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"Plain living and high thinking." (Simple life, noble thinking) - Wordsworth
All the moments that have passed through this afternoon are not the usual moments, and there is only one thing that has caused this situation: the endless heat. The length of this afternoon is not only due to the fact that the sun is moving more and more toward its peak (the summer solstice), but also because of a sense of powerlessness in nature, and thus a sense of ambiguity of time. In front of me, there was this hot screen, and apart from the hot air of the fan and the shouting outside the door, there was nothing mixed with the sweat flowing.
In the shadows not far away, there was an unknown plant, and once upon a time, I inquired about its name, and when I asked a person to say that I didn't know, I stopped. For some things that can be glimpsed with a little effort, but because of its neglectful sense of existence and the arrogance and fatigue of acquiescence in the heart that "there is no need to know", it is permanently classified into the mysterious unknowable zone. The attitude of seeking evidence, like that of scientists, when existing experience contradicts the unknown, seems out of place in an age when all knowledge seems to be at your fingertips and in front of you. Yes, in this overly complex world, there is no need to know everything, and it is impossible to control everything, and the pursuit of omnipotence and understanding of all things is meaningless, and it will only lose efficiency and fall into great frustration. Even at this moment, abandoning physical feelings, abandoning inner distractions, and reading a heavy book are all activities that deplete physical and mental energy in parallel.
This unknown greenery gives a little life to the chaotic time and space, reminding me not to ignore what a leaf or a grass will bring, even if I can't construct an ideal world in the captive "third nature" like the garden philosophers, and I can't linger in the emptiness of Lake Eswaite like Wordsworth " Simple life, noble thinking " ... Not too much, there can be, such as succulents on the balcony, tea leaves in the cup, vegetable leaves in the bowl, in the same space as me, but with their own time. Unlike the running animals, these living or dying lives are always presented in nature in a silent posture, and they are also the most silent symbols of nature.
Nature always gives people an impression of vastness and immutableness, just like Hugo said: "Although human beings destroy and destroy, despite eradication and killing, summer is still summer, lilies are still lilies, and stars are still stars." "The eternity of nature is admired and awe-inspiring, even if we can use a microscope to see the clear veins of a leaf, imprison a plant in an icy container for people to play with, and classify what nature sees in a dictionary named in human language." In the past, we domesticated animals and plants to fill our stomachs, and now we distill nature into human art, and even incorporate the control of nature into a sophisticated organizational system... However, we have to admit that we still know very little about nature, still rely on it inseparably, and still need to seek refuge and redemption from it.
Icelanders' approach to overcoming loneliness sounds romantic: holding the tree, closing your eyes, sticking your face to the tree, feeling the warm current flowing from the tree to yourself, and the trees release the most energy in the summer, which people cherish. At this moment, close your eyes, imagine yourself stepping on the solid earth, listen to the clumps of leaves, hold the tree and feel the warmth of the body in its body--an inexplicable shock, which is a deep shelter that nature has its own inability to resort to words.
In the past, the British always liked to say: "We English people did not come to the world to enjoy", but also, in this cold climate, rainy and sunny, not much growth of vegetables, fruits and spices on the isolated island for generations, it takes courage. The harshness of nature shapes the character of the islanders and breeds dull and gloomy works.
Wuthering Heights (1992)
Empty wilderness, ruins of stones, howling winds, young Heathcliff and Catherine frolicking and chasing, after Catherine's death, Heathcliff wandered alone and struggled, mending broken memories under the withered dead trees, searching for the material of revenge. I seem to see in Heathcliff and Catherine the shadow of their founders, Emily Brontë, an isolated and reticent grown-up in the Yorkshire wilderness, a strange woman who has been friends with nature all her life, always taking her pet "Chipper" to the wilderness for a walk, breathing freely in the vast world, and looking for the tenacious heather flowers in the ditches. The vast and simple wilderness, there is no delicate and gentle wind and rain, no children's love of spring flowers and autumn moons, only this unruly woman who runs and shouts, listens to the deepest response of her soul in the roaring wind, and there is no destination but the wilderness.
I was obsessed with Emily's rebellious wilderness temperament, and even envied her. The wilderness, a place where free running and lonely souls can be accommodated, loneliness, in the wilderness is for enjoyment, the sense of selfless loneliness that escapes from the world and the coexistence of heaven and earth, is enough to release the wild nature and summon the free true self. It's just that today, the wilderness has become a scarce thing, and Aldo Leopold once wrote: "For those of us who have the opportunity to see geese is more important than watching television, and the opportunity to see a bald flower is like freedom of speech, an inalienable right." "Wandering through the wilderness, this primitive right is quietly stripped away, and when the wilderness no longer exists and becomes an image of mourning, perhaps people sigh again, and then look for the next remaining nature.
Emily's portrait of "Chipper"
Being trapped and being away from crowds is sometimes not all bad, but at least it allows people to jump out of the hypocritical reality of the unconscious performance, sneak into no man's land, and bow down to humblely spy on the real nature.
The young Robert Stroud was sentenced to life in prison for the crime, and the light of life was gradually extinguished. On a torrential night, an injured wet bird landed next to Stroud in prison, and after much hesitation, he decided to save the bird. After his careful care, the bird gradually healed, and the ice in his heart slowly melted. Later, during a bird plague outbreak in prison, Stroud cracked the code of the virus and successfully rescued the birds that had died one after another. Former violent prisoners who had only been in elementary school for three years began to frantically study anatomy and physics, which was also an unheard of blessing for prison. Stroud later became a well-known ornithologist, published books, and obtained the right to keep and manage canaries in prison. His legend was later chronicled by writer Tom Cadiz and made into the film Birdman of Alcatraz.
It's still unbelievable. Even after becoming famous, he still did not get out of prison, but his achievements far exceeded those of most free people. Something in his heart that had been paranoid in the past also began to shift, and this transformation came from nature, from nature's magnanimous redemption of mankind. Sometimes I think that when he realizes that he will spend the rest of his long life in this dark cage, he is really freed from the prison of the world, giving up the pursuit of all the seemingly correct comforts and beauty, and only then can he retain the purest mind to explore the truth of nature and the mysteries of the universe. Freedom is not another kind of slavery.
In the face of a cute puppy, a verdant tree, some people will still stop to admire or take photos to commemorate. Strictly speaking, even in cities, people are not insulated from nature, but the connection with nature is as good as above. Even if nature's innumerable secrets open their doors to people, for all reasons, people will still walk away with a smile. What attracts the eye to stay attractive is something meaningful and fruitful, valuable, and what they have in common is: heavy (heavy is not a derogatory term). Heavy life, heavy hope, heavy topic, heavy soul... Heavy and enjoyable. So nature is such a light thing, it is boring, it is boring, it is boring, it is not worthy, it is just a dispensable sound in a heavy life. What mysterious allegories of pansy flower juice, mycelium breaking ground hissing, Arabidopsis crazy nerves, canopy crackling sweet music... For a person who can't even tell the greenery in front of him, these are always hearsay.
Many years ago, a man found a small grass on the road that did not look like other grasses. Years later, when this man got his long-cherished wish and went for a walk in the wilderness with "Qipu", he would definitely remember the distant morning when he met the grass again.