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I am the violet in front of the Buddha.

I am the violet in front of the Buddha.

Author: butterflies on rainy nights

I am a violet in front of the Buddha, bathed in quiet Sanskrit singing, quietly blooming on the river of ecstasy. The almost still river is crystal clear. Buddha said that forgetting Sichuan reflects the joys and sorrows of the world.

Therefore, I often look at those men and women, laughing, crying, happy and sad. I don't understand why they always laugh less, cry more, be happy less and be sad more.

I asked Buddha, and Buddha lovingly told me that life is a kind of practice. Only by seeing through the world of mortals can we fully realize it. I still don't understand. Buddha said I don't need to understand. More often, I am quietly blooming, listening to the wind, watching the rain and getting drunk on the moon.

I still remember that morning, I saw something I had never seen before. Pale, blue and gentle things gently enveloped the whole forgetfulness, holding me lovingly, just as the Buddha looked at me. I only remember the Buddha whispering, doomed love, doomed love. I don't understand these two words. I asked Buddha what it was, and Buddha said it was fog. I asked the Buddha what is predestined love, and the Buddha looked at me affectionately, just like a fog holding me, saying that I would understand one day.

I am a violet in front of the Buddha, quietly watching the world, day after day, watching so many people reincarnation again and again, repeating the story of past lives. I don't understand why they don't want to give up the world of mortals when there is an opportunity in front of them. I asked the Buddha, who lovingly scooped up the water around him and said that you were driving beautifully. I quietly bloom on the forgotten river. Year after year, watching the gathering and scattering of the world, I don't know how many years, maybe decades, maybe hundreds of years have passed. Finally, one day, I said to the Buddha, I want to go to earth. The Buddha still looked at me lovingly and asked me if I really decided to leave him and go to earth.

I'm not sure. I just looked at the Buddha. Buddha said that tenderness, doomed love is doomed to escape. Buddha said, don't let me drink the water I forgot about Sichuan, let me leave my memory here. Buddha said he would take me back. Buddha said, when I really get someone's love, take me back. Buddha said, don't let me be defiled and hurt by this world. I was just about to ask the Buddha what love is. The Buddha held me in his palm and sent me into the world of mortals.

I became a person, a woman. My mother told me that in the summer when I was born, many lotus buds suddenly appeared in the lotus pond in front of the village. On the morning when I was born, the lotus was in full bloom, and my father named me Hanhan. My mother also said that on the third day after I was born, a monk came to see me and said that I had wisdom roots ... My mother still had something to say, but her father's eyes stopped her. I didn't ask, I just listened quietly. I know, I am a violet before the Buddha. I didn't tell my parents. I prefer lavender. When I forget the river, I can always remember that I am lavender. I often think of Sanskrit, the breeze, the quiet bamboo and the bright moon.

I often go to the big pond in front of the village in the afternoon to see the lotus flowers in the pond. I still remember it was a summer afternoon. I sat under the willow tree. My mother said that willow tree is 500 years old. I know it is 800 years old. It also knows that I am a violet in front of Buddha. Every time I go, it talks to me. I looked at the lotus in the pool, quietly, just like when I was slightly blooming.

I still remember a breeze that made my skirt float. When I brushed away the hair that blocked my eyes, I looked back and saw him. He is wearing a blue shirt, just like the fog hundreds of years ago. When he saw me, the book in his hand fell to the ground. I forgot to look back and kept looking at him. It was not until the willow gently brushed my arm with its branches that I remembered that my mother said that women can't do this. I left in a hurry with a skirt in my hand. I was fourteen years old.

Later, when I went to see the Lotus again, I often met him. Slowly, I know his name is Qing. He always holds a book, and then when I look at the lotus, he reads. I know he's watching me, too. Willow told me. Slowly, we started talking, and he taught me a lot. The first antique song he taught me was: White dew is frost, so-called Iraqis are on the water side ... What he often reads is, close pigeons, on the river continent, my lady, my gentleman. ..... and then sing again and again, oh, welcome, sleep, sleep, toss and turn. I don't know what that means. I just felt like I was hugged by the fog that morning.

Then one day, he looked at me nervously and held out his hand and said to me: life and death are rich, and my son is happy; Hold your hand and grow old with your son. I don't quite understand. I just think that when that sentence comes out, it's like Buddha talking to me at ordinary times. So I knew that this person was chosen by Buddha for me. So, I gently put my hand on his. That year, I was sixteen and twenty-two.

Qing said, start a career first, then get married. Mom and dad are very satisfied with him and agree with him. The two families held an engagement party for us. I don't quite understand why everyone is so happy, which is quite different from usual happiness. My mother began to teach me something, saying that this is a woman's job. I see fewer days of lotus flowers. Willow told me that without me, the lotus pond became very lonely. Loneliness, what is this? I don't quite understand. My life hasn't changed much. At eighteen, I married Qing.

Qing is very kind to me. He always comes back to accompany me as soon as possible. He often goes back to my mother's house with me and plays chess with my father. My mother loves me very much and doesn't want me to come out. I just watched dad and Qing play chess. Qing always makes way for dad, and Qing also taught me to play chess. I can see that Qing has skillfully made way for her father. There are many things about youth, and I always write under the lamp. I can only bring him a cup of tea to polish his ink. At this time, the Youth Federation will put down the pen in his hand, hold me in his arms, rest his head on my shoulder and gently call the water lotus in my ear. Manager Qing likes to call me Shuilian, saying that it is his Shuilian. He said that I have a faint lotus fragrance. As we all know, I am the violet before the Buddha.

In those days, I never thought about my life before the Buddha. My life used to be quiet, but gradually, some people in the village began to talk about me. Willow told me. The reason is that I failed to give birth to a child for Qing. I think it's strange. I was originally a violet. Why should I have children? Qing said nothing, but I also saw his sigh. Mom asked me, too I don't know anything. I feel that my heart is no longer calm.

I began to recall the days when I forgot the river. I remember the Buddha told me that as long as I really got someone's love, he would come to pick me up. But when was that? I asked Liu Shu if he had seen the Buddha, but Liu Shu didn't say anything. I realized that the willow tree didn't have much time. Originally, I wanted to ask Liu Shu what love is. So I didn't ask.

That day, my mother took me home without saying anything. Qing hasn't come back yet. I think it's a little strange. Dad just looked at me with a sigh and called my name occasionally. I heard the joy of getting married in the village, just like marrying Qing. I felt strange, but I didn't ask anything. I told my mother that I wanted to see the lotus flowers. My mother tried to stop me, but my father stopped her, just telling me to remember to come back for dinner. I wondered why I wasn't allowed to go home, my home with Qing, but I still didn't say anything, just nodded. It's not summer now, there is nothing in the lotus pond, and the willows are aging a lot, which I didn't know until I came to earth. The color of the sun is very strange, red, willow said, red is very sad, what is sadness, I don't know.

I remember clearly that the red one, the blue one, and the one I sewed for him became very unclear. He flew to my side and hugged me tightly. I am surprised that Qing is gentle, but it hurts to hug me. He called me again and again, water lotus, water lotus, my water lotus. I'm still in his arms, and I just feel my heart beating strangely. From Qing's incoherent nonsense, I know that his parents want to take a concubine for Qing because I have never been able to give birth to a child. Qing didn't want to. His parents said they didn't want to divorce me. Today is the day of concubinage, but he ran away. He said, his wife, only me. I listened quietly. I have a strange feeling that I don't have much time with Qing. As I know, willow's time is running out.

Later, Qing didn't bring a concubine, and her parents didn't say anything. I don't know exactly what they said. I don't like going out more and more I occasionally go for a walk in the lotus pond, only to see that the willows are getting weaker and weaker, and I can't help it.

I remember the Buddha said that everything has a fixed number and cannot be forced. Qing has more and more jobs and often works late. I also poured him tea and touched up his ink, and he often held me in his arms and breathed my smell. It's just that we don't write lyrics for poems anymore. I began to recall the days when I forgot the river under the lamp.

Later, Qing sometimes didn't go home. He began to languish. Withered, said the willow. Mom said that I lost a lot of weight. I smiled faintly at my mother and said nothing. In fact, I learned from other people's gossip that the last time I gave Qingna's concubine was at Qingnian's parents' house, but although Qingnian was not there, she still entered Qingnian's house. I also know that Qing sometimes stays at her parents' house when she doesn't come back.

I started waiting for the Buddha to pick me up, but why hasn't the Buddha come yet? That day, I remember it was summer, because I saw the lotus coming back. I didn't cook because I didn't know if Qing would come back. The door suddenly rang, and I thought it was Qing who came back, so I went out to meet him. Who knows, it's a woman, very beautiful, wearing a pink shirt. Her eyes are red, too. When she saw me, another kind of water flowed out of her eyes. She kept saying, it's you, it's you, it's you living in the heart of youth, it's always you. Although I have never seen you, only you can live in the heart of youth. Because of you, I can only be his concubine. Because of you, I have been married to him for three years, and he has never touched me, because of you, because of you. Why don't you give him a baby? In this way, I can cross the rubicon and have no illusions. I don't understand. I just watched the water keep coming out of her eyes. I know, it's called tears. She grabbed her hair and said repeatedly, but I love him, I love him, I'd rather just be his concubine, and I can stand him not touching me, but he doesn't even look at me, even at me. I stepped forward and tried to untie the hair from her hand. She suddenly grabbed my arm and said, "Do you love Qing? If you love him, why don't you give him a baby? Did you know that he called your name? Water lotus. " I feel horrible. At this time, Qing came back, hurried, pulled her away and held me in her arms. Say to her, "You go." She cried, but she left.

Green carried me into the room and looked at me in a hurry and explained incoherently. I know he did it for me, and he won't accept a nominal concubine without me. He looked at me anxiously and repeatedly said, "Shuilian, my wife is only you, Shuilian, Shuilian." I gently caressed his head to calm him down.

The blue one, the one I made, I smiled at him slowly. Qing once again held out his hand to me and said: life and death are rich, and children are happy; Hold your hand and grow old with your son. I slowly extended my hand to him. At this moment, I suddenly heard a long-lost Sanskrit song. I know the Buddha has come to meet me.

I watched my body gradually become transparent, and my green expression suddenly became startled. No, it's sad He reached out to hug me, but he couldn't get close to me. I finally said a word to him: I am a violet in front of the Buddha. That year, I was twenty-four and thirty.

I am a violet in front of the Buddha, and I have returned to Forgotten River, accompanied by a quiet Sanskrit singing. I am familiar with the limpidity of the Forgetting River, the limpidity of the wind, the slender bamboo and the bright moon, stretching myself gently. The Buddha gently scooped up the water around me and said lovingly, I took you back. I saw a bead in the Buddha's hand, and one was missing. The initial ease has passed. I began to get used to staring at the river of forgetfulness again and looking at the right and wrong of this world.

I saw Qing. One day in the sky, one year on earth, how long have I been back? Young and haggard, yes, willow taught me this word, haggard. Still wearing a blue shirt, standing by the lotus pond in front of the village, staring at the lotus in the pond. I suddenly have an indescribable feeling in my heart. My petals fall and float on the forgotten river.

As the days passed, I grew up a little, but the woman in red in my memory was no longer with him. He goes to the lotus pond every day all year round. I looked at him silently through the river of forgetfulness. Buddha never said anything about me, but looked at me lovingly.

I only heard the Buddha say once that it took me ten years to get rid of my doomed love. As I grow older, I feel my heart is full. It suddenly occurred to me that if I were still human, I would definitely shed a kind of water called tears.

On that day, I remember very clearly that the faint, blue and gentle fog gently enveloped the whole forgetfulness and held me lovingly, just like green held me. I remember clearly that there was a green voice in the fog, calling me softly, Shuilian, my Shuilian. I smiled, ashamed to bloom, revealing all my fragrance, I know, I finally understand.

Buddha said, a boat in 500 years, a pillow in 1000 years. We forged karma in the river of forgetfulness, but there was not enough time to repair it.

Love my Buddha and make up for our lack of time with a Buddha bead. I am blooming brilliantly, leisurely in blue mist, and my love is in blue mist. After blue mist dispersed, the Forgotten River was as quiet and clear as ever. The river was covered with beautiful violet petals, which made the whole Buddha fragrant, leaving only a lotus leaf, which trembled slightly.

Idiot, idiot, Buddha sighed lovingly and reached out to pick up the lotus. A drop of lotus seed, like a tear, fell into the palm of a bergamot, exquisitely carved and crystal clear, and condensed into a bead.

(Note: The real name of "Butterfly on a Rainy Night" is Zuo Rou, a Beijinger, born in 1982. She has a congenital heart disease. On the night of August 18, 20065438, she died of heart failure on the plane from Beijing to Japan for treatment, at the age of 65438 (at an altitude of 30,000 feet, close to heaven). Her virtue is convincing enough. Her talent is enough to stand out from the crowd. She reads widely, is good at quoting classics and writes well. She is smart and cute on the internet, and her games are unremarkable. She was jealous of her beauty and died young in a beautiful year, which was unfair. His pen name "Butterfly on a rainy night" finally returned to be a butterfly on a rainy night. As Pickpen said: 30,000 feet high, maybe it is close to heaven. ...

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Broken beauty

Sometimes I even believe that only broken things are beautiful.

I like broken roots, withered branches, withered leaves, rusty clocks in ancient temples, broken doors, broken walls, deeply covered autumn grass in the courtyard, cracked jade fences on sloping stone steps, falling clouds and cold stars, withered stems and withered willows, silent old people walking around in faded clothes to pick up rags, and old schoolbags made of flowers on their thin shoulders to go to school. I even like a broken beer bottle or a crushed can rolling silently on the ground and then standing still. Whenever I see these insignificant human things, I always stare at them intently until I look at them in a far, far away realm.

I don't know how beautiful they are, so I can't imagine how beautiful they are. So, I was deeply immersed in this unimaginable beauty, digging up their beautiful past, and then, looking back suddenly, I brought these two life forms to my eyes and shed tears. This inexplicable everything contains many unspeakable joys and sorrows, eternal sadness and boundless desolation in the vicissitudes of life!

I like watching people cry, listening to people roar, spitting out some buried memories after drinking wine, and watching a unrequited lover standing silently in the rain with an umbrella on his beloved's wedding night. I like people who are always quiet and peaceful to talk endlessly about their sufferings. People who have been happy and satisfied will suddenly feel depressed and lost. Old people will remember their yellow youth, and arrogant people will regret the love they missed. I like the sad smile of a star after falling out of favor, the painful look back of the leading actor in his twilight years, the loser in officialdom drinking tea alone, and the beauty lost by the beauty mourning for the mirror. I like people to dig out the most painful part of themselves when they are weakest and unprepared, then tremble, then cry, and then let their hearts bleed.

At this time, even if I don't know anything about the person in front of me, I will definitely believe that this person has a beautiful soul that was once beautiful and is still beautiful. The bitterness and suffering he experienced, as well as those unforgettable worries and emotions, are the deepest imprint in his life and the most treasured storage. Only when his reputation is ruined will he release these long-lived pigeons and open the window to reveal his true face.

What can be broken must be really alive. Lin Daiyu broke up because of her unforgettable love; San Mao's breaking stems from her understanding and detachment at that moment after the vicissitudes of life; Van Gogh was broken because the sun used a golden knife to make him suffer constantly in the light; Beethoven's smash is a tragic movement of black and white keys's impact on life with great spirituality. If the breaking of ordinary people reveals the purest and most beautiful light of human nature, then the breaking of these excellent souls, like silver fireworks, fills the sky above us. How many dreams and the true meaning of life have we learned from it!

I know that not many people can enjoy this unique happiness and joy like me, and not many people know how this broken beauty covers the fields and grasslands in front of our door finely and densely, just like the moonlight tonight.

Who said: The beauty of a flower lies in its blooming. And blooming is actually the breaking of the flower heart.

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