time, and my daughter was about to be born.
My daughter Mido was born at the end of November of that year, and unexpectedly, only 1 month and 5 days later, that is, on January 3, 1991, there was suddenly bad news: Sanmao committed suicide!
Sanmao has "wandered" through 54 countries in her lifetime, and has traveled to more cities, and Chengdu is the last cultural ancient city with a long history on her mainland trip in this life;
The ancient charm of the old houses in the wide and narrow alleys and willow shade streets has added a touch of late autumn melancholy to her fading romantic life.
It was the early 1990s, the wide and narrow alleys were still the same, and Liuyin Street was not demolished, maintaining its ancient style.
That autumn, Sanmao came, on the afternoon of September 21, the sky sprinkled a little warm sunshine, Sanmao on a whim, pushed off the afternoon two activities, under the leadership of local photographer Xiao Quan, went to kuanzhai alley and Liuyin Street.
Chengdu photographer Xiao Quan also has a type:
The old street, the old house, attracted this talented girl who dressed casually and casually, with her hair coiled, like Duras.
The patios of those old houses, the flower carvings of the eaves, the glow of the moss on the green brick walls, and the cats that sneaked silently under the walls all revealed a kind of ancient charm of a long time;
All this made this female talent from Taiwan feel like she had found roots in a trance, and made her completely revel in this dream-like scene.
Coming out of a tea house, there is a shop with a closed door, an old-fashioned bamboo chair is buckled upside down by the door, she simply takes off her shoes, puts her satchel casually, sits barefoot on the ground, with her back against a bamboo chair, a cigarette in her hand, her hair is scattered and hanging down her shoulders, her eyes are melancholy, and her smile is as bright as the sun...
The kind of style of the old house's ancient charm can sometimes make people feel the soul.
For example, when I was a child, I lived with my mother in an old house. There were several teachers living in the mansion, and according to my mother, it was a former mansion of Liu Wenhui.
The architectural style of the old house is very special, it is a typical courtyard style, there is a front yard and a backyard, the front yard is composed of a two-compartment and a partial room, called a quadrangle, there is a patio in the courtyard, and there is a ventilation opening behind the house, forming a quiet wind through the hall.
The big house where my family lived, it was warm in winter and cool in summer, the ceiling was dark green paint, the floor was vermilion paint, several large windows were all carved, my mother also made a screen at the door, put a high coffee table next to the screen, placed a vase on the coffee table, and was full of fragrant flowers all year round.
Outside the patio courtyard, planted with plum trees, apple trees, the corner in front of my house is planted with osmanthus trees, every autumn, the fragrance of osmanthus flowers floats in the courtyard, leaving a deep impression in my childhood memories; until I grow up, whenever I smell the osmanthus flowers, I will remember the scene of my childhood.
The eaves porch outside the room is arched and painted with painted paintings, and the colonnade is used to connect the various boxes, but on the outside, it can be cleverly connected to the neighborhood. The tiles of the roof are blue-gray, the walls are painted gray brick, the beams and columns are gray-brown, and the doors and windows are painted brown;
There is also a small gatehouse, known as the "Dragon Gate", which is solemn in color, with reliefs on both sides but not color, integrating the environment into one, which is a model of more prominent elegance in western Sichuan.
Living in such an old mansion, when the autumn moon hangs high in the air full of cold stars, listening to the old man tell about the white fox immortals in the Temple of Literature next door to the old mansion, haunting the main hall at night, or lying on the pointed eaves of the star gate, that mysterious expectation, that inexplicable fear, are embedded in the gully of the soul together with the ancient rhyme of these old mansions.
Sanmao is a person with a sensitive artistic temperament, and the style of these old streets and ancient houses in Chengdu will naturally be captured by her. The bluestone slabs, the man-made three-wheeler, and the lid bowls of tea from the old tea shop all converged into an ancient relic, which fascinated her deeply and made her soul sleep in a labyrinth of historical reincarnation.
All are handsome men and beautiful women:
Presumably, in her mind, the reliefs on the gray wall, the large red qipao that flashed in the opening of the door, would make her imagination plant brilliant wings; even if she held an invisible wind in the air, she could smell the mellow aroma of ancient and ancient history.
Today, Sanmao is gone, and the Liuyin Street where she went is no longer seen, and the transformed wide and narrow alleys, although more glamorous and popular, the style of the strand has gradually faded;
The cat under the grass at the root of the wall is no longer there, but the little foreign dog is on its toes, stepping on the footprints of its fashionable owner, shuttling through this new ground with a strong commercial flavor.
Today, I walk in the wide and narrow alleys with a lang dang camera, and in the distance where people are crowded, I seem to be able to see a figure of Duras with his hair coiled, flashing back in the ancient charm of these old houses.
Or, in one place, where sanmao's footprints were covered under the newly laid bluestone slabs, it still seemed to be singing along brick by brick, singing the enduring old charm of the old house and the classic historical sound...
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