《On Life》-bingxin

I dare not say what life is, I can only say what life is like.

Life is like a spring river flowing east. It originates from the top. Ice and snow are its predecessors. He gathered many small streams together into one mighty wave, and ran down, and zigzagged through the cliffs, and overthrew the sand, and carried the rolling sands with him, merrily and bravely away, enjoying all that came his way:

Sometimes he was interrupted by a crag, and he dashed furiously, roaring, whirling, pushed forward and back by the waves, until he had passed and fallen over the precipice and he was at peace for a thousand miles. Sometimes he passed thin flat sand, setting sun fragrant grass, saw clip the bank red peach blossom, he is happy and shy, quietly flow, low singing, gently through this a romantic trip.

Sometimes he met with a storm, and this shock, this thunder, shocked his soul, and the wind blew him up, and the rain beat upon him, and for a moment he was cloudy and disturbed, and when the storm was over, the sky was clear, and only gave him many new powers.

Sometimes he met the sunset and the new moon, shining and projecting on him, cold and warm: he wanted nothing but rest, nothing but sleep, and the same advancing force was still pushing him on...

At last, one day, he saw the sea in the distance. He had come to the end of his journey, and the sea held his breath and bowed his head, how vast and great she was! How bright, how dark! The sea solemnly stretched out its arm to receive him, and he fell silently into her arms. He was melted, naturalized, not happy, nor sad!

Perhaps one day, he will rise from the rain on the sea again, fly west, form a river, and then rush down the stone wall on both sides, and then find the peach blossom on the bank. Yet I dare not speak of the afterlife, nor believe in it!

Life is like a small tree, he gathered many vitality from the ground, under the snow and ice, in the early spring wet soil, brave and happy to break out of the shell. He may grow on a plain, on a rock, on a wall, if only he looks up and sees the heavens, oh! See the sky! He stretched out his young leaves to absorb the air, to absorb the sun, to sing in the rain, to dance in the wind.

He may be under the shade of the tree, may be under the pressure of the tree, but the strength of his youth finally makes him through the branches and leaves to break free, in the sun to stand tall! He met arrogant luxurious spring, he may open a full tree of flowers, bees and butterflies around him, flying noise, birds in his branches to enjoy singing, he will hear the nightingale sing, azaleas crying, perhaps also hear the owl bird strange song.

He grows to the luxuriant middle age, he stretches out his shade like a cover, to shade the flowers and grass under the tree, he bears fruit, to show the earth endless sweet fragrance. The autumn wind blows his leaves from dark green to crimson. Under the autumn sun, he has a solemn and brilliant, not the pride of flowering, nor the happiness of fruit, but the peace and happiness after success!

Finally, one day, the winter wind rolled and shook his yellow leaves and dry branches, he was powerless to dance in the air, groaning under the roots, the earth solemnly stretched out its arms to receive him, he fell in her arms without a word. He was melted, naturalized, he could not say happy, nor sad!

Perhaps one day he will break out of the ground again. And grow into a small tree, and then through the thick Mang Yan, and then listen to the song of the nightingale, but I dare not say the next life, also dare not believe in the next life.

The universe is a big life, and we are part of its atmosphere. The river flows into the sea, the leaves return to the root, we are a leaf in the great life, a drop in the great life. How humble, how small we are in the great life of the universe, and the growth of the activity of a drop by a leaf makes up the whole evolutionary operation of the universe. Remember: not every river flow into the sea, does not flow will become a dead lake; Not every seed can become a tree, does not grow will become an empty shell! Life is not always happy, nor is it always painful, happiness and pain are mutually reinforcing. It means that the water channel has to pass through different banks, and the trees have to pass through constant four hours. In happiness we should thank life, in pain we also want to thank life. Pleasure is exciting, but pain is beautiful. I read an adage once that said, "May there be enough clouds in your life to make a beautiful sunset."