Narrative

I don’t understand the tea ceremony. The abstract of green leaves rolling like Dragons entering the water, or the intoxication of light fragrance blowing on my face, just listen to others’ explanations, think with ears, and think with tongue. A long time ago, I read a foreigner’s brochure, talking about the actions and sounds of teahouses, tea sets and tea making. Every movement is a ceremony, and every voice is dazzling, it seems that the tea ceremony can also enter the subtlety of the universe, enter meditation and practice piety, modesty and loyalty. Maybe it is because this country’s actions are not honest enough, literature and art and talent are not rich enough, and the profits are extremely poor that this daily secular behavior is regarded as a religious ceremony, give it abstract and mysterious meaning. Speaking of this, it refers to China, a Great Eastern Country. In this land of China, only the farming of an old farmer can be regarded as a religious ceremony: The Royal country, the festivals and customs in the countryside are all like this. Any farmer of this nation who is sensitive to farming, on this vast field of black soil, loess and red soil, goes on a line, thinks and looks, leaves a leaf, and melts into a kind of survival and life, it is a kind of practice of material and spirit. This kind of practice has already been their ritual in the living environment of all living beings, saying nothing and doing nothing. Their deep and turbid, plain and fresh eyes, their plain and good, dull and quiet description are the results and explanations of these perennial ceremonies. Farming people, in a Silent Way, ploughing and weeding, eradicate the mess in their hearts, stay away from the right and wrong home to the wild world, and talk with heaven and God. This is the reason why a large number of wise men and art masters lurk in the farm. People who serve the vegetable ridges have clear eyes, decorated with emerald green, washed with clear water, planed to form a border, shaped to the ridge, and talked with the living spirit immortal, is it because of the fact that there are so many real people in remote rural areas? This is also the starting point for those people who grow up in the level of art to return to farming and work in the fields. This should be the environment of nature, the environment without self, and the environment of modernization. Chinese philosophy, Chinese aesthetics and national art. So careful, the ceremony is everywhere, the ceremony is heavy, sacred and beautiful, amazing. Of course, when you narrate in this way, the listener’s understanding may dissociate the original intention of your narration. He really uses his emotion, his experience, to understand your narration with many factors that make up his life? Your eyes? Maybe misunderstanding error, specious, left and right hesitation. Even so, your narration is a kind of work, a kind of cultivation; Your work is still a little fire, which will eventually ignite the emotion of another domain; it is still a mysterious line of ploughing, connecting another mysterious domain, arousing people or bosom friends to muster wings and fly to the distance with excitement or even a little melancholy. Moreover, the contradiction between these narrators and listeners, and the mistakes between these narrators and misunderstandings still leave thousands of silk threads in the human sky, shining ancient and mysterious prophecy in the boundless starry sky. Narration is a kind of farming, although perhaps, it is just farming, hard to ask for harvest. Like (prose editor: Jiangnan wind) the snow in spring Spring elimination snow, multi-the yao nian, unspoken. Reading from afar, it is just above that snowfield. The snow is really beautiful, after all it is spring… Waiting Waiting is a kind of persistence, sticking to a certain belief and never giving up. Maybe because of a certain commitment, or because of a certain… Be good at listening to different voices and opinions On October 6th, I published a travel essay: “beautiful autumn scenery”, which was obtained by many literary websites… Read The Bridges of Madison County “When the white moth spreads its wings, you can come to me at any time”. I think, if I am a man, be accepted… From today on, I want to be happy I read “the biography of Hulan River” long time ago, and I remember that I was really in a heavy mood for a long time. Which characters caused me… Sick time I sneezed one after another these days. I said someone was reading me and others said I was sick. Finally, the doctor also said I was…