Sit alone

  Sitting alone-sitting alone, thinking quietly, or thinking about nothing, in a daze.
  Is it a tranquility? Is it kind of indifferent? Or is it a kind of ecstasy away from the crowd? Have both!
  Li Bai, a poet of the Tang Dynasty, sat alone in Jingting Mountain, and felt that all the birds were flying high, and the lone cloud went free. Look at each other, only Jingting Mountain.
  Wang Wei has a poem, which I like very much: “Sit alone in the secluded Huangli, the fragrance of tea surrounds the bamboo clumps.” Thinking about it, Wang Wei is not only a poet, but also a connoisseur of tea and tea.
  In modern society, the secular is so many that being able to sit alone with a cup of tea, even for a moment, will refresh your heart.
  Seated, scented, and warm-the embrace of leaves and water blends thousands of styles in the world; the soft kiss of lips and cups collide with the worldly romance.
  Sitting alone, you don’t have to close your eyes cross-legged, just sit quietly, in front of the window, under the lamp, next to the flowers, trees, and low walls, as long as you have time and opportunity.
  Sitting alone in front of the window, you can hear the patter of rain, just like walking into the poetry of Tang and Song Dynasties. At this time, the artistic conception is most suitable for
  reminiscence … Sitting alone under the lamp, you will think of mothers giving shoes for their children. The teardrops in the eyes…
  Sit alone in a secluded place in the thick shade of a tree, watching the children in the distance laughing and playing on the lawn, picking up the fallen kapok and putting them together to make interesting pictures. The old people sit around the rose pavilion and enjoy tea and listen to music.
  In any corner of the world, you can sit alone, sitting yourself up as a dust.
  Sitting in the study room alone is a bath of spirit and soul. Annoyance and impetuosity were disarmed the moment they entered the study. The nobility, splendor, luxury, and dignity of this kind of spirit are like a person’s privacy, which is hard to be recognized by others. This is something I am proud of-try to make myself simpler and clearer.
  Sitting alone by the stream, putting aside everything, not thinking about anything, just blowing the wind, basking in the sun, and admiring the long-lost riverside and pastoral scenery.
  I once sat on Yucang Mountain alone, waiting for the setting sun-on a mushroom rock, half-lying and half-leaning, in a posture that is beyond the world, looking up at the sky, clothing from the wind, and beard fluttering.
  There is no traveler, and no one sitting on the mountain. Between the heaven and the earth, there is only Dashan and me-you can forget the case, the utilitarian, the society, and the meeting today.
  Sitting alone has the sense of Zen, sitting quietly by yourself, without any fetters in your thoughts, you can see the chrysanthemums of the Jin Dynasty in pairs, you can have a sincere dialogue with the poets of the Tang Dynasty, and you can also appreciate the landscape of the Song Dynasty. Or the misty rain of the Ming Dynasty.
  One day, sitting alone by the small bridge and flowing water-under the bridge, the stream is trickling, and the grass is green on both sides. There are not many wild flowers, and occasionally a few dotted them. I wanted to go out to find a touch of green, but I never collided with the spring scenery. So, sitting alone in the spring breeze, watching the noisy branches of the spring, listening to the spring water flowing over the bridge…
  Sitting alone in the evening, surrounded by tranquility, my heart is clear. Who said that dusk is melancholy, “The sunset is infinitely good, but it’s just near dusk.” Lu You said, “It’s already dusk alone,” Li Qingzhao said, “Dongli took the wine after dusk.” Evening dusk is sad, but also beautiful and romantic-sunset The evening photos below are still full of life. The sun sets, and the Ming Dynasty is shining again!
  Choose a midsummer afternoon, sit alone and go fishing—the sun still has a bit of residual heat, and the shore overlooks the reflection of the setting sun, accompanied by a gentle breeze. A person, sitting by the river alone, without applause or applause. Watching every move of the fish float quietly, being quiet, focused, thinking…Life is just a fishing. There is a complacent start, and there may not necessarily be expected gains. There are unsatisfactory frustrations during the fishing process, and there are also moments when the willows are bright. , Mixed joys and worries-this is also the Zen of fishing alone.
  The most poetic thing about fishing alone is Hanjiang Snow. In the face of “cold snow”, only “fishing alone” can you gradually get into a better place. It is also an ancient Chinese painting: the vast world, the mountains are covered with snow, the flowing springs are cold, there are no birds, and there are people fishing alone.
  Sitting alone often has a place of “independence”. No, I imagine, sitting on a flat boat alone, wandering in the long river of history, floating among the vastness of literature.
  Above the eastward spring water, the Lord of Nantang looked at the lonely phoenix tree in the deep courtyard silently. The sorrow of subjugation and the pain of leaving his wife left him speechless. “Cut it constantly, the reason is still chaotic, it is sadness. Don’t just feel the general feeling.” He wrote this famous sentence from the ages on the blank paper he wrote on the case.
  The boat floated and came to Su Shi’s sea of ​​poems. “When will the bright moon come?” Su Shi raised his glass in hand, as if to ask Qingtian clearly.
  The small boat drifted into Li Qingzhao’s heart. Begonia is still the same, Qingzhaoren is thinner than Huanghua. “Know it or not, it should be green, fat, red and thin.” On Lan Zhou, her red lips lightly opened: “A lovesickness, two sorrows, there is no way to get rid of this feeling, only to lower the eyebrows, but to the heart.”

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