The Past Is a Boiled Silk Cocoon
We have sunk deeper and deeper into reality.
In reality, no one would chase after the sun over immensely long distances like kuafu, the sun chaser in Chinese mythology. Therefore, darkness always quietly swallows all the wonders of light.
Is it that not the more something is unobtainable, the more we want it, or once we have obtained one thing, we want another?
Our childhood is gone forever. What remains is a broken dream.
What we cannot forget is that when spring arrives, we will still fly that ancient, beautiful kite, and when autumn comes, that broken-winged kite suddenly slams to pieces.
为什么不来南方呢？为什么不可以重新开始一种新的生活方式呢？朋友在电话的那端总是娓娓地劝我。 Why don’t you come to the south? Why don’t you start a new life? My friend has been enticing me over the phone in a sweet tone.
She is a well-off, single woman, comfortably living a life that she believes is the best for her. But things would be different if she were living in an inland town.
I often wake up in the dark night and then think about what I have just dreamt, but not about the following day, for all tomorrows are the same, and you cannot change much in them. A piece of news can travel in five minutes from the east of the town to the west—on a bus!
I cannot forget that the flying I once did has now turned into a deep-blue memory. Because I have once flown—flown with the transcendental feeling of crossing the blue sky and the clouds, I have carefully treasured my pair of broken wings.
What I do not want to think about is the sorrow that we cannot go beyond ourselves—that deep, hidden sorrow.
When we are in pain or confusion, we are not moving forward, but back to the past, instead. And the past is boiled silk cocoon.
We have to learn to continuously temper ourselves in this age and learn to swim across the sea of cold reality. In this way, we will be able to enter tomorrow with a smile.
Time and again, I have visited Mount Hua, and time and again I have visited churches, in search of pure land in which my heart can be at peace.I told one of my friends: The true transcendental realm is not to avoid reality but to keep a peaceful heart in the turbulent terrestrial world.Life is a flight of step. We have to climb it step by step.
And this climbing may be time-consuming, exhausting, and filled with emotion, but it is all for the purpose of pacifying your heart.
It is like what happened the other day when a friend came over. He sat in front of me, taking his time to talk, while a scene rose from behind me: A blue sky projected white clouds; the white clouds rode the breeze; the breeze swung a tree full of golden-colored, withered leaves by the window. The quiet, light, and water-like flow unfolded my heart into a morning mist.
If I knew my friend was standing on a mountaintop invisible to me, watching his past. He was not counting those trivialities, but instead, he counted how many steps he had scaled, measuring the height he had ascended. This took me into a realm where I saw a broader world.
I understand now that an ideal day’s activity in my heart would be just to pick up a cup of light tea from an unclothed wooden table, sip at it bit by bit and taste it little by little. The nature of a true life is nothing more than that. What is plain is real.