What is vilen of Northland saying?

Aesthetic height. I came from the hot south to the distant northern border. The winding river has long and thick arms; Vilen in the northland has an incomparably broad chest; Those flying birds are hospitable hosts, and they look lovely when they blend into the clouds. The seasons change rapidly. The hot summer disappeared without a trace. Bright July, quiet and serious. Tieshi Highway is as soft as a bone because of its twists and turns. The Road on Yuan Ye is a meditation on life, and its formation, that is, the formation of life, is a symbol of making people happy and loving life perfect. Those who disappear in time have made a path of life for us. We will remember their footsteps, let them stay in our hearts forever, and let the spiritual path be barren. I love vilen in the north so much. It has a natural male talent. Vast expanse itself is a kind of aesthetic height. Escape from the city submerged by smog, where the air is as clean as a luxury. Magnificent green has been surging further than the horizon. The battlefield once covered with blood and tears was deeply buried. The hard and refreshing wind is endlessly inspiring the desire to grow up. After the constant intercourse with spring, it seems that vilen has never had a melancholy winter: barren hillsides, decadent flower shadows, wind and frost cut like swords, and sad fingers of trees covered with biting snow and ice. Vicissitudes are memories that need to be awakened. The clusters of Korean pine stand upright on the back of the slope, holding their heads high. The birch forest is self-confident and loose, shining with the light of temptation. Blue and red roofs jump among the trees. Bare village head, brown horse as always serene, occasionally raise a shiny black long tail. Clouds are floating between the blue sky and the green fields. The sun will be in front of it for a while, reflecting a concave-convex curve; After a while, hook Phnom Penh. And it, against the management of light and shade and color, is brewing heavy rain. Once it rains, it is a pillar that stands tall and moves on the vilen with great momentum. The place where it just left was immediately full of sunshine. Wildflowers are full of colorful flowers. I hope to entrust them to the seeds, return to Yuanye and accept all the invitations of the season. Before the arrival of spring, they will be filled with the brilliance that once resounded through the sky. A slope of pregnant corn, condensed in the dazzling sunshine, rumbled in the thunder at dusk, and fell into the emotional trap of summer on the upcoming night of temptation. The flowing bristlegrass shook off the delicate dew. Discard excess impurities and become a vigorous force on the earth. There will be gold-plated giant harvesters loaded in autumn. The sunset made the old people squint and count the long distance traveled by a pod, a corn cob and an ear of sorghum, as well as the harvest of their lives. Many years ago, they used a rope on their shoulders to crawl on the road in Yuan Ye. The world is particularly peaceful at this time. Xiao Ye is solemn, and the rainbow measures the poles of Yuanye. A big hand, stroking us, seemed to awaken the child's ignorance with words. I think I should give up the expression of words, curl up in the warmth of the palm, watch the scenery and chew the bitterness and fragrance of the years. The wind tugged at my clothes, and I stood aimlessly on the leaves, letting green enter my body and the fragrance of crops penetrate my mind. Space and time are infinitely expanded and extended. After 4.6 billion years of evolution, the earth has given mankind countless treasures. Quaternary. The last period of the Cenozoic era. Its younger age was 2.6 million years ago. At that time, primates completed the evolution from apes to humans, and the biological world evolved into a modern face. A loud noise, countless boulders, accompanied by gray-black smoke, rolled into the sky; Each crater erupts alternately, sometimes at rest, and sometimes at the same time, gorgeous fireworks bloom in the air. The earth is shaking, the whole sky is brightly lit, and magma is rushing around, inspiring an uncontrollable desire. At the moment when the flame splashed, I realized all the joys and sorrows of the beginning and end of my life. From the Oroqen Nuo Min River Volcano Group in the north of Daxing 'anling Mountains to the Wulanhada Volcano Group in Chayou Houqi in the south, there are more than 390 volcanoes with different shapes, forming a spectacular Quaternary volcanic eruption zone in eastern Inner Mongolia. Volcanic cones emerge in various ways. The eruption time ranged from more than two million years in prehistoric times to more than two hundred and eighty years ago in modern times, and it is the top resource in the world. It has preserved the most complete, concentrated, complete and typical volcanic geological landforms in the world. The latest volcanic magma filled the vast ancient sunken basins, and the lakes strung together the bright pearls on the Eurasian continental bridge. Humans can't penetrate the earth's crust, but the earth's crust itself is full of holes. Volcanoes are all over the world, and some conditions of gestation and eruption are accompanied by the whole orogeny; Some processes of gestation and eruption are accompanied by the collapse of the whole mountain; Some form a rolling lake of fire, and lava flows out from the edge of the lake of fire, forming terrible lava waterfalls, lava rivers and lava fountains. Fierce magma surged, burning forests, flooding cultivated land and burying the whole city. Volcano is a cruel beauty: flying upward is a kind of destruction, and extending downward is also a kind of destruction. Just like the poem of Yevnov who died young: I am not alive, but burning. However, the volcano on the northern Yuan Ye wrote another kind of poem and found another splendid life. Who can imagine that a volcano that has been silent for thousands of years will have such lush grass and lush trees? Lush leaves and grass are covered with black molten metal. Before the snow melts and the trees turn green, Daphne odora in Phnom Penh is in bud in early spring. On the original stone pond, the powder clouds are boundless and the fragrance is far away. The memory of fire-breathing has long since disappeared in the dream; The volcano's justification for its fanatical experience has already gone deep into the grass. Everything is sacred, stepping on dead leaves and moss and walking into the Woods deep in the valley. This is the hometown of Manchu, Oroqen, Daur and Ewenki. A season of affection has begun. Walking on the road softened by rotten leaves for many years. Fish scale pine, Chinese pine, fir pine, oak tree, colored tree, acacia tree, paulownia tree and hazel tree are all over the mountains and slopes. All the trees are tightly surrounded by bushes. In the dense bush, it is crowded with overlord whip, wild clove, dog tail flower, mountain peony, wild rose and broom. Through the dense forest, with strong fragrance of resin and strawberry, clothes get wet, giving people a cool, My Sweetie pleasure. Strawberry seeds covered the mound burned by wildfire. The berries and strawberries here are ripe, dark and sweet. The wind rustled, and cuckoo, sand-spotted chicken and unwilling cicada sang in unison. Walking in such a forest is like a fish swimming in a colorful and pleasant stream. This is the best time to meditate. You can't help but recall the distant forgotten childhood, and your mind is full of all kinds of sweetness and joy of childhood. On the branches overhead, there are wild larks, sand-spotted chickens, wrens and pheasants everywhere. They stood generously and coldly. Even if you disturb me, I just jump a little, lazy. Sometimes, iron finches and turtledoves will land close to you and fly, and the wind they set off will blow straight into your face. Long-tailed squirrels jump around on apparently extinct branches, ignoring uninvited guests in the Woods. If it is night, the roe deer running out of the Woods will stand in the middle of the road and turn a blind eye to the oncoming lights. At dusk, the damp coolness came from all directions. Birds quietly leave the treetops warmed by the sun, flap their wings and fly to the depths of the forest with attachment and silence. Fog is floating in the forest. Fog is translucent, which does not prevent looking up at the sky through the cracks in the trees. The sky divided by branches is particularly bright. My heart trembled slightly. Vilen in the north is a symbol of beauty and goodness. All the impetuousness was washed away, as if it were far away from the world, and the soul recovered its true colors. When it came into contact with vilen, all evil thoughts disappeared. The silence and mystery pervading Yuan Ye moistens the poetic soul and becomes the profound and quiet psychological background of art. There are tribal totems in the forest: the sun, the moon, men, women, birds, animals, twelve spider gods and twelve animals inhabiting twelve plants ... Shamans are based on animism, and the visible world is full of invisible forces, and all living and inanimate, organic and inorganic things have souls. There are no founders, no temples, no written classics, and no standardized etiquette. Shaman is a culture that transcends time and space, and does not need established classification logic. People worship ancestral gods and totems of clans or tribes, even all animals and plants, as well as inanimate natural objects and natural phenomena. The earliest religion in the world is almost as long as the history of modern human beings. Before the birth of civilization, people used stone tools to hunt. Before various foreign religions were introduced, shamans monopolized the ancient altars in the north. Worship fire, worship mountains, worship the sun, moon, stars, wind, rain and lightning. Ancestor gods are hung on the treetops, flanked by the sun, the moon, geese and cuckoos. The animal's head, tail, organs and limbs are hung on the leather rope between trees, and the animal's head faces the ancestor god. With the strength of our ancestors, we fight against ghosts and gods. Beat drums violently and ring waist bells crazily. "Wu Mai" (a ceremony to retrieve a baby's soul), sending souls, praying for prey, begging for rain and stopping it, spells and spells, divination and jumping. God drum and waist bell are the carriers of shaman language. The grand and noisy drums and bells are all about shaman music. Unpredictable, simple and rude wild voice, full of thrilling power. Shaman music is not an "art" outside life, it is life itself, and it is the language of communication with God. Shaman is a "knower", who follows the shaman's journey to gain strength and knowledge from another reality, and then returns to the original world to help himself or others with his own strength and knowledge. From man to god, from god to man. Nature is the source of spirituality and redemption, giving people the ability to change the status quo. Shaman believes that everything is animistic, related and sacred. Hunting tribes have moved into new houses, and the ancient spiritual practice has not disappeared. Continuing the theme of the transformation and growth of the earth's spirituality and individual consciousness, the mysterious shaman still haunts modern life. Shaman only wants to be friends with nature, and does not pursue the other side of the world. Shaman's outlook on life is based on human's desire for self-realization. That is to find your dreams and discover your inner myths. Shaman's power is not power, but energy, which is the overall vitality of human beings and nature. In the alienation between man and nature caused by anthropocentrism fanaticism and even the ecological crisis, shaman emphasizes the ability of nature and individuals, so that everyone can experience the integration with everything and the sacredness of everything, return to the embrace of mother earth and return to life itself. Shaman experienced the deep and primitive demand for trance, which is the meaning of human existence! The time of watching the highland of the soul goes by unconsciously, and the years pass by like water, and the mountains and rivers remain the same. What kind of place is Yuan Ye in the north? Just fresh, old and rich? Or just far away? There are two kinds of voices in "Yuanye": one is cheerful, singing about the evolution of the world and full of gratitude for life. The survival and reproduction of human beings, the rise and fall of dynasties, globalization and urbanization: rime and ice sculptures, ancient temples and tourist islands, ski resorts and resorts, volcanic hot springs and forest baths, Oktoberfest and concerts, Russian folk dances and duets on farms, ginseng, velvet antler and pork-killing dishes, sausages, Leba and Supo soup ... are a milestone of serious meditation and more meaningful to life. Yuan Ye, far away from the bustling center, dances on the nerve endings of the century. A slightly sad beat reveals ease and elegance. The soul in Yuan Ye only longs for flying. Poets are named after grasslands, loneliness, migratory birds, rivers and waves. After drinking the darkness all night, the pain and twists and turns of a river, like the taste of a mother, twisted into salt and went straight to the poet's heart, becoming profound. Rise or sink, and go round and round. The art from Qu Yuan is noble, at least not lost here. The shore is overgrown with reeds, and the slender reed leaves cut through the deep blue of the sky. The crescent moon is a silver knife that has just been drawn. The river is the poet's black beauty, sleeping quietly in the arms of poetry. Love and persistence are related to mountains and rivers. Spiritual seekers set foot on the free and fresh land that philosophers yearn for, and watch the spiritual highland of the North on the night of the Yuan Dynasty: they either pack their bags quietly, avoid the noise of the city, squat on the stone mill in the courtyard of their ancestral home, breathe the firewood and smoke of their neighbors again, and look at the huge buildings and bustling crowds in the distance, where various desires expand into a powerful turbid stream, impacting all doors, windows and every heart. However, their whole hearts sank into the thick historical fog of the night when their parents and grandparents lived, lost the heavy mission of writing the secret history of the nation, and crossed a deep and long time tunnel that seemed to have no end. The complicated world and the complicated literary world seem out of reach. Pride and frustration, passion and decadence, old and new flags, red face and white face, all seem to belong to the story of another world yesterday, as silent as fossils. In addition to their thoughts, they completely closed themselves up, led the characters through the wind, frost, rain and snow of the century, and let them enter the final destination with the joy of their own life and the sadness of their death. They either resent all kinds of meanness under the glamorous appearance of modern civilization, insist on the absolute status of civilians in a kind of tension of competing for fame and gain and flaunting themselves with powerful people, and focus on describing the survival dilemma, the rise and fall of honor and disgrace, and the lonely history and painful history deeply rooted in their hearts. These tough guys are often not only secular winners, but even almost losers. However, they are honest, strong, colorful and have stories; Dare to fight, speak loudly, swear more, and beat around the bush. In the stormy social transformation, they struggle with fate, hope, pursuit, loss, resistance, laughter, wailing, distortion and sublimation. The world is so messy, muddy, poor and rough, and it is so powerful and full of vitality. This is a stage to publicize vitality. They are flesh and blood and support themselves. A sound life and personality make them naturally get rid of decadence and depravity, never fall into the abyss of human nature deterioration, achieve themselves independently in their own essence, keep a distance from fashion, and refuse to get involved in sturm und drang's game of the times. As the embodiment of the grassroots will that never gives in to the survival dilemma, they stand in the rolling world of mortals that are grand, strange, materialistic and lost in faith. They either go with the flow with unique calmness and calmness without hesitation. The villages on the shore are immersed in the natural river form, and the once amorous feelings are stirring, dragging the story of extinction. Life swims in the sound of water. The impatient child jumped into the river naked before the dog days. The woman on the shore, her arms are like jelly and her neck is like magnolia. The old man sat on the porch listening to the rain, cats and dogs barking. The frogs in an alley are floating and sinking, and the songs of unknown birds are far away and transparent ... They have gone through countless villages in this way, and they have had countless helplessness and confusion: desire closes the day, and people are tempted and modernized under the pressure of the principle of survival. A village with tortuous meridians can only rely on memory? They went on to write about the village, the right and wrong of the people and the land, their carnival of indifference to the land, their inability to distinguish the muddy facts in front of things, and their overwhelming publicity; Write about their persistence and honesty in faith; Write a whip that is whipped before the dawn when the moon is about to recede. Write about a woman who misses her thick eyebrows like ink, growling out her expectation of lofty mountains and rivers, and disdaining to love a white-faced scholar. Love to the old, still pulling a wrinkled neck, looking up at the torn whip. Simple and broad literature grows in the soil, water and air of northern Yuan Ye, where all beings gather and express their true feelings. An era with "industrialization" as the cultural policy orientation: an era that hopes to sing and dance to calm social nerves; An era of judging writers by "rich list"; An era that can be popular all over the world without learning or even ghostwriting plagiarism; An era in which even reading is utilitarian; An era in which even Chinese teaching is marginalized has not affected their stubborn watch at all. The literature in Yuan Ye in the northland is rigid, as atmospheric as Yuan Ye in the northland, which always brings us shocks again and again. On the morning I left Yuan Ye, I wandered by the river. The misty light rises slowly from the horizon, gradually igniting the soft clouds and throwing them into the lavender river. The river shrouded in lilac morning light flows in silence with wordless joy. The great river pursues the horizon with a long line stretching for thousands of miles, bearing the heroism of the vast northern country and the purity of summer. The horizon constantly reveals a fascinating and mysterious world shining in the gray-blue distance. Casual and chic, the wind sweeps across the earth silently, like a string whispering. In response to the beat of the wind, the river is blocked and summoned by invisible souls. Wind is the companion of river freedom. This silence makes me feel that there is someone like me somewhere, listening attentively to some sounds that I can't hear. He held his breath and opened his eyes wide. There is something that excites him, and he will soon open his mind to what is huge, boundless and invisible to me. He listened to the sound of dawn in July and breathed the breath of the disappearing summer night. Silence made him feel heavy. You shouldn't be silent this morning, you should sing this morning! This impulse comes not only from singing, but also from something deep in my heart, something that can arouse the same passion of others and let people reveal their most secret hearts. That man was none other than myself. I like to see vilen on such a morning. A person, facing a quiet shining water and a quiet shining green, is listening to an imaginary beautiful voice telling a gentle story. Where the water is stagnant, everything is as bright as the sky in quiet meditation. When the morning glow burns, the highest mountain in the distance first emits golden light, and an unknown bird hangs in the air like a dot, trembling like a heart. A drizzle of fragrant and warm pollen came from nowhere and fell quietly. With this fragrance, you can smell the sudden blooming of countless flowers. Everything is extremely real, just like a friend accompanying me. I imagine myself changed, like a butterfly taking off its ugly clothes, crossing vilen lightly, blowing ripples of silk and satin for the long river and playing the harp for all those who love each other. Don't bother to invent any myths. Nothing is more solemn and sacred than Northern Yuan Ye, which touches people's heartstrings with warmth, strength, silence and happiness. (Chen is a representative writer in the new period and a member of the presidium of the Chinese Writers Association)