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The Tengwang Pavilion in tears
The boats on the riverside, the gently swaying reeds, the wind gathering from the south... a sweeping view of the Ganjiang River , there is no expected figure in the field of vision.
I was in a corner of Tengwang Pavilion, thinking about Wang Bo alone.
The thoughts of tourists are like the far-fetched autumn wind, thinly nestled in the strength of Tengwang Pavilion that travels through time and space. Standing in the cold Prince Teng Pavilion, Wang Bo's thin and melancholy expression can be seen when he opens and closes his eyes. The setting sun embraces the weeping Tengwang Pavilion, and the shadow of the pavilion lies slantingly in the river. The emperors and gentlemen are still missing, and the Yangtze River is empty outside the threshold. In the lonely pavilion, the scene of people drinking and drinking no longer exists, and the poetry, strings and orchestra only echo. I sat on the steps of the pavilion and listened to Jiang's voice alone. Hidden in the folds of Jiang's waves was the peerless talent Wang Bo.
The sadness of Ge silently made me follow. Every inch of the floor and every Danzhu plant trembled on my heartstrings. I want to continue a poem for the tearful Prince Teng Pavilion. In the poem, there is a scarred Wang Bo. The tearful Tengwang Pavilion wanders into my dreams in loneliness every day, wandering again and again alone. I can't find Wang Bo's poems. In countless dark nights when I'm awake, I sleep with my shadow in the pavilion until dawn.
Some people say: All landscapes will reject some people and favor some people. All people are born to belong to different landscapes. Prince Teng, who was not recognized in the court, was repeatedly condemned and demoted. However, layers of dissatisfaction could not erase his temperament of wandering around the world and singing and dancing in life. After being demoted to the Ganjiang River as a minor governor, he still wanted to build a pavilion for himself, "beating sandalwood boards and singing, holding gold bottles to drink wine", so as to attract literati and talented people to come and sing. On that mid-autumn day, Wang Bo's "one-man show" was going on. He looked deeply at the river where the water and the sky meet, and lamented that life is like branches on the river, ups and downs, but his passion and desire are flowing freely on the paper. He writes a lot of articles, and it is clear that what is on the back of the paper is his yearning for life. Some people say that "thick accumulation" is for "thick hair". Wang Bo lived in Jiannan for several years and finally created his pinnacle work. Tengwang Pavilion is just a way to show his peak and proud posture. At this time, Chang'an may have completely forgotten Wang Bo. Who would think of Wang Bo while playing the zheng while their thoughts wander on the zheng? Nowadays, every year at this time, the lonely birds along the Ganjiang River carry the gifts given to them by Wang Bo and fly up and down gracefully, holding up the infinite autumn water and the long sky.
"Things are different and people are different." Visitors are still lingering on the pavilion, looking at the water and clouds outside the pavilion, their hearts are like the vast river, and they want to take pictures of the railings. The light clouds lined the pavilion grayly, like a pair of eyes full of tears.
The boat carried a long shadow of the pavilion and moved forward melancholy. The surging waves of the river could vaguely see the grace of Wang Bo back then. This young man who has read poetry and books since childhood, has mastered the Nine Classics, and is a Tao-like young man who walks in thread-bound books, huddles in his rural home in Shu, and no longer thinks about things other than reading. It's a long way from Shu to Chang'an. No one knows you, so you can only indulge in words in confusion: "Nine Days in Sichuan", "Feast of the Spring"... "Every article is a surprise." (Yang Jiong said) There are many doors in life, but some of them only open to some. People are always open; don't try to knock on the door of regrets in life. If Wang Bo devoted himself to writing, history might be rewritten. Unfortunately, Wang Bo lived happily in the land of Jiannan for two years. Finally, unwilling to be lonely, he hesitated to go north and joined the army in Henan. The scholar's tortuousness eventually led to great disaster. Long Yan was furious and almost lost his life. Life was full of ups and downs, and Wang Bo felt cold.
One Pavilion / Hiding under the clouds / As tired as a bird at dusk / Weeping in front of the river. The river flows slowly, and sometimes it is so gentle that it makes people cry. A scholar who chews words will eventually make people taste the wrong things. Should I be nervous? Confused? Lost? Still angry? After all, life is not as poetic, simple and intuitive as "counting the boats towards the setting sun". ——People are speechless and can only get drunk in despair. Tengwang Pavilion is not in Chang'an, where emperors and generals were produced. Standing on this exquisite and elegant pavilion, you can have a panoramic view of the infinite charm of Ganjiang River. Wang Bo's dream soul can stay with the pavilion forever.
Kundera said: Life is a tree full of possibilities. During his stay in Jiannan, Wang Bo may have simulated various possibilities in the future, but he did not expect that the most desperate possibility in life was waiting in the water.
Wang Bo fell headlong into the river like a broken paper kite. Is his soul attached to the fish in the river? I wonder if a river of flowers will bloom wherever he walks, making the fish happy and sad.
The setting sun has become its afterglow, the people in the pavilion have gone, the birds have gone away, leaving a lonely space.
Looking at the world, looking at the universe, there is a vast sea of ??people, moving in a hurry, struggling, striving, pursuing, life is endless, and the battle is endless. All living beings are running around looking for something of their own. For this, even if it takes a lifetime of trouble, I don’t care at all. All the bustle in the world is for benefit, and all the hustle and bustle in the world is for benefit. For the name? For profit? For an ideal? Although they vary greatly from person to person, regardless of moral standards of right and wrong, they are all looking for the same thing - a place where they can feel comfortable, harmonious and quiet.
Ants, tiny animal spirits, know that life is weak and the earth is boundless, but they still use their weak bodies and tireless faith to build their own life home that is strong enough to face any disaster on earth - —Anthill. A tree stands alone on the earth, but it strives to stretch itself towards the blue sky and white clouds, occupy its own part of the sky, absorb sunlight and release oxygen, and use its branches to build its own home - the green of life. In order to survive, all living things are looking for or building their own spiritual home. Human beings, as the primates of all things, are certainly no exception. There is no village in front of us, no store in back, the vastness of the universe and the earth can be ignored, and the vastness of the earth can be ignored by individuals. Life is so short, a drop in the ocean. In the vast starry sky and in the long history, we can see the insignificance, loneliness and coldness of human beings. Only by building a warm space can we drive away loneliness and coldness. This is a place where people can lean in and look out. This space is the spiritual home of mankind. Likewise, no one is an exception.
What exactly is it? A paradise that is perfect, warm, harmonious and comfortable in your heart. It can be a huge fortune, a power that can be answered by a hundred people, an unforgettable love affair, etc. or much more than that. Where is it? In fact, our ancestors have been searching for it since the birth of mankind. But he left without success and has long since been submerged in the smoke and dust of history and the bloodshed of autocratic life and death. So they passed the baton to their children and grandchildren. The strange thing is that smart modern people are not relaxed because of the footprints of their ancestors, but are more anxious. There are many high-rise buildings everywhere, and where the neon lights are flashing, young wanderers are dancing wildly. The eyes are filled with the ups and downs of fame and fortune. Wherever fame and fortune come and go, there are those who are tireless and fight for their lives. The fast-paced life and the ecstasy-like utilitarian dance drive away people's inner peace. Along with this comes a profound absence of poetry. People, the habitat of poetry, after the poetry is taken away, the body is undoubtedly like a tree with the innermost wood hollowed out, living a purposeless life and walking like a zombie. Instead, it is filled with all kinds of desires, the heart is overly squeezed, and there is a lack of poetic comfort and adjustment, which ultimately makes the machine more and more empty and irritable. Those who complain are those who complain, those who jump off buildings, and those who are anesthetized are anesthetized. Modern people, illuminated by the rapid development of material civilization, are like children without a father, a mother, and a home. They generally have a feeling of being exiled. They had a home when they were young, but were later kicked out. Looking back now, they are blocked by ice walls and can no longer find a home.
The more you lack, the more you long for it. The more you long for it, the more feverishly you chase it. Even after nine deaths, you still have no regrets. After spending a lifetime and working hard all their lives, modern people struggle to break through all kinds of worldly fates. They use all their skills and hundreds of tricks to please various worldly fates and try to control them by wearing various masks. The ultimate dream is to stand on a tall building one day and cheer loudly: I succeeded! For this reason, many people leave their homes and leave their wives and children, many people are ready to take action and struggle, and many people even take risks to build their dreams on the pain of others. But reality is always cruel, perfection is always joking with reality, and it is always impossible to get close even if it is far away. The dreams in the heart are always mixed with more or less shortcomings; or they are more cruelly tortured under the siege of reality. To make up for it, we act like a gambler who loses his mind and gambles all his possessions. But in the end, after going around and around, we are still not entangled by various worldly connections. Pursuing again and again, being shattered again and again, gambling wildly again and again, never seeing the light of day again and again. This machine of ours is lifted up and dropped again and again by life, and in the end we run out of body oil just like that in a lifetime. But the dream cloud in my heart is still Yunshan, Cangcang River, and the mountains are high and the water is far away. Although some people climbed up to the tall buildings and cheered loudly, everything was like a clay sculpture that was crushed into pieces, instantly disintegrating under the attack of wind and rain, and all the pain burst out. At this time, they wanted to find a place to rest, but they couldn't find a place to rest. There is no way back. After a lifetime of wandering, our souls are riddled with holes, so we can never find home on the road. Even if we are at home, we still long to go home.
Why? Why have we always been unable to find a home through the ages? Why do we always hope for a sudden heavy rain in the vast sky, so that it can wash away our hearts that are already filled with helplessness and pain? It is to hope that a hurricane will swirl between the deserted sky and the earth, so that our footsteps, which have been filled with heavy and tired rain, can fly singing and dancing.
Maybe we are looking in the wrong direction or simply going in the opposite direction. Home is the place where the soul rests, but proud modern people wisely equate it with luxury. High-rise villas, beautiful cars and beautiful women, money and power, etc. But everyone knows that luxurious ostentation can only make the soul confused. What the soul needs is harmony and tranquility rather than decoration. On the way to this pursuit, we become alienated into house slaves, car slaves, and money slaves. Instead of becoming the master of the family, he became a slave to fame and fortune. Losing the freedom, tranquility and comfort of being the master. If we don’t do what needs to be taken care of, there will always be people who eventually sigh after things change: Where are my parents? Where are my wife and children? Where are my friends? ...became a veritable creditor, owing family, love and friendship that could never be repaid...
Buddhism says that human suffering comes from desire. The greater the desire, the deeper the suffering. In real life There are many examples of people who cut off love throughout their lives, resorting to any means, and finally enjoy all the glory. In the end, they find that the most precious self has been changed, alienated, and even lost in the endless struggle.
Where is home? Nowhere. There is no such thing as the pursuit of fame and fortune; there is no such thing as insatiable greed; there is no such thing as being humble and humble.
Everywhere. There is it in a basket of food and a ladle of drink; in the singing of a boat in the spring; in the conversation by the fire in the winter.
It does not live elsewhere, but in our hearts. Just feel it with your heart and you can hear his heartbeat. As harmonious as you want it to be, it will be harmonious, and as upset as you want it to be, it will be upset. Comfort, tranquility and harmony are all up to you.
Walk, always keep walking, feel with your heart the true meaning of life on the road, do not care about gains and losses in the world, do not become a slave to desire; cherish everything you have, and seek harmony Quiet and comfortable, your home is in your daily life.
Fortunately for us, while we are looking for a small home for ourselves, there is another type of people who are unswervingly determined to find a home for mankind. They regard mankind as their own small home. . They are Confucius, their benevolence, justice, etiquette and wisdom; they are Fan Zhongyan, and they are Fan Zhongyan's "worry before the world's worries, and rejoice after the world's happiness"; they are Haizi, the children's "spring flowers bloom"; they are Nietzsche , is Nietzsche's "God is dead"... It is precisely because of them that we humans will not get lost in the universe, or even freeze to death in the starry sky.
Philosophers say that philosophy is looking for home everywhere with an impulse of nostalgia.