Oh flowers, after blooming they wither, and in the following year they will bloom again; oh jade trees, light and heat intertwine, year after year creating new memories; oh seasons, blooming after being frozen, bringing forth hundreds of summers and billions of dreams. My life, like these flowers, these trees, these seasons, goes round and round, withering and blooming again, and now I must bid farewell to this cycle.
Discovering Myself
Here, I will squeeze out my life's writing, year after year; here, you allow your lifelong learning to bloom beautifully, time and again. Whether it is I or you, here we lament our failures, denounce the unfairness of fate, and here we celebrate our successes, praising the greatness of love. We praise not only maternal love, but also sing of the power of life itself. You carefully observe the bits and pieces of this world, whether good or bad, pouring them out here in my way. I come from contradictions, but where should I go next?
Under the torment and appreciation of fate, hot tears stream down my cheeks, these tears contain my pain and joy, struggling, shouting, weeping, and finally discovering myself. I ask the sages, where should I go? The sages respond with great waters and great mountains. The great waters surge and flow, I step forward to inquire, but they flow far away. I call out to the mountains, but they remain silent, not intending to say a word to me.
I trace the flow upstream, there is no gentle stream, no tranquil forest, only howling winds and raging waves. I have been blown down countless times by the fierce winds, doubting the sages' answers until I change my direction. The winds that once crushed me became my support. I hold onto a small boat, flowing towards the ocean along the river, those turbulent, overwhelming waters become gentle on this small boat, nurturing countless generations of children. This is the sages' "the highest good is like water," and it is also what I have realized: "When the tree desires peace, it must harmonize with the wind."
Having understood the sages' reason for responding to me with great waters, I step into the mountains to seek the reason for their response. Deep within this silent mountain, this seemingly lifeless forest, there are thousands of animals and tens of thousands of insects, nurturing countless life-saving water sources. Surely this is the sages' reason for responding to me with great mountains, silently loving and nurturing infinite life.
I have finally discovered myself, a self as vast as great waters and great mountains. But new questions arise; I finally understand who I am, but to whom should I show this self?
Facing Family
You are the devil, tormenting me in hell. Looking back at my past self, I have never appreciated or praised you. You have tortured me until I am bruised and battered, and I am powerless to resist, longing to escape this painful hell. I have never been disappointed in you because I have never hoped for you. You wield the long whip of love, striking my flesh; you use the shackles of love to imprison my soul. I cannot escape; I can only hide in the deep mountains, leap into the waves, seeking a deserted corner to silently wipe away my tears. Family, why is it not my gentle harbor but has become my hell?
I pour everything out here, I cry to you, you listen to my story, bearing all my pain with your thin body. Paper, I tell you bit by bit about my pain in the family with my pen; can you answer my confusion? Paper is different from the abundant mountains; it merely presents its pure white body to me, and like the mountains, it remains silent, quietly waiting.
You may be waiting for my exploration, but you are not as mysterious as the mountains, nor as turbulent as the waters. You silently present everything to me, laid bare, and there is nothing left for me to explore. I lean on your body, letting my tears fall drop by drop. The tears soak you, and as I wipe them away, you cannot restore yourself. The colorless tears stain my color, turning into ink, drawing lines across your body. I draw line after line, suddenly transforming into words, reflecting that vast self like great waters and great mountains; this is your answer.
I write my heart, my soul on your body, presenting you to that devil. The devil also sheds tears, and the tears cleanse him, revealing his true form, an angel with shining feathers, pure and white. Angel, I once misunderstood you; now I see you clearly, and in the future, I will praise you. I have shown you my true form, and you have finally revealed yourself. You have finally become my harbor; no, you have always been my harbor, sheltering me with great paternal and maternal love, waiting for my wings to be as radiant as yours, then to soar high.
I have finally shown my true self to my family, proving myself, and I have discovered my true form. My once cold heart has finally warmed up, as hot as the sun. To whom should I give this excess warmth?
Stepping into Society
The cold world kills everyone in despair; the broad world carries every life on its shoulders; the complex world weaves everything into a great net. In such a world, how many people, more tragic than Xianglin's wife, still die in despair? My pure heart cannot bear it and deeply rejects this world.
The tears shed by desperate people soak the earth; my tears pity the poor world. How to save the world, tormenting me, tossing and turning. I ask the sages again, but they do not respond. I inquire of paper, but it displays itself sparingly. Everything is indifferent, silent.
When all things in the world are silent, my hot heart has not cooled. I choose to step into this society in my own way. With pen and paper, I commemorate life, writing about insignificant dust. I struggle against the cold society, saving every life I can save, sharing a bit of my light, emitting a bit of my heat. I have been on this path, and I have also met a group of people with equally passionate souls. We have all felt pain, and thus we yearn to help more people escape from suffering, like Shi Tiesheng saving countless people with physical disabilities, using our light to warm this society. I have finally integrated into this society.
The tears we shed water a flower of fate, drop by drop; our enthusiasm warms a flower of fate, bit by bit. This flower of fate that belongs to me finally blooms under these tears and enthusiasm! Its branches and leaves are lush, showcasing its stunning form to me, to family, and to society.
Here, it must come to an end, just like the year 2023. I have come from contradictions, struggling with myself, family, and society, fighting against fate, and in the end, I have transformed into a blooming flower, a flower that blooms in every season. Fate has finally blossomed for me; the beautiful flower of fate has bloomed.
This article is synchronized and updated to xLog by Mix Space. The original link is https://fmcf.cc/posts/life/My2023