Much bigger than other trees, and thick enough to fold, like a tree? Great husband? , reaching into the air; Like a reserved girl, long hair, shawls and other lush leaves cover her face and even her whole body. I guess, at the beginning, there must be many saplings growing side by side with it, and later, perhaps because of the needs of environmental planning, they were cut down; Perhaps it is their own good quality and tenacious persistence. It leisurely walks through the storms of the years and becomes tall. Reading trees in my spare time has become a part of my life.
One day, my mother wrote from the north: the cold wave is coming, pay attention to keep warm and keep out the cold. In the evening, I added a quilt. Sure enough, in the middle of the night, there was a whistling wind and rain banging on the window lattice. I woke up from a deep sleep and heard the cold raindrops falling like primitive percussion. So I didn't sleep, thinking about home letters. Think of my mother's genealogy and my grandfather's ups and downs. Grandpa is a famous local educator. He devoted his life to education in Sang Zi and gave up several opportunities for external employment. However, in those unprecedented years, he didn't want to succumb to inhuman torture. On a cold rainy night, he swallowed his anger and committed suicide. I didn't see his old man's house, but I read a black-framed face from my uncle's house. I dare not say how skilled the painter is, but I firmly believe that those eyes are vivid. Every time I stand in front of it, there is always a feeling that spreads to me and silently collides with my heart.
Imagine, with the wind and rain, in order not to be sleepy, I put on my clothes alone, facing the window. The night is like ink, and in an instant I am also integrated into this thick night. Surprised to find a few cold stars blinking their sleepy eyes on the horizon! In the past, this was an illusion. There is no rain at all, only wind, cruel and abusive north wind. What moved me most at this time? Have a heart Not far away is the phoenix tree. I can only vaguely see its dark blue outline, bearing the desolation of the horizon. A gust of wind blows, which is the call sign of leaves and branches around each other, sometimes like Russian folk songs, and sometimes like poetry as if nothing had happened. Somehow, my grandfather's portrait suddenly caught my eye, and it seemed to have an unspeakable fit with this silent phoenix tree. Wenda, who doesn't want to be a giant arm, has the magnanimity to protect one side.
Woke up the next day, the sun was full of windows, but the sun was shining high.
I miss the yellow leaves of that tree. Pushing open the window lattice, the tree I saw turned out to be a Oracle Bone Inscriptions. There are no leaves that covered the sun yesterday, and the rest are quite dry trees. My heart seems to have been put on a heavy piece of ice by someone, and I can no longer be a bird and fly to that tree. The night wind has withered the life of the tree! The wind doesn't care about you. What falls will eventually fall, and there is no need to stay. You still have a sense of pride against the whole winter before spring comes!
So, I understand the loneliness of the phoenix tree, not lamenting the indifference of the passing of youth, not lamenting the loneliness in the sea of people, but a kind of Zen, a kind of mystery of quietness, adapting to nature and counteracting nature, understanding nature and confusion, letting the wind and rain erode, the four seasons cycle, the sun and the moon are black, flowers bloom and fall, how calm and indifferent generosity! I can't help feeling that my grandfather died young, and I am sad that he gave in to fate and people of that era.
It was the familiar rustling of leaves, beating the eardrum affectionately. Looking down, a girl in red is skipping along a path covered with yellow leaves. It seems that every leaf is accompanying her youthful footsteps. At the moment, I threw myself into a ray of fluffy sunshine on my windowsill and spilled it on a roll of old books that I didn't close last night before I filed the case.
I started publishing my classic prose collection 1962. He has written a series of essays, such as Cultural Journey, Notes on Mountain Residence, Frosty Riverside, Millennium Sigh, Boundless Traveler, Touching the Earth, Searching for China, What is Culture, and China Context.
Cultural Journey is Yu's masterpiece. "Cultural Journey" takes Yu's visit to cultural sites all over the country as a clue, reveals the cultural connotation of China with profound thoughts and powerful language, and asks about the deep meaning of history and life. Cultural Journey shows readers Yu's profound knowledge of literature and history, rich cultural perception and artistic expression, and is a model in the field of contemporary prose.
The writing of Notes on Mountain Residence began in 1992 and was completed in 1994, which lasted more than two years. In order to write this book, the author resigned from the administrative position of the college and stopped working, so these two years were pure and almost devoted. It is inefficient to spend so much time writing eleven articles, but the author's writing is linked to investigation, and he has to go to many places over and over again, so he can't get up quickly. Once, in order to check the two words on the couplet of a historic site in Hainan Island, several letters and inquiries failed to get an accurate answer, so I had to go again. It is absurd to calculate this by economic gains and losses, but there are other gains and losses in the article, that is, the so-called? Do you know the gains and losses? The rigorous attitude towards learning can be seen.
I Classic Prose Collection (2) Yesterday
Young friends often write and ask big questions about life. I always tell them that you actually have the best life mentor, and that is yourself.
This is not prevarication. Although the process of life will be greatly influenced by society and the times, the basic clues that run through it are always inseparable from one's own individual life. The integrity and coherence of individual life will constitute a great power, so that any little point in life points to the overall value. A person's sudden depression and despair, self-abandonment, persistence and adventure are often caused by mental illness? Short circuit? At this time, if you inadvertently dig out a childhood photo, or a few pages of diaries written by middle school students, stare carefully and read slowly, you will probably feel relaxed, stretch your brows and return to a calm and rational state. The strength comes from life itself, far greater than the persuasion of others.
Picking up a photo of myself when I was ten years old is not sighing that my youth is gone, but staring at those clear and innocent eyes for a long time. It reminds you that you once had such a strong light, such a big space and so many possibilities, and all this has not completely disappeared; It tells you that you used to be so pure and relaxed, and everything that bothers you today does not belong to you. At this time, you find that your eyes gave instructions in your early years, asking you to find your treasure and put back what does not belong to you. Besides photos, there should be more signals connecting our lives.
To this end, I really hope that more people in the world will cherish their every step, be diligent in recording, be willing to review, dare to laugh at themselves and be good at correcting, so that the whole life can irrigate and nourish each other. In fact, the genealogies of prominent families in ancient China are also updated from generation to generation, and they irrigate and nourish each other. You can see that the clear and orderly time process presented in the genealogy is so powerful that the previous generation is self-disciplined and the next generation is self-reliant. It is endless. Personal life is also a time process of mutual assistance. If all the memories can be preserved, it will certainly produce a dynamic cycle that will reverberate for a long time and inspire people. A person, like a family, whether he has identity, credibility and responsibility depends on whether he can seriously preserve the complete evolution.
We may have begun to regret not saving those precious fragments of our past life, but I don't know how many years later, we will regret today again. If one day, we suddenly find that it is better to take our life as a career than to devote ourselves to a big career and take our life as a story than to listen to a good story, we will definitely start writing and do some interesting things. Might as well call it such a thing? Collecting games of life? . Let today collect yesterday and tomorrow collect today. In a piece of collection, the original pieces are connected into a long line, and the original pool is connected into a big river, so there is no danger that the big river will be sour and dry.
Most of life is ordinary, and ordinary is the orthodox form of life. Can you wait until you are outstanding? Outstanding because of its rarity. Why don't we risk associating ourselves with rarity? Since everyone is ordinary, don't underestimate the order of secular years and ordinary years. Don't put all your eggs in one basket, don't swear, don't pray for miracles, don't fantasize, just walk slowly and responsibly day by day, walking on the two-way road of memory and yearning. This will have the usual taste and realm. It's too cold at the top of Mount Everest, so it doesn't matter anymore. The first realm in the world is between the plains and mountains. Autumn wind, reed white, fishing boat far away, smoke oblique. Life has a beginning and an end.
When we think about the starting point and the end point, our days are ethereal and real, relaxed and urgent, transparent and serious. External force is external force after all, and the teacher of life can only be life itself. Then, let's calm down and guide ourselves, and don't look around on the fundamental issues.
Looking around, the desert is deserted, but in fact, your footprints can only step out of a line. No matter how freely this line bends, it is also such a line. To really finish this line, we must connect the footprints together. If we completely abandon the traces of the past, who will care about those fragmentary steps on the earth? When traveling in the desert, I sighed again and again: only coherence, the coherence of a certain curve, will leave a little beauty. On the contrary, fragmentary footprints can only be a double abuse of themselves and the desert.
What's best for me? What's the worst thing? Where do gullible detours always appear? What is the trap that tempts me most? What kind of opportunities can we give full play to? In what kind of atmosphere can my body and mind settle down in all directions? These are particularly important issues in the course of life, but they can only be picked up slowly in the past experience. Yesterday has passed, there is no past. After a night of air drying, it has become an abstruse classroom. There are no other students in this class, only you, and you have no other more important classes.
So collecting life is more important than collecting books and antiques. Put it in the wooden house, put it by the river, light a lamp on a windy and rainy night, check it, and take it out to dry the next day when it clears up.
Reading the Chronicle of Life
Yu's Classic Prose (3) Poetic Rain at Night
In order to learn to write ancient poems in my early years, I bought a thread-bound version of Poetry Rhyme. There are 6 volumes in a letter, and the font is very small and there are many contents. Besides looking up the rhyme of poems, it also classifies all kinds of objects, scenery and artistic conception, and collects relevant poems of past dynasties to become a quite complete dictionary of poems. In the past, when a scholar wanted to write a poem in an emergency, he always had to look it up and make sure, and he could quickly concoct several poems. But there is no doubt that the poem written in this way is not worth reading. Only when you don't have the task of writing poems, it will be interesting to look at China's various collections of poems with the same name.
Over and over again, and now it appears? Night rain? This name, you can read most of the poems here. Since it is night, all colors have faded, and all colorful words have lost their effectiveness; It's raining again, and the space is tight, so no feat or lofty sentiments can be spread, and poetry can't help but move towards simplicity, itself and emotion. Li Shangyin's famous "Notes to Northern Friends on a Rainy Night" is a model.
Just listening to the rain outside the window at night, I will be full of poetry. Speaking of beauty, there is no beauty. The road outside the house is muddy and difficult to walk, the flowers in the yard are scattered all over the floor, and the night travelers are soaked to the skin. But it is in this case that you will feel that the usual secular noise is temporarily submerged, leaving only the tranquility unified by the rain and the loneliness blocked by the rain. Everyone quietly returned to their seats and sat silently surrounded by rain curtains. Everything outside has become imagination, and imagination in rainy nights is always particularly focused and far away.
The rain at night slowly deprives people of their vitality, so the imagination in the rain at night is particularly sensitive and timid. This timidity is mixed with a certain sense of security and condenses into a warm self-enjoyment and expectation in a small world. Chatting with family around the stove on rainy nights, almost never bickering; Concentrate on studying in the rain at night, and your body and mind will be burned abnormally; Miss your friends on a rainy night, and you will miss writing a letter immediately; Writing in the rain at night will make the words moist and meaningful.
It's best to imagine fighting the rich on a rainy night. The dim light shines on the dense rain feet, the glass windows are cold and cold, and the heat you give off is a fog. There are few things you can see, but it seems that you can see far away. The wind is not strong, and a gentle burst immediately turns into a gradual rain. The ripples in the river are denser and the mud on the road is thicker. At this moment, nothing will interfere with the laissez-faire between her. You scrape the fog off the window with your warm fingers and see countless crystal raindrops outside the window. The new fog appeared again. You still row, row, row with your fingers, and finally row to the name you miss.
Rain at night is the enemy of travel.
Not because I can't walk at night, nor because I don't have rain boots and an umbrella. Rainy nights will make travelers homesick and deep in thought. The rain at night will make travelers look forward to comfort and suddenly realize that they are in a distant and lonely situation, feeling sorry for themselves, which constitutes the fetters of Wan Li's lofty sentiments.
It's not rapids or mountains, but the rain at night, which makes countless travelers suddenly regret and give up halfway. I don't know how Fa Xian, Xuan Zang, Zheng He, Jian Zhen and Xu Xiake felt after another rain. In my opinion, their strongest will is to rush out of the rain curtain.
As a useless person, I often hide in a country hotel on rainy nights and take out a map to look at it carefully. Looking back at the thousands of miles that have passed, I am thinking of countless rivers and mountains under the cover of the rain at night. I often lose sleep on such nights. In order to get rid of this futile laziness, I always invite a few strangers to chat for a long time on rainy nights.
However, what really brought me back to my mood was not this conversation at all, but the sunny morning the next day. In the morning after the rain, a flood of stimulants hit, making people almost forget last night; I can't forget it completely, leaving a shadow, indifferent and gloomy, adding a trace of melancholy.
In the journey of life, the charm of the rain at night can also be deeply explored.
I believe that time and time again, the rain at night watered my daughter-in-law's outstanding ambition, touched Ping Zeng's manic heart, stopped the explosive struggle, and shattered the dangerous plot. Of course, the rain at night also broke through grand plans, brave marching and burning feelings.
I wonder if historians have checked how many rainy nights with dark clouds have quietly changed the pace of China's history. General Shu Mei died, the counselor humiliated himself, the king calmed down, the hero calmed down, the chivalrous man stopped, the drums stopped, the horse returned to the trough, the sword was drawn, the memorial was interrupted, the imperial edict was withdrawn, the ship broke down, the alcohol subsided, the carnival disappeared, the breathing stopped evenly and the mind was calm.
Yu's Classic Prose (IV) Taoist Pagoda
one
There is a river outside the Mogao Grottoes. There is a clearing on the other side of the river, and several stupas are built high and low. The tower is round and looks like a gourd. It is painted white. Judging from the collapse of several towers, a wooden stake stands in the center of the tower, surrounded by yellow mud, and the base is made of blue bricks. Monks and abbots in Mogao Grottoes have never been rich, which can also be proved from here. As the sun sets and the north wind blows, this dilapidated tower group is even more desolate.
There is a tower, which is well preserved because it was built recently. There is an inscription on the tower. I was suddenly surprised when I saw it. Its owner turned out to be the king!
It is recorded in history that he was a sinner in Dunhuang Grottoes.
I have seen his photos, wearing homespun cotton-padded clothes, with dull eyes and timid. He was a common citizen in China at that time. He used to be a farmer in Macheng, Hubei, and fled to Gansu to become a Taoist. After many twists and turns, it unfortunately became the seat of the Mogao Grottoes and dominated the most splendid culture in ancient China. He received little money from foreign adventurers and asked them to carry away countless boxes of Dunhuang cultural relics. Nowadays, experts from Dunhuang Research Institute have to bear the burden of humiliation and buy microfilms of Dunhuang documents from foreign museums again and again, sighing and walking towards the magnifying glass.
You can vent your anger on him. However, he is too humble, too small, too ignorant, and the biggest dumping is nothing more than casting pearls before swine for an indifferent expression. Let his ignorant body fully bear this heavy cultural debt, even we will be bored.
This is a great national tragedy. Wang Daochang is just a clown in front of his body in this tragedy. A young poet wrote that that night, when the adventurer Stan was ready to set off with a team of ox carts full of boxes, he looked back at the gloomy sunset in the western sky. There, the wound of an ancient nation is dripping blood.
two
I really don't know how a Buddhist holy place can be taken care of by a Taoist priest. Where are all the civil servants in China? Why do they never mention the reason of Dunhuang?
At that time, it was the beginning of the 20th century, and European and American artists were brewing a breakthrough in the new century. Rodin is sculpting in his studio, Renoir, Degas and Cezanne are in the late stage of creation, and Manet has exhibited his Lunch on the Grass. Some of them cast envious eyes on oriental artists, and Dunhuang art is in the hands of Taoist king.
Taoist Wang gets up early every day and likes to walk around the cave, just like an old farmer, watching his house. He is a little dissatisfied with the murals in the cave and looks a little dizzy. I wish it were brighter. He found two helpers and brought a bucket of lime. Put a long handle on the grass brush, soak it in the lime bucket and start his painting. The first time lime was painted too thin, and the color was still faintly visible. The farmer told him to do things seriously, and he brushed it carefully for the second time. The air here is dry, and the lime will soon dry. There is nothing left. Laughter in the Tang Dynasty and clothes in the Song Dynasty are all white in the cave. Taoist simple and honest smile, by the way, inquired about the market price of lime. He calculated that it was unnecessary to brush more caves for the time being, so let's brush these. He put down the brush handle philosophically.
When all the cave walls were painted new, the sculpture of the middle seat was too eye-catching. In a clean farmhouse, their graceful posture is too ostentatious, and their gentle smiles are a bit embarrassing. The Taoist priest remembered his identity. As a Taoist, why don't you get some Shi Tian and Lingguan Bodhisattvas here? He ordered his assistant to borrow some hammers to bend the original sculpture. Things are not bad, only a few times, graceful posture into pieces, gentle smile into mud. It is said that there are several masons in the neighboring village. They invited them, mixed some mud and began to build his celestial spirit officer. The mason said that he had never done this kind of work, and the Taoist comforted him. I might as well mean that. So, just like an urchin making a snowman, here is the nose, here are the hands and feet, and finally you can sit still. All right, get more lime to paint it. Draw a pair of eyes and a beard. It looks decent. The Taoist priest took a deep breath, thanked several masons, and then made the next plan.
Today, when I walked into these caves, I felt pale in the face of pale walls and strange images. I can hardly speak, and my eyes are shaking with those brushes and hammers. ? Stop it! ? I cried out in pain at the bottom of my heart, only to see the Taoist king turn his face and be full of doubts. Yes, he is tidying up his house. Why do idle people make trouble? I even want to kneel down to him and beg him in a low voice: please wait, wait ...? But wait for what? My heart is still pale.
three
1900 In the early morning of May 26, 2000, Taoist Wang still got up early and tried to clear the accumulated sand in a cave. Unexpectedly, when the wall shook, it cracked a crack, and there seemed to be a hidden cave inside. Road flyover Wang was a little strange and quickly opened the cave. Oh, a hole full of antiques!
Taoist king doesn't understand it at all. This morning, he opened a door that caused a sensation in the world. This cave will establish a permanent learning place. Numerous talented scholars will devote their lives to this cave. The glory and shame of China will be swallowed up by this cave.
Now, he is rummaging in the cave with a pipe. Of course he doesn't understand these things, but he feels a little strange. Why did the wall crack when I was here? Maybe this is God's reward for me. Next time I go to the county seat, I'll pick up some scrolls and show them to the county magistrate. By the way, I'll talk about this miracle.
The county magistrate is a civilian and has some weight. Not long after, Ye of Gansu Academy learned that he was an expert in epigraphy and knew the value of caves. He suggested that Fan Tai transport these cultural relics to the provincial capital for safekeeping. But there are many things, the freight is not low, and the bureaucrats hesitate. Only the Taoist king took out some cultural relics again and again and distributed them around the officialdom.
China is poor, but as long as you look at the luxurious life of these bureaucrats, you will know that you will never be poor enough to support this freight. China officials are not ignorant. They turned over the unearthed scrolls in the bright and clean study, speculating about the dynasty of writing. But they don't have the guts. They are determined to protect the heritage of the motherland. They gently touched their beards and said to their opponents: When, ask that Wang Daochang to send some more! ? I have a few. Wrap them up. They are birthday gifts for Beijing officials.
Just then, scholars, sinologists, archaeologists and adventurers from Europe and America came to Dunhuang, not far from Wan Li. They are willing to sell all their property to pay for smuggling one or two cultural relics back. They are willing to endure hardships, risk being buried in the desert, and even get ready to be beaten and killed, and come to this newly opened cave. They lit thick smoke in the desert, and China officials were drinking tea in the living room.
Without any checkpoints and formalities, foreigners went straight to the cave. A brick was built in the cave, a lock was locked, and the key was hung on the belt of Taoist Wang. It is a pity for foreigners. At the last stop of their sprint in Wan Li, they didn't meet the heavily guarded cultural relics protection official residence, the indifferent museum curator, or even the guards and doormen. It turns out that this dirty Taoist king did everything. They had to shrug their shoulders humorously.
A simple chat will tell you the taste of Taoist priests. The original plans are redundant, and all the Taoist priests want is the easiest small business. It's like exchanging two needles for a chicken and a button for a basket of vegetables. Repeat this exchange account in detail, maybe my pen pal is not very calm. I can only say briefly: 1905, 10 In June, Russian Brou Chev exchanged a lot of documents and scrolls with him with a little Russian goods; 1907 In May, Hungary exchanged a stack of silver dollars for 24 boxes of warp rolls and 5 boxes of weaving silks and paintings. 10 In July, 908, Frenchman Pelliot exchanged a small amount of silver dollars for10 cart, more than 6,000 notebooks and scrolls; 19 1 1 year1October, Japanese Koichiro Yoshikawa and Zuicho Tachibana exchanged more than 300 volumes of writing books and two Tang sculptures at unimaginable low prices; 19 14 years, Stan came again for the second time, and he still exchanged a little money for five boxes of more than 600 volumes. ......
Taoist priests also hesitated for fear of offending God. It's easy to get rid of this hesitation. That Stan coaxed him that he admired Tang Priest very much and came to China from India to learn the scriptures this time. Well, since it's a foreign Tang priest, take it away. The Taoist king opened the door in high spirits. There is no need for any diplomatic rhetoric here, just a few existing fairy tales.
Box after box. One cart, another cart. All packed and tied. Hey, the motorcade is leaving.
I didn't go to the provincial capital because the master said there was no freight. Ok, and then ship it to London, Paris, Petersburg and Tokyo.
Taoist king nodded frequently, bowed deeply and sent him a ride. He respectfully called Stan because? Don't you dare promise? , called Pachio? Is Lord Bei afraid of peace? . He has some heavy silver dollars in his pocket, so it is hard to get general charity. He said goodbye and thanked Mr. Si and Mr. Bei? Pay? . The motorcade has left, and he is still standing at the intersection. In the desert, two deep ruts.
When they returned abroad, Stan was warmly welcomed. Their academic reports and expedition reports always arouse thunderous applause. They often mention the eccentric Taoist king in their narratives, making foreign audiences feel how important it is to save this legacy from such a fool. They constantly hinted that it was their long journey that made Dunhuang documents move from darkness to light.
They are pragmatic scholars, academically, I can admire them. However, in their discussion, some very basic premises were forgotten. It's too late to argue now. A few lines written by a contemporary China youth to Lord Elgin who burned Yuanmingyuan came to my mind:
I hate it.
Hate that I wasn't born a century earlier.
So I can stand in front of you
A gloomy castle
A field with morning dew.
Either I pick up the white gloves you left behind.
Either you catch the sword I threw.
Why don't you and I each ride a horse?
Stay away from the handsome flag that covers the sun
Leaving the war is like a cloud.
Win or lose.
These poems may be too difficult for this group of literati. But I really want to stop their motorcade in this way. Stand at each other in the desert. They will say, you can't learn; Ok, let's find a place first and sit down and compare our knowledge. We can do anything, but we can't quietly take away the legacy left by our ancestors.
I can't help sighing again. What if the motorcade is really stopped by me? I was going to send it to the capital, regardless of the freight. But wasn't there really a batch of cave literature sent to Beijing at that time? The scene is that there are no wooden cases, only mats are tied, and officials along the way reach in and get one. Where to rest, they have to leave some bundles. Therefore, the capital has been scattered and deformed.
For such a big China, there are more than a few volumes of scriptures! Compared with the scene ruined by a lot of officials, I sometimes even want to say cruelly: I'd rather leave it in the London Museum! This sentence is not very comfortable after all. Where should the motorcade stopped by me go? It's hard here and there, so I can only let it stay in the desert and cry.
I hate it!
four
I'm not the only one who hates it. Experts from Dunhuang Research Institute hate me more than I do. They don't want to confess, just keep a straight face and study Dunhuang documents for decades. Literary films can be bought from abroad, and the more humiliating they are, the more dense they are.
When I went, an international seminar on Dunhuang studies was being held in Mogao Grottoes. After the meeting for a few days, a Japanese scholar explained with a heavy tone: I want to correct a past statement. The results of these years show that Dunhuang is in China and Dunhuang studies are also in China! ?
Experts in China are not too excited. They left the meeting silently and walked past the silent tower of Wang Daochang.