Find paradise and remember to be happy

"In Search of Heaven" | text: Ju Xi Ju Xi

"The heart is only a quiet dialogue with the heart, and the heart will be the harbor of the heart"

/01/

Years ago, the invincible princess stubbornly guarded her fantasy sandcastle.

In her heart, a beach, a dream, a carved happiness, is a place of fun. However, looking back at the vicissitudes of the past, it has dried up; Once naïve and pure, it cannot escape the filter of time, leaving only chaos.

Where to find memories? Where to find heaven?

Dream, drink, become dreamy.

Facing the light, it is a big lake with no way forward.

The prosperity is over, and there is no trace of dreaming. Dream and stroll by the lake. Watching the dream stand on the shore of reality, as clear as the lake, flowing lightly on the surface of the water, quietly holding it, not hurriedly lost in the crevices of the rocks. Drowning three thousand, I only take one scoop to drink, dreams have ten million, I only dream once. Like a stave intoxicated by musical notes, the arc that has passed away gently ripples on the surface of the lake.

/02/

Dreams, one by one, slip away in front of your eyes, you can never pursue, you can only crouch in place and look at it.

Every covetous, hidden a dream; Every one of them is so seductive and provocative to you – and you can't decide. Floating like a dream, covering his sleeve with a smile and flicking his fingers. The fleeting dream is a moon in the water, even if you look through your eyes, you can't know its true face.

You choose one of the thousands, and finally choose what belongs to you, until you pick up the covet, only to find that what is clearly reflected inside is your eyes, and the original pupils are bright, is your dream, even the virgin dream.

You are immersed in the process of dreaming, anxious about the journey of choosing dreams, surprised by the results of dreams, where you carefully step out of a pure and fragrant future with your steps.

Remembering Ling, giving up, becoming remembered.

On the southern shore of the Great Lake is a dense plume forest, with dense layers of feathers of memory. The rain is silent, the memory is stranded, where is the memory?

Swim in the woods.

The moon sets, the clouds recede, the morning fog rises, and the feathers of memory drift slowly, following the trajectory of fate, falling into the next reincarnation. Memory is the feather, which blooms in the branches. Newborn memories, scrambling to cluster in the branches, like newly blooming flowers; And the thick memory is always hidden in that depth, and we can't find it.

The incessant wind of time always whisks away superficial memories without hurrying, while those hidden in the depths can escape from the wind and take root in our rings, and the deeper the years, the clearer it is.

There are layers of feathers scattered under the trees, and it is more comfortable to step on the soles of the feet.

People always live in good memories, do not know that time is broken, once believed in the innocence of the sky, in the river of years, has long been washed away beyond recognition, leaving only strangers.

The softness under the feet is nothing but self-consolation.

The wind rises, the feathers scatter, the fall on the ground is painful, and the reality is the destination.

Someone said: I would rather pick up a low feather, tea into wings, I want to fly!

How can loose feathers hold up your heaviness?

How can people who place their freedom and hope in their memories fly high?

Squander time, squander youth, and finally squander only pride; When pride is squandered by you, the lights of loneliness and the wind of sorrow are drinking against you as the Last Supper.

At this time, what you can't find again is the wind and snow moon lost in the memory; What cannot be expected is a reunion after a hundred years of loneliness.

All that, when you put in the feathers, is gone.

All I wanted was to stand quietly by the lake, imagining the thrill of flying feathers, and then go home and watch the sparks of life flutter and laugh at the fading grass.

/03/

Heaven is full, phlegm is exhausted, and heaven is obtained.

Lift your head, and the pure white sky will sweep you away with sorrow. Twilight is four, the clouds are low, the shear is worried, and the sister is happy in the sky.

Moon accidentally drunk, mutilated in the quiet night sky, lost the demonic wind, slept; The boat ran aground on the beach, and the cloud was lying on its body, dreaming softly.

I slept next to them too.

The moon tells me that happiness is hidden in the clouds; The wind tells me that happiness lies under the moon; The clouds told me that happiness hid in the wind.

The sky is not far away from me. I picked up a cloud, picked up a crescent moon, picked up a wisp of wind, and happiness settled in my heart.

Happiness is as simple as that.

However, there are people who do not believe in this simplicity, and they are believers in the sky, praying to the heavens and praying to the earth, but they never hope to come to Ganlin, and they have not even caught a small cloud of happiness. Someone only wants the happiness in front of him, and he chews on happiness with luxury and exaggeration all day long, and eventually, his heart will be covered by a haze, and sorrow and loneliness will grow madly.

There is a Lu surname Xiucai who said: Where does a person come from in life and where does he die?

Yeah, what does the appearance of your name mean for the world, and why are you here? The name is just a code name, you can call Zhang, you can also call Li. It's just, after getting the name, who are you?

People are too small in the world, vast sea of people, where to find a fun place to get their own true happiness?

If you can sweep away the dust from others, then let yourself out of the mud without staining.

Find a clean place, let our hurried footsteps stop, let our impetuous minds inhabit.

There, glitz has long since become a smoke cloud.

The heart is only a quiet dialogue with the heart, the heart will be the harbor of the heart, the perception is the most real self, and the encounter is the most real others.

This is heaven.

Image source network, invasion and deletion

author

Pseudonym: Ju Xi Ju Xi. Opinion on words: Words are a very magical medium of communication, all kinds of fleeting emotions

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