Be floating life stolen half day free
Be floating life stolen half day free
Tired today! Heart was surging a lot Bordeaux Wine!
Some fleeting, seems clear bottoming out of the stone came down, fish fresh sand gravel, Xi suddenly between, Shuer Yuanshi; some slowly precipitation down, waiting for the silent accumulation brewing, and ultimately to shine through. As an ancient life, because of the time and rich moisturizing.
Don't know why there is always a feeling of sitting in a time machine. How many days, how many feelings flashed. Face upward to hope toward the sky, although it is to enter the spring, but seem to have felt the breath of summer that flies go years, unexpectedly be like summer sunshine through the dense shade, full of stains or spots refute refraction in time on the wall. Old people have inexplicable miss, inexplicable uneasiness in the subtle restlessness mask house.
Recently, suddenly busy again. Perhaps the illusion of the heart. In fact, life is still the same, work is still the same, everything is no change. Just do not know why, suddenly feel busy. For a week, in retrospect, as if no time like at the moment, so quietly sitting here, distractions, the mightiest and meditation. On the keyboard, tap slow play, leaving the way clear mask house.
Listen to the cuckoo, the heart quietly feeling: long! I think last spring, heard the cuckoo call? Like? It seems! Should have no memory! Well this year? This year there seems to be a few times, but seems to have is a Saturday, Sunday or holiday, wake up from sleep, in the morning of the first ray of sunshine, suddenly eardrum into a series of sowing Valley... Sowing valley...... So familiar, so familiar! A good mood the day. Don't get up, feel the charming spring jumps in the apical flows on children.
Wrote here, can't help but wonder, spring cuckoo, on Saturday or Sunday is a holiday? I think the funny, obviously not. So, what reason, let you ignore so many days, so we cry mask house
?
A few days ago reading, Wang Zengqi's "no matter this meditation" in the heart. Strictly speaking, he and his grandfather is common "no matter this meditation. My grandfather is a life, is very particular about the taste of the people. A couple of vacant rooms, eaves several sycamore, indoor wood, lacquer table, rattan chair bed. The house looks north, the summer is very cool. The south wall hanging banners: no matter this meditation (a poem by Su Dongpo. One: the next day when the two day).
He's not used to, I became a frequent visitor here. It is not difficult to imagine, summer afternoon, when people fall asleep, I holding the book, crank stalk, or brew cup of tea, lying on the rattan chair, as if laosengruding, drunk crazily indulge, two things I forgot!
This is our practice has traversed the distance, you and I are dust grains of soil, as ordinary roadside grass jasmine. Perhaps the only dongshixiaopin, but no matter how, in some life, occasionally some similar.
I still remember that summer on the lawn, sitting or lying, or even walking in the fields, can smell breeze shallow wandering the faint smell of the grass, in the nose if there seems to be no flow.
Autumn, like the leap step on, that a piece of a piece or a cluster of a cluster of yellow leaves, smiling listening to the rustling sound, feel at the foot of the one of the fresh life, with your own unique impassioned melody, do you and she didn't know how to say goodbye: leaves is not heartless, turned into a winter mud re Hwan Hua.
Winter, like walking in the deep snow, creak...... Creak sound, played a beautiful music. Occasionally fly up a foot of snow, the heart is with the piece of broken jade nectar, flying in the wind dancing, and seems to be back to the innocence of childhood.
Now, the spring, but addicted to that piece of green leaves. Perhaps they are too simple and unadorned, relative in flower enchanting more admiration of tough grass; relative in red dazzling, appreciate more vibrant green. Every campus in the tree new spit leaves, which trees and lush the, even sweet scented osmanthus trees old alternate, dark green and light rust red, staggered students can also lead you gaze.
Especially walking in that a green belt, hand can touch, that one of the green elves. Especially the top bud branches, then touch, soft, so soft. Let you have to be overcome by one's feelings accidentally put it, crushed, or force instability, to fall to strike terror into the heart of the branches. In your eyes, it is a delicate skin of newborn babies, "" blow play can be broken.
Walk in such a delicate fresh green world, the heart is how quiet, leisurely warm and happy! Especially at the moment, the spring breeze can bathe with warm bath, March!
No matter this meditation, is a proper life space, is a beautiful art, is a clap of wisdom. A diffuse reward a pure music, the melody under the blank lyrics, is fascinating unlimited wonderful!
Born in the ride, walking in the sea smoke. No one, can not tired, confused? We just feel emotions, experience parting, to attend the meeting tangled helpless flawless. Don't forget, repair a world "peach blossom" occasionally "no matter this meditation", flying heart, and his dialogue.
As for the others, and take care. How?
There is a poem: smell the flowers, the mood banfo half fairy.
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