Will life get thinner and thinner?

Many friends have asked me such a question: "Will life become thinner and thinner?" ? At first, the author didn't take it seriously, so I will patiently answer the meaning. Later, as more and more friends asked this question, I really couldn't stand it. I simply answered him: "How thick is your life? Is it a few centimeters or meters? " It's a bit vulgar, but it's reasonable. Imagine that you don't even know how thick your life is. How can you know that you will get thinner and thinner? Is it possible to measure "life" with a meter ruler? Of course, the ancients also said that "beauty is unlucky." This word "thin" is not only a bumpy fate, but also a short life. It seems that the thinner a person's life is, the more fortune-telling his fate is. Is it reasonable? We try to analyze it from two aspects: first, fate is doomed and cannot be changed. According to this statement, your fate will not affect you at all, no matter whether you find someone to calculate it once or a hundred times. Of course, there will be no truth that your life is getting thinner and thinner. Second, fate can be changed, and fortune-telling can change fate. According to this statement, fortune telling can change a person's fate, so there are two possibilities: one is to change a person's fate through fortune telling; First, I changed my fortune through fortune telling. In this case, the above two possibilities each account for 50% of the probability, and there will be no "life is getting thinner and thinner". Seeing this, it is estimated that everyone will understand that life will not get thinner and thinner. What I want to tell you is that people who are really unlucky are the following categories-third, fortune-telling professionals-and I personally think that such people are really unlucky. There is such a group, which is often composed of several married women (either with bad marriage or good marriage). They are typical fortune tellers. As long as they hear that there are fortune tellers there, they will take the trouble to calculate. When they find a local "master", they will go to Daxian, a "fortune teller" within 500 kilometers of Fiona Fang. Sit down in the position of fortune teller, calm and steady, and ask the master to have a comprehensive look. The master said that she had reached her heart, and she admired it beyond words; The master didn't speak her mind, so she disdained to go. The most important thing is that no matter what the master said is accurate or not, as long as she leaves there, she will ask the master to tell her fortune again in a few days. Why is this happening? I think this is also a mental illness, which I call "self-lost". I lost my soul and my mind. Why is her life getting thinner and thinner? Because her fortune-telling is not to solve problems, but to find a tool that can temporarily adjust her mind. As a result, the more she lived, the more empty she became. If she says she is good, he will have to find someone to verify it. She said that she was not good, so she had to find someone to correct it for her, so she became a "pervert". Do you think her life will get thinner and thinner? During the Spring and Autumn Period and the Warring States Period, a father and son went to war. The father became a general and the son was just a pawn. Another horn sounded, the drums roared, and my father solemnly raised an quiver with an arrow in it. The father solemnly said to his son, "This is the treasure arrow at home. It is extremely powerful when you carry it with you, but you must never take it out. " This is an extremely delicate quiver, made of thick cowhide, inlaid with faint shiny copper edges, and look at the arrow's exposed tail. You can tell at a glance that it is made of fine peacock feathers. The son, beaming, greedily speculated about the appearance of the shaft and arrow. It seemed that an arrow whizzed past his ear, and the enemy commander fell off his horse and died. Sure enough, the son with the treasure arrow is brave and invincible. When the trumpet sounded, the son could no longer resist the heroic spirit of victory and completely abandoned his father's words. A strong desire drove him to shout and pull out his treasure arrow, trying to find out. Suddenly he was shocked. A broken arrow, there is a broken arrow in the quiver. I've been fighting with a broken arrow on my shoulder! My son broke out in a cold sweat, as if the house had lost its pillar in an instant and collapsed. The result is self-evident, and my son died tragically in the disorderly army. Sweeping away the misty smoke, my father picked up the broken arrow and spat heavily: "If you don't believe in your own will, you will never be a general."