Slow down reading and writing
Gong will
On such a human April day, many hardships and hardships arise in one place after another in the world. Seeing the pain of the epidemic, I can't help even handing a vegetable a glass of water. Do some of your duty as a reader, quietly hide in the corner, and honestly read some books. Occasionally think about it, record it casually. If there are readers who can benefit from it in the future and contribute to the transmission of civilization, it will be a time to live up to the world.
Today, I read these sentences in the "Book of Southern Qi and Literary Biography": "The way of literature, the thoughts of things, the inspiration of no image, and the endless changes." The sound of the five voices, and the words of the words; and the love of all things, and the next pen is special. I am very worried about the current online world "fast text", and some self-media have turned literature into randomly stacked words, and all the chicken feathers and offal in life are put on a certain circle and a certain sound. Even, bottomlessly flaunting personal idiosyncrasies, occupying people's audiovisual senses in virtual spaces. The flood of online texts loses its restraints, lacks aesthetics, or does not distinguish between right and wrong, and the mud and sand are all under the sand. The content is empty, the form is vulgar, and there is no thought. The teachings of the ancestors were inscribed on yellowed documents and stacked on library shelves and in bibliophiles' cupboards. Pulling away from the speeding internet world, there really aren't many people digging treasures in the old paper pile. When the ancients wrote, they needed to concentrate on meditation and meditate, and they needed to be intentional to write first. After writing, it is necessary to twist the beard and chant bitterly, to carefully consider the words and sentences, and to deliberate repeatedly. Words that have been painstakingly contemplated, one by one, are alive for thousands of years. Now the screen copywriter is full of public numbers every day, fingers move, keyboards ring, pieced together, usurp other people's texts. Thousands of words and hundreds of songs a day, "唰" a group of hair, overwhelmingly brushing the screen for a few seconds, and then overturned by the next "唰", there is no trace. Hundreds of messages per minute, how many people can remember? Who has poetry? Who wrote the real text?
The way of writing, meditating, inspiring, endless changes. The ancients said: "The form is above the river and the sea, and the heart is under the Wei Que." "For the sake of wen zhi thought, how vast it is. Silent contemplation, thinking for thousands of years; quietly moving, seeing through thousands of miles. The poems and articles created will cross time and space and be timeless. Meditation needs to slow down, and then slow down. And in an era when even counting banknotes is too slow, people's hearts are impetuous, how slow? The fastest is not only the ingredients and medicinal materials and building materials, but also the experts, scholars, poets and writers, all over the ground, more than the autumn leaves, how slow?
In the past, I was also very diligent in writing and serious in life. Today I'm still writing, I'm living seriously. But the article is generated as slowly as the pregnancy in October, and life is the soil for the article to be conceived. When life is struck into pieces, cutting through the body and cutting the soul, I still look for the cracks of affection in the cold and appeal to words. It's just that the pace has slowed down, and the heart has also slowed down. In the deserted wilderness, in the plateau of gravel and bitter cold winds, in the dead of night, look up at the stars, chase the meteors to slip down, listen to the clear and pure ethereal babbling water on the snowy plateau, and pick up a piece of moonlight sprinkling the earth's purity. The earth is so deep and the sky is so vast. Only the wind was crowded, only the gravel, even the grass and trees were far away from such an emptiness, and even the birds and finches could not fly those snowy peaks. I lay in the emptiness and vastness, turning myself into a gravel that had gone through the wind and snow of eternity, and also restoring the true smallness of a person. What a profound and mysterious proverb "Taoist nature"! Back in the crowd and the text, my eyes are no longer busy and chaotic, no longer loud and noisy. No matter how high the title is, it is just a journey experienced by others, they will be sent to a crossroads by time or situation, and the title will be worn by others. When the top of the bare head no longer has an aura, you may be able to feel the cold, warm and cold, and see the true appearance and human nature. But there are still so many people who go after the illusory aura and lose themselves in the illusory aura. At present, the writers of various online platforms who are addicted to virtual images are like carp across the river, a tide rises, a tide falls, and the "literature and pen" are wasted for fame and profit. Where are there works like "Between the Chants, the Sound of The Pearls and Jade; Before the Eyebrows, the Colors of the Wind and Clouds"?
The writer's heart is not quiet, God is restless, what is the magic of the text, the fun of reason?
I couldn't help but think of the word Kuta, and I was in awe. Because walking between the wilderness of the old street of the ancient road, at the mouth of the remote ancient village street, next to the ancient fortress temple, and on the side of the ancient road of the post station, you can occasionally find the blue-gray stone fortress or the brick six-pillar eight-pillar body. Even if it is broken, the remaining form is also clumsy and solemn, which is different from the shrine dedicated to the land in-laws at the mouth of the village next to the road, and the village elders call it "Zi Kuta". There are also cloud "word furnace" or "burning word tower" people. Ask the village man and the old woman, you can tell a legend. Roughly speaking: Wasted writing paper will produce sores, diseases, blindness, punishment and harm to future generations. All used paper or scrap books should be collected uniformly and placed in one place for centralized incineration. And after choosing a good day and auspicious day to pay homage, it is then lit and burned.
It can be seen how sacred the books and words are in the minds of the ancestors!
The reverence of the vicissitudes of the sea and the mulberry fields that remain in the folk has withered withered withered withered and withered withered, and was blocked with the rapid development of urban construction. As soaring high-rise buildings expand the scale of the city, people's hearts are squeezed into one material box after another. Transmitted on a rapidly changing time belt, deformed, discolored, and flavored...
Sit still, block out electronic sounds, and turn the yellowed pages. Read again", "The way of the text, the thoughts of things, the inspiration of no image, the endless changes." The sound of the five voices, and the words of the words; and the love of all things, and the next pen is special. ”
After the gods and things travel, they are miscellaneous.
(The author is a member of Chongqing Writers Association)
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