It seems that I have always been accustomed to the fact that all external events begin within the spirit.
During the Spring Festival, I embarked on a trip to Europe. For me, who travels almost to carry the whole home on my back, the trip outside is almost just a "sport" for me, and my spiritual journey is that after I return home, I meet the familiar study desk and chair, reunite with the Longjing green tea I am used to, and even put on clean and soft cotton home clothes, my spiritual journey seems to have just begun.
Yesterday I read a passage from Sartre and was deeply touched. He said: "I respect the rules of life that an old man on the left teaches me through his mannerisms. Truth and fiction are the same thing, and in order to feel passionate, one has to pretend to be enthusiastic. People have taught me that we are in the world to act out for each other... I played an "unreal protagonist".
A lot of times, people live in their own imaginations.
For example, Luxembourg, where I went. In Paris, which is more prosperous and dreamlike, and the crowds are like shuttles, I especially prefer Luxembourg, which is an elegant, deserted, idle and rich town, which is a place where you can read and think, and you can love a person deeply. Walking on the wet and quiet stone path, on both sides of the road are subtle and elegant fashion commodity windows and flowers that attack people, as well as the deep and low bells from the church in the evening, which spread throughout the town, walking in such sounds and visions, people can meet with the heart and soul, and I feel sad all the way in my heart... Comparatively speaking, there are some places around us that are magnificent, glittering, noisy, and most importantly, the universal human environment, really like an "upstart"! I miss Luxembourg dearly and look forward to meeting him again!
But at my family gathering the other day, my brother-in-law said that what they saw was not exactly what I had described, but like a suburb of Beijing. Later, we asked each other where we had been and found that the places we had been to were probably completely forked in the road. In hindsight, perhaps not only because of the fork in the road, there was another problem— that is: the Luxembourg I saw was the Luxembourg I wanted to see, the Luxembourg I had fantasized about in my mind.
On that evening in the small streets of Luxembourg, a few of our companions were very far apart from each other, and I was walking in reality, but my mind was completely in a trance of "wandering". Such a warm and elegant scenery, such a pious whispering church bell, my mind was chaotically meditating: this is the small town I want to live in, people have faith so they are bound, there is a bottom line of morality, deeds, and words, that will be the most basic sense of security. I don't need a huge society, a lot of acquaintances, a lot of fame, and a huge family fortune, just have a close person here, and we talk, live and wait warmly, enough!
At this time, Luxembourg has become my dream, it has nothing to do with whether it is true or not, it has nothing to do with whether it is true or not! It is merely a reverie of deficiency.
What I see is what I aspire to see!
I would also like to say that here, I become part of the "landscape", and the me you see is the me you want to see. So Sartre said, I played an "unreal protagonist."
What each of us sees with each other may only be what we want to see.
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