Absolutely loud
I found a topic to do, and in the end I couldn't write the article. There is so much missing material in the middle that the conjugations rely more on imagination. The more imagination, the greater the reliability. I had to put my pen on the shelf – I've met this ending several times. From the few notches on the tortoiseshell and the ink marks on the bamboo wood, I have always felt that there are enough broken, which also affects the images of their past lives, which is inevitably too pale.
Even more missing than this residue is sound. The origin of sound predates words. At that time, what was the sound of people, no different from animals, or slightly different? Lü's Spring and Autumn says: The joy of the Xige Tianshi, the three people the oxtail, throw enough to sing eight songs, and quoted Zhai Zhai as saying: Those who lift the big wood, the former call for public opinion, the latter should also be.. What a sound this is. Is it rough and heroic, or is it squeezed by the weight of labor and stagnant? When I see today's grand ceremony being recorded, I will once again fly my mind and perch on the ritual hymns of the early years of the Western Zhou Dynasty. This is what makes me different from ordinary people - ordinary people like the "wind", and I like the "ode". I imagined that the solemnity and piety of that occasion must exceed that of some grand occasions today, and I would not have had strange thoughts on such occasions. Then, how does this song of worship and sacrifice begin and end, and sing it to me. No one can answer me. They have long since dissipated with the end of the rituals of the time, and cannot be contained and solidified. The sound of wings, generated from the movements of the blowers and singers, and from the chest cavity, quickly fell and dissolved, and there was no way back, nor any fence to intercept. They melt into the interior of time and become an irretrievable beauty. Even if we turn back time and see that the matter that is fading with the day is reduced to new in the stillness, it is absolutely impossible to restore the timbre and sound quality of the time - nothingness, this is the sound, its invisible and irrepressible, far more fragile and ethereal than these broken, rusty and heavy things in front of us.
The morning sun brushed the ground together, neatly like the tide that gradually invaded the shore at high tide. Many sounds have risen one after another, and the wilderness and jungle in the middle of summer have become loud and gathered. The changing seasons, the constantly changing sounds, coming and going, are all arranged in order. In my listening, I experienced that all things in a very short life, using sounds to prove that they once existed. Every living species carries the piano room with it, waiting for the time to play. The air was torn and collided by different piano sounds, and the night rose and rose against the setting sun, and another group of piano players played. From my life experience, I thought I had heard more of the wilderness. If the sound of years passing water is compared with the era of the Book of Poetry, who can say how many have disappeared forever.
Countless man-made sounds, countless sounds of children of nature, have become absolute when we learn to listen and are willing to cherish. The ruins of the monument are broken, because the legacy is reminiscent, fortunately time has not yet turned them into powder, and the sound makes our listening disoriented - the sky is so vast and silent, it means the helplessness of hearing. But I can say that the sound of the long ago must have been divided into generations, which is a bit like facing the text of the old Chinese, constantly using rhyme transformation, constantly pointing to the transformation of word meaning, constantly changing the form of speech. Piled up in front of the present people, people are timid, and they don't know how to pronounce it. The combination of the two makes people feel the beauty of the outside and the richness of the meaning. Guided by the sound, we grasp the emotional vein, and even the skin will touch the softness or toughness of this mood. In terms of many auditory tendencies, the afterglow is even more obsessive than the core part of the whole piece, capturing the afterglow of the wisps that are about to drift away, and the heart follows, holding its breath. Sometimes, the breath of a dynasty is not revealed by Huang Zhong Da Lu, but some intermittent remnants, not from the court, but by the folk music hall overflowing - it is difficult to find a few lines of music score from the yellowed paper, there is no front guidance, there is no continuation of the back, standing alone. Humming softly, very short, someone asked, what is this tone, the color is so old.
In many ancient compounds, it is inevitable to leave a space for the stage. Of all the tunes, what I like is the long tone — the afterglow goes around the beam, and only the long tone can be lifted lightly. A play, a few days later, the people in the courtyard are still excited, learning the gesture of fluttering long sleeves, learning the singing voice of the mournful warbler, and chasing the scene that has disappeared. The troupe went far and arrived on time on the stage of another village or a certain compound. The suitcase of the costume was opened again, and the bundled knives and guns were in their hands, this time singing the same repertoire as the day before yesterday, always taking turns in a small performance range. Sing thoroughly, skip the rehearsal process, lean on, smoke and drink tea and laugh. No one knows whether tonight's singing voice is more refreshing and moist than the previous night. Only I knew, perhaps, for a moment, the moment I opened my mouth, homesickness rushed up, thinking of the empty wife and daughter leaning on the door, and making a sound to see the dry rope. The rain came and went, the characters were old, the team was scattered, and there was no longer such a figure on the mountain road. Faster than that disappeared was the tone, and now, no one can remember what was being sung at the time.
There is always some land, in the old days, a large number of active figures of predecessors have accumulated. This land was pioneered and valued earlier than others, then, the personnel was complicated, the hegemony was prosperous, and the war was endless. The noise is incomparable, boiling and overlapping. In the dusk, climb this pouring base, the grass and trees are dry, the scorpions and tigers are infested, and there is a gentle sound in the trance, like the wind blowing, intentionally stopping to listen, for a long time, but nothing. At this time, the sky was dark.
Many of the sounds are buried deeper into the depths of time than the remaining pieces of paper. It cannot be revived, and my fascination is here.
Ancient ferry
This ancient ferry has been unknown for many years. In the days I have passed, it has always been full of life and noise, like the flowing water of the ancient ferry.
In those days, there was not a single bridge on the river, and it was crossed back and forth by a wooden boat, all year round. The pebbles at the feet of Gudu were always polished by the grass shoes of the peasants who carried heavy burdens on their shoulders. When the boat had not yet arrived, they sat on the pebbles, smoking dry cigarettes, chatting about mulberry and spicy, or talking about meat and vegetables, which caused a burst of laughter. Gudu is the temporary berth of these laborers, where they can calmly lay down their heavy burdens and expect the wooden boats on the other side to plow and ripple, and the sound of oars slowly coming. The sturdy man who punched the boat was undoubtedly the most popular, and the people waiting for the boat called his nickname from afar, urging him to hold faster. Especially on the day of the ruins, the big girl and the little daughter-in-law are many, sitting on a boat full of red, red, green and green, which will always make him feel comfortable, hold fast and steady, and win a burst of amazement and praise. At this time, people will feel the gentleness and cruelty of life, and all the fatigue and bitterness will go away like flowing water. However, when the peak of the flood came down a few times, the turbid waves rolled over the embankment, and the dead branches and leaves floated on the river surface, pushing forward with a whirlwind, and the ancient ferries and ferries at this time inevitably had thrilling and hectic scenes, especially at dusk.
The ancient ferry is old, the river is leisurely, and this simple life quietly passes.
Later I left here, and the wooden boat that had stripped off the paint and exposed the essence took me to a ferry port downstream, not far from a road, and cars passed by every day.
Many years later, passing through here, the ancient crossing is still there, there are no people, and the sounds of the past have sunk into the depths of time. Unbridled kudzu vines cover the smooth pebbles, and not far from here is a rainbow of concrete bridge flying frames. During the high water season, there are many idle people standing on the bridge, watching the flood waves rise and turn the shore. The calm look of pointing is completely appreciative. The last ferry, moored there quietly, the bottom of the boat was already soaked with water, and a long-beaked kingfisher stood on the bow of the boat, not moving. Everything shows that the stubble of the boatman, who has stagnated the years of punting the boat, has gradually aged.
That page of life has been turned over.
How many life scenes like this are sealed in our memory warehouses. Once you encounter an opportunity, a touch of color, a wisp of breath, will make these long-term memories vivid and lively. For the spacious and flat long bridge, in addition to the difference between the old and the new and the different materials, Gudu carries different concepts of survival and ideals of life. Living day by day is marked by the way, mood, and fun of saying goodbye to the past. There are many daily necessities that used to be very common and have become the collection of the Folklore Museum. People want to make nostalgia have a guide, so they have to go to these places. However, for those who do not have those previous life experiences, these things do not have any energy value, just material attributes, whether they look at it or not, there is no difference. Someone once said that often remembering the past means that the mentality is old, but to feel the taste really can not get rid of nostalgia!
Everything in the past is very simple in my mind. The progress of the period has made everything we see beautiful and exquisite. The ruined ancient houses have been replaced by high-rise buildings, and the plackets of long shirts have also been cut into fashionable short clothes, such as household utensils, gourd scoops, coats, and wooden barrels, all of which have been replaced by aluminum alloys or plastic products. The most changed is the shape of people and the appearance of people. Not long ago, I sat down and watched the black-and-white film "Chicken Feather Letter" again. I did not pay attention to the arduous process of Haiwa delivering the letter, but immersed myself in the background of northern Shaanxi, where the soil was slagged off—the high slopes of the loess soil full of ravines, the stunned flock of sheep, and the old cotton jacket that did not slip in the autumn. At that time, people's behavior and expressions were so simple and realistic, clumsy and tasteful, and the soil was deep. These scenes always remind people of the real and unpretentious soil, without a hint of ornamentation. Later, I watched a few more remakes, black and white changed to color, the cast team also changed to another group, the important characters are more beautiful, the action is also performed, the eyebrows are more clever than clumsy, and the background that can show suffering and wind and frost is like the wind drifting. In my opinion, making some films without the characteristics of the period makes people look at them, but the emotions cannot be attached.
Forward life must be unfolded in a forward state, so that people face the computer, face the new and complex information. However, when you are idle, you will still feel that the traditional personality psychology has an element of unchanging and obsolete between change and change, new and old. The essence of history and the essence are like the feihong that comes and goes in the heavens and the earth, and it is difficult to mention and catch it, but it often arises and becomes the closest and deepest feeling. Even the ordinary ancient crossings in the countryside are no exception.