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Walking, washing dishes, peeling oranges

   I like to walk, walking brisk walking. When walking fast, there are clouds and flowing water under your feet, and the city's buildings and moving people and vehicles are like the floating light and glimpse of the fast rewinding in the time tunnel. The wind blows hair into the eyes, the traffic is rumbling, the ground shakes, and sometimes the city iron just whizzes past the head, like Hayao Miyazaki's cat bus rushing in the sky. Often in this turbulent, chaotic rhythm, I often think about the nature of life.

  What does "essence" mean? If you stare at a big tree, is it its immovable trunk or its flowers? If you listen to a river, is it essentially the empty space of the river bed that is waiting forever, or the river water that fills the river bed but chooses to leave forever? If you have a ruler in your hand, is it essentially to measure the emptiness in time or the fullness of time?

  We couldn't solve this abstract problem, and we couldn't see or grasp the thing "time", so we embodied life and drew it into a calendar grid, which was a large one, and spread it flat on the table. One grid is a day's life. The average life span of a Chinese is 76 years old, and life is the 27740 grids. After a day, draw a grid, and when the grid is finished, the whole life is over.

  I was walking through the streets and alleys in this bustling city. I saw a convoy of campaigners chanting slogans. I saw the firetruck whizzing away with a panic alarm. I saw a lame woman sitting on the side of the road. Thin wire hooks strung white magnolia flowers. I saw huge advertisements as tall as the buildings selling British-designed mansions... Are these the essence?

  Thoreau apparently asked the same question before and made a decision.

  I walked into the forest because I wanted to live with my heart, and I wanted to face the essence of life. I want to know if I can learn anything from life, instead of finding out that I haven't lived at all when I die. I don't want to live a life that is not life, because life is too precious; I don't want to "forget it" unless I have to. I want to live deeply and drain the bones of life; I want to live a solid, Spartan life, excluding all non-essential things, I want to completely cut off the mess, and drive my life to a dead corner, cut it to see bone.

  Obviously, to face the essence of life is to completely abandon ordinary people to fill up 27,000 squares. Take Thoreau, for example.

  But some people put the choice at the end.

  Sachs is an expert in neurology, but is called the "Poet Laureate of Medicine" by the New York Times. In 2015, the 81-year-old Sachs learned that he only had a few months left to live. He said:

  I feel that my vision is immediately clear. If it is not essential, no more time will be given. I must focus on myself, my job, and my friends. I no longer watch the news at night, no longer care about global warming politics and debates. This is not indifference, this is detachment. I am still very concerned about the Middle East issues, warming issues, inequality between rich and poor, etc., but these are not my business anymore. They belong to the future.

  On the eve of finishing the last grid, he summarized:

  I can't pretend not to be afraid, but my most sincere feeling is grateful.

  I have loved and been loved; I have gained a lot, and I have paid a little; I read, travel, think, write, and interact with the world, a special interaction between the author and the reader. The most important thing is that on this beautiful planet, I am a sentient being, an animal who knows how to think. This alone is already a supreme grace and adventure.

  Sachs passed away not long after writing this farewell essay.

  Lakeside Laboratory is

  "? Do you think you have a life and you face to face": I asked a good friend, he is an internationally renowned scientist

  , he said: "thought about this issue, because no time; I only know one thing: I Will die in my laboratory."

  Finding a material, detecting a substance, is the only thing he prepares to fill the 27740 grid.

  "But," I said, "Don't you think that in the end, your own knowledge and feelings about life are the most important thing for yourself, your family and friends?" I told him Thoreau went to the forest The story of going to life by the lakeside.

  He listened quietly, and then said, "Did you know? My laboratory is my lakeside."

  "Isn't it?" I said provocatively, "He went to the lakeside with a high degree of self-consciousness. When you enter the laboratory, you just fall into it and get caught up with an idea--for example, you won the Nobel Prize and got caught ——For example, discovering a new substance, full of it, and too busy to think about anything else. There is no lakeside in your life."

  "Miss," he turned the revolving chair over, looked at me and said, " Have you ever read Thich Nhat Hanh?" Yes

  . What one line talks about is just consciously necessary. When washing dishes, know that you are doing dishes; when peeling oranges, know that you are peeling oranges; when walking, know that you are walking. Every drop of water falls between your fingers, every scent of orange peel splashes out instantly, and every time your heel steps on the wetness and softness of the soil, you have to perceive and observe in all directions.

  "If this kind of all-round perception and observation, I have felt it in my scientific experiments," he said slowly, "then do you think I am face to face with life?"

  His "counterattack", eh , Very in place.

  Newcomers to the traveler

  asked me: "One day off is how writer?"

  Let me tell you the day off Miller.

  When Miller immersed himself in writing the novel "Tropic of Cancer", he set himself "eleven rules":

  1. Do only one thing at a time. 2. Don't start writing new books. 3. Don't be nervous. Do what's at hand calmly, happily, and recklessly. 4. Do according to plan, not with emotions. 5. At least it can work when you can't create. 6. Do a little finishing every day without adding fertilizer. 7. Stay human. Hang out with friends, hang out, drink whenever you want. 8. Don't be a slave horse. Work is for fun. 9. Stop if you want, but continue the next day. Focus, find the core, and simplify the complex. 10. Don't think about what book you want to write. Just think about the book you are writing. 11. Always write first. Painting, music, friends, and movies are all behind the palace.

  There is also a doodle reminder for himself in his notes:

  Morning: If the mood is not right, take notes, arrange, and use as inspiration. If you are in a good mood, write.

  Afternoon: Handling chapters, precise planning chapters. No interruptions, no distractions. Write to the chapter to complete.

  Evening: mix with friends. Go to the cafe to read a book. Go shopping in unfamiliar neighborhoods, walk if it rains, or ride a bike if it doesn’t rain.

  Write when the emotions are right, but only write less important things. If you are not inspired or tired, just draw...

  The content in my grid is so similar to Miller. I draw sketches in the subway train, ride a bicycle alone, go to a cafe to read novels, take pictures while walking, hang out with friends at night, drink as much as I want, and retreat when I write.

  After reading the book for a whole morning, I left half of the "today" grid; looking out the window, the sky looked like rice paper overturned by an inkstone, and the ink smudged the distant ridgeline of Yangming Mountain. Decided to take an umbrella and go for a walk. Every time I go out for a walk is a small adventure-choose a spot on the map that I haven't been to, the subway takes me there, emerges from the ground, and begins the adventure of the whole street.

  I have a special function: standing at the subway exit, facing the streets and lanes paved and exhibited in front of me, adjusting the focus of my eyes in my inner soul app, this familiar city can suddenly become unfamiliar, like a black and white photo suddenly Converted into heavy-color oil paintings, full of mystery and surprises everywhere; I became a newcomer to explore.

  A city that is both ugly and beautiful can also be a lakeside where the "essence of existence" is cultivated.


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