In the summer, the sun is just right, gardenias are on the branches, and the flowers are in clusters. There are three or two cows under the tree, looking up and sniffing the fragrance of flowers.
The sun moved westward, and the sunlight turned into a heat wave in the sky. At four or five o'clock in the afternoon, I passed a middle school near the community and I heard a melodious sound of a violin by chance. The sound of the piano came from the delivery room. I was fascinated by what I heard when a courier stood at the door of the delivery room and shouted to the people inside, "Sister Miao, play the piano again." The sound of the piano stopped abruptly. So I saw the middle-aged woman who played the violin. She didn't know sheet music or music theory, and she taught herself how to clean the violin.
Later, when I thought of Sister Miao, I realized that I hadn't heard her play the piano for a long time. When I went to that middle school again, she disappeared. Old He from the delivery room squinted at me and said, "Sister Miao is ill. She received a bone marrow transplant last week, and she hasn't been discharged from the hospital yet."
I stood dumbfounded. When I met Sister Miao before, she had been suffering from illness. No matter how devastated her body was, she always faced it positively, and she always maintained tenderness in her heart and spiritual brightness.
The French writer Proust once rejoiced at the deliciousness of a small snack when he was afflicted by disease, and sighed: "I only feel that in my life, the gain and loss of honor and disgrace are as light as water, and it is not a big problem to be robbed in the back. Life is short, but it's just a temporary hallucination; that situation is like the effect of love, which enriches me with a precious spirit." So, I recalled that when I went to the Tarim Basin many years ago, I saw a kind of "flower stick" called "flower stick". The plant, with pink flowers like small butterflies, blows in the wind on the branches. The branches of the flower stick are soft and capable, the flowers are exquisite, and the vitality is very strong. The yellow sand buried its branches, but its roots secretly sprouted many new shoots deep in the sand layer, burrowing out of the sand layer, intentionally or unintentionally, conveying the inner mystery of life.
There are many persevering souls, no matter how ordinary they live in the world, they can calm down their hearts and go to a place where they can nourish their eyes, mind, and body, and resist all the worries and troubles in the world.
Russian mathematician Sofia Kovalevskaya was eager to learn when she was young, but at that time, girls were not taken seriously, and her heart always seemed to be covered with a layer of dust, and she gradually became inferior. But whether life is bright or bleak, we need to use silence to repay after all. Sophia moved with her family to the Paribino Manor, where the scenery is beautiful, the trees are dense, the forest is quiet, and the herds of cattle and sheep all send invitations to Sophia in an open attitude. She looked into the distance, her eyes were free, her mind was free, her mind was free from distractions, and she found the door to pursue the light of mathematics.
At a certain moment, I deeply realized that time is ruthless, and the torrent of life has knocked down the surging waves in front of us, like a mountain stream that is forever blocked, running slowly, leaving people helpless. So, I began to be keen on walking in nature, mountains, lakes, rural villages, and even those inconspicuous little wildflowers on the edge of the fields. For me, they all come from the bottom of my heart, bringing me uncompromising and fearless moving forward. Courage led me to find a way to break through.
One day, I read a poem written by the Song Dynasty poet Chen Yuan: "Don't talk about a thousand things outside your body, and there is a wind in front of the drunken flowers. You can invite the bright moon when you hold a candle. Why should you call your neighbors across the fence?" In the world, we are always ready to jump up, but when we reach the road leading to our hearts and confront the cold years with tenderness, we realize that life should be a journey full of flowers, lakes, mountains, clouds, Twilight...all I see is a poem, a flower. At that time, if you look at everything again, life will always give you a fresh breeze, and time will always give you a colorful life. The inner world is naturally light and light, indifferent to sorrow and joy.
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