Qingwei | window to watch the flow of the four seasons and see the stories of the world

Wentu (mobile phone photo) | tassel

Early spring morning, slightly cold and cool.

At this time, I stood in front of the window and looked at the smoke-filled scenery outside the window.

Like smoke, light and ethereal, wisps, what a beautiful word! Just like a Jiangnan woman with a lilac sorrow, the water sleeve is fragrant, gently moving the lotus step, the eyebrows walk on top of the red dust, her light dancing clothes, swaying in the wind into a rising cloud of smoke, but this seems to be nothing, dreamy and confused around the clouds, but I don't know how many people can hold it. If anyone is lucky enough to catch it, it must be the gentleness of that bowed head.

Cangyang Gyatso said, "In addition to the affairs of the world, apart from life and death, which one is not an idle affair." "If you think about it, as he said, in addition to life and death is idle, then I am willing to always be idle and light, love myself, love life." In the spring, smell the fragrance of a hundred flowers; in the summer, bathe in the lushness; in the autumn, taste the autumn fruits; in the winter, hide and sleep, waiting for the next spring. Don't think about life and death, live without heart and lungs. Because, what comes will come, what goes will eventually go, and time will always watch the sinking of sentient beings silently from the outside. I think that the best existence, apart from forgetting, is to live happily. Isn't it?! The direction of all life will eventually come together, and no one can change it. Everyone has their own story, every day is non-renewable, you need to write and taste with your heart, don't care too much about the ending of your own story, everything is natural. Cherishing what you have and living in the moment is a kind of beauty.

The scenery outside the window is nothing more than two pictures of things and people - the sky, the earth, trees, buildings, and the flowing figures. However, every time you look at it, you will have a different feeling, just like looking at the kaleidoscope, every time you see the picture is never the same, and the feeling of the moment is naturally different.

The sky that can be seen as soon as you look up is like hiding a great secret, who can see the heavenly machine? It has never been a static blue sky and white clouds. Or azure, or gray, or gray, or gray, or the darkness of "black clouds pressing down on the city to destroy", or blue and white gray and black mixed can not be called by name. The color of the sky is like the curtain behind the drama stage, and with the different plots, it changes the background picture of one frame after another.

The weather is nothing but cloudy, the sky is dark and bright, and life is nothing more than gain and loss and dispersion. The same is change, the difference between heaven and man is the difference between "illusion" and "change", objective and subjective. The sky changes, and people can do nothing but let it go--the Dao Fa is natural. The transformation of life, happiness on the left or on the right, to some extent can be controlled by people themselves - whose territory is in charge. But the reality is that in this chaotic earthly world, it seems that everyone is willing to become the one who controls the fate, but in the end, few people can get god's favor.

As far as the eye can see, there are ginkgo biloba, green tree, bauhinia tree, willow tree, poplar tree, magnolia, purple weed, pomegranate, big leaf Privet and cypress tree. In spring, the white magnolia flowers bloom brilliantly and stand out from the crowd, while the rose red bauhinia blossoms are extravagant and crowded together. Fluttering the wings of the nose, the faint fragrance of the dark fragrance floating, making people sway, and a smile like a flower will soon bloom on the lips. In summer and autumn, all kinds of trees are rich and leafy, such as the shade of the covered trees, which is often a good place for the elderly to gather and nag and the stronghold for children to gather and play. In winter, only the leaves of the big-leaved Privet and cypress trees are still silently clinging to the branches, listlessly dark green, and most of the other trees are withered, leaving only bare branches, reaching out to the sky lonely.

In a person's life, why not be as good as the trees of the four seasons! Spring is the childhood of the flower, as carefree and happy as the flowers; summer, is the youth of the wind, like the branches and leaves of the sky vigorous growth; autumn, is a calm and indifferent middle age, like a fruit ripe melon and fall safely; winter, is the wind candle that understands life, and naturally falls with the wind like the fallen leaves.

The flowers of that season are happy enough when they bloom and fall and flourish, and the taste of the fruit entrance will certainly not be only sweet, how can the natural silence of the leaves falling back to the roots be only sad? The difference is that trees can be reincarnated in four seasons, and the spring breeze blows and grows again. And life is just a one-way journey, there is no next life, which will be reincarnated!

The scenery outside the window, if it is unchanged, is only the window of the room that looks like a high and low cabinet and a matchbox. Matchbox, containing fire, contains hope, shows light, transmits warmth, and metaphorically burns their own warmth to benefit others' selfless dedication. The meaning of home is nothing more than that. At this time, the high and low cabinet-like buildings were quietly lying in the arms of the morning sun, the building was asleep, the people in the box were also asleep, and the whole community was in a silent sleep.

The chirping of a string of roosters, drifting in the gentle breeze of the morning with the fragrance of grass, was like a stone thrown into the calm lake, stirring up small waves, and the surface of the water rippled one after another. In an instant, the solidification in this silence was broken, and the water was heard singing, the wind was laughing, and the cries of the birds were heard... The rhythm of life naturally knocks on matchbox doors and windows, popping up the life of flowing water. Some waves are not alarming, and some waves are rolling up. No matter the ups and downs, they all run day and night, and they are endless.

The occasional scream from the swings of the convenience gym, hidden in the bushes, makes the birds in the bamboo forest next to it make a "fluttering" sound from time to time. Everyone has their own childhood experiences, like children on a swing and birds that make a rattling sound, which may be a comfortable scream of happiness or a frightened wordless flight.

A young man and woman dressed in brightly colored couple costumes whispered and hugged each other, like two flower butterflies flying in the grass. Every butterfly has its own spring, just as everyone has their own love, which makes people feel warm. I remember an afternoon like this a few years ago: under the sun, gardenias blooming, next to the station, a shy girl, encountered four eyes, love at first sight. I remember a sunny morning after the rain, the emerald green mountains are deep and silent, the clouds and smoke swirl in the valley, and the happiness is like flowers, we are like butterflies chasing and playing on the rugged stone paths, and the afterglow of cheerful laughter is like yesterday's dream. Spread out the palms, as if there is still the warmth of the handshakes at that time, but time is like quicksand, and the past has quietly fallen from between the fingers, there is no trace, only the tragic white palm is like a defeated magnolia petal...

In this world, no matter how beautiful things or unbearable the past, they will become the past with the passage of time, will fall into the ordinary, and finally be shelved by memory. Time is like a river, and the advantage of its non-stop is that there is encounter, there is you and me; there is encounter, there is love and hate; there is encounter, there is past; there is encounter, there is poetry. Therefore, no matter what kind of encounter, we must cherish it. Knowing how to be grateful and living with heart is king.

Because, the day will one day take everything away, whether you want it or not, whether you are ready or not.

A group of roller skaters chirped past my eyes, like a row of waves with white waves suddenly coming and passing, leaving a quieter view of the path. Can't help but think of those lost years, holding a lot of green onion years in their hands, wantonly wandering in the morning light and twilight rain, coming and going, gathering and dispersing, laughing and crying, loving and hating... In the comings and goings, he grew old and lost his virginity. How can time be so confusing? How can the years be so cruel? In fact, it is not terrible to be old, it is not terrible to be separated, once the skylight of virginity is closed, it is the most terrible thing in life.

An old white-haired couple came into my sight: my husband pushed a three-wheeled seat car, limping and moving stiff steps, staggering. The wife followed closely with a thermos cup in her hand, and whispered "Slow down" as she walked. They went one after the other, one tall and one short, one fat and one thin, expressionless, and speechless. Only the Beijing opera singing section from the tricycle seat made the cold air that seemed to freeze seem to be much smoother at once. Suddenly, I felt a gentle wind, wrapped in a faint plum fragrance. I don't know their stories, and I don't need to know them. At this time, the warm melody of "Until we can't go anywhere in our old age, you still regard me as a treasure in the palm of your hand...", I followed their backs to the far side of the path with a pair of confused eyes, into the depths of time.

What a journey of life it was—she dragged him slowly through like a child, and he obeyed and obeyed. The eye sockets are hot and hot, and there is a gushing sound in the heart that is gently impacting. There is no perfect journey in life, as long as you can accompany the person who shares your happiness and suffering to breathe together and walk through your own life in peace, it is the most perfect and happiest life worth celebrating.

Every experience is worth savoring – worth it or not, wrong, eternal.

A slender, restrained black cat flashed along the path like a ghost, leaving me with a deep look. I've never liked cats very much, and I don't know if its barking is too cold and miserable, or if its eyes are too elusive. In short, when I see a cat, I have a creepy feeling. Some people say that the cat's eyes are mysterious, they are Buddha-like eyes. My wisdom is still shallow, and I can't understand it. Sub-fish, know-it-all fish. Everyone lives not only in appearance, but also in the true and false nature and bitterness of the essence, only they know it, and they know it coldly and warmly. Therefore, whether you understand or not, life still needs to be experienced and quietly realized by yourself.

The sun sets, and in the orange twilight, looking at the smoke-like scenery outside the window, a dead leaf occasionally falls silently on the deep path, as if there is a scattered time falling sporadically. In fact, the mountains and rivers in the world are not chaotic. Everyone is also within the established range, and life and old age and illness meet farewell. Everyone in this world is a bystander and a bystander, don't be superstitious and different, they are all mortal flesh, and they are lucky enough to be born as human beings, don't desire to have the whole world, don't try to have other people's souls, and have your own heart that is always good and beautiful. People can miss a lot in their lives, but don't miss the true love in your heart. There is a poem cloud "If you bloom, the breeze will come", so I also imitate a poem "If love blooms, the beauty comes from it." "The most beautiful mood must be to have a Buddha's heart that looks at flowers and blossoms." I knew I couldn't be a Buddha, but I could smile with a smile on my face.

Outside the window, the smoke-filled scenery continues to play out, and I am just a spectator.

Suddenly I remembered the sentence on Bian Zhilin's "Broken Chapter", "You stand on the bridge and look at the scenery, and the people who watch the scenery look at you from upstairs." The bright moon decorates your window, you decorate other people's dreams. "Inside and outside the window, the angle is different. See, the corners of the mouth are upturned, like a spring breeze. Invisible, heart full of light, secretly warm.

All walking will leave a mark, just as all stories will have an ending, and there is no need to ask where to go. Everything is nothing more than the past; you and I are passers-by of time.

February is not yet central.

On the way to spring, learn to make a sunflower.

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