The bamboo shadows are swaying and the breeze is blowing gently. When the moment of history was fixed in that era of literary consciousness, the seven sages of bamboo forest floated past it. Literary consciousness is the self-discovery of "people", that is, "who am I?" Dig deeper. They use alcohol to escape from reality. "Who am I?" They must have asked themselves more than once, is it bamboo, wine or a passing spectator?
They began to think about their own value, but they couldn't see who I was.
A slim figure was reflected on the gray wall. Sometimes he sat down, sometimes he got up and paced. In the dim light, his helplessness and struggle seemed so insignificant. Is it a complete solution, or is it a great shame to endure castration? Do you just want to die for your dignity, or drag out an ignoble existence for that pen and unfinished business? "Who am I?" He asked again and again. The figure on the wall is getting higher and higher. "I am a historian", a firm answer echoed in the empty cell.
In the painful choice of dignity and mission, he recognized "I".
The moon rises from Dongshan and wanders between bullfights. In that frustrated place, he realized that "if you look at it from the perspective of change, heaven and earth cannot flash;" From its unchanging point of view, things are infinite to me. "Who am I?" Is it short-lived dazzling or infinite vastness? He compared himself to the universe and melted himself into poetry and painting. "Composition is like running water. There is no definite quality at first, but it can't stop after it is done." At first glance, this is an evaluation of his writing style, but isn't this a portrayal of his natural and frank personality? "Who am I?" Is he the first poet who was demoted to the wild and frustrated in his career, or a good official who dredged lakes, built dikes, stopped salt, consolidated coastal defense and did practical things?
He does not stick to "I", but compares himself with the infinite universe, making himself humiliating and immortal.
San Mao asked, "Who am I?" However, I miss San Mao, who walked in Sahara and Chen Ping in reality, and I can't extricate myself. Zhou asked, "Who am I?" When he lost his beloved daughter, he still did not forget his philosophical research; Lao Tzu asked, "Who am I?" Can't the view that Tao gives birth to one, life gives birth to two, life gives birth to three and life gives birth to everything answer this question?
From questioning life to self-realization to self-emptiness, "Who am I?" It has evolved into a philosophical proposition handed down from generation to generation. Zhou Zeng said, "All disasters are wealth to a philosophy", and "Who am I?" It is not only a philosophical proposition, but also a feeling of life.
(Shanghai Fudan University Affiliated Middle School)