When I wrote this article, I felt a strange softness in my heart, which is a feeling that I rarely feel after reading a book.

I borrowed books from the library yesterday afternoon, but I happened to see the book "You Wei" by Wang Han. I felt mysterious and went back to my dormitory without hesitation. After opening it, I never wanted to close it again.

this is a warm man.

This sentence keeps popping up in my head during the reading.

The love and affection from some small objects, as well as the awe of nature and the words themselves, make this book have an indescribable weight and texture. In fact, the book has been read out of date by many students, but I am holding it carefully because of its content, for fear of breaking it.

In the preface, he said: When I grow up, I have come into contact with more good things, and I just compare them. The aesthetic feeling is quite primitive and intuitive, and I can never give up.

Trees, bugs, calligraphy and painting, forest of steles ... all the common things have produced strange light in Wang Han's works. His primitive beauty makes me feel very tacky.

He said that he would use "them" to describe the things he loved. In his eyes, everything in nature has always been alive.

awe.

At the end of the preface, he ended with a poem "Gift" by Polish poet milosz:

Such a happy day.

the fog cleared early in the morning, and I was working in the garden.

the hummingbird stops on the honeysuckle flower.

there is nothing in this world that I want to possess.

I know no one deserves my envy.

I have forgotten any misfortune I have suffered.

it doesn't embarrass me to think that I am the same person now.

there is no pain on me.

straightening up, I can see the blue sea and sails.

I copied this poem neatly in my notebook with respect for Mu.

"There is nothing in this world that I want to possess. I know that no one deserves my envy. " Suddenly, I feel how accurate it is to describe my psychological feelings towards Mr. Wang Han and after reading his book.

When a person doesn't want to take possession of anything, he must be the happiest. When he wants to take possession of everything with desire, the thing itself has no value for him, and he can no longer feel the pleasure of constantly pursuing it, because it belongs to him and has no connection with everything in nature, including others. In fact, the life of the thing itself has come to an end, and there will be no new quality.

When Mr. Wang Han described Jinggang and Weihe River, as well as Piao Yunzi, a piano maker, Lao Li, a tofu maker, Yu Dad, a carpenter, and his beloved calligraphy and folding fan, I really felt his happiness. It was not possession, but the integration of "mountains and rivers looking for bosom friends" and heart-to-heart communication. Those things had touched life at the moment of contact with him. But as Su Dongpo said: "The scenery of the mountains and rivers is romantic, and the impermanence is the master, and the leisure is the constant master."

I have no resistance to delicious food, and neither does Mr. Wang Han, so his first article about Jinggang Xianggan hit my heart and wandered around.

Buddhists say that the six roots refer to the body and mind of the eyes, ears, nose and tongue, while the corresponding ones are the six realms, the touch of color, sound, fragrance and touch.

we are probably all six unclean people. Life is so simple that food can prompt it to be placed.

I am full of admiration for Mr. Wang Han and joy for the Lao Li family. It seems that the word "full of joy" is a bit abrupt. In fact, I just want to express my joy to craftsmen like Lao Li's family who are in the bustling city but stick to their hearts.

Teacher Mu Xin said: In the past, the sun changed slowly | Cars, horses, and mail were all slow | Only one person can be loved in a lifetime |

Soak beans; Grinding and pulping; Point the brine on the bean curd and block it; Cutting and pressing; Marinating; White blank, soaked in salt water, boiled dried bean curd.

When Lao Li was doing these things, I thought of this poem by Teacher Mu Xin. In fact, Lao Li is a poem. He made every moment very clear, very slowly and meticulously. In this small workshop, he quietly put all his life busy.

I never thought that someone was living such a carefree life in a corner of this world, full of envy and admiration, admiring their "firm steps and inner peace" and their courage to "be out of place" with this world.

stir up the livelihood of the world and the conscience of heaven and earth at the same time.

something hits the heart, the star on time.

It's as if I walked in under the carved stone archway with Mr. Wang Han and walked past the nearby vegetable garden. Pale yellow pumpkin flowers was drinking dew, and the loofah vine was covered with ladybugs. Then I walked along the alley for 2 meters, and a long, dark hut appeared in front of me. There he was, making a wooden scale there.

he is father Lu.

when it is dark, he will light a lamp for himself, and when he is dim, he will lift the thin scale, with one end pressing the sound of the river port and the other pressing the sound of the small town eating.

I imagine such a picture, full of warmth and magic.

dad Lu said: a craftsman can't make money, but he can still live clearly. Sixty years is like a day.

as long as you live up to your conscience, as long as you are still alive.

We are all too busy to move forward in a hurry, and we don't know how many small measures we forgot along the way. We don't remember that classmates and friends silently left messages on qq to pay attention to adding or subtracting clothes. We don't remember the temperature of the water handed to us by the hotel waiter, and we don't remember the care and love that mom and dad are used to. We forget the weight that those little things should have in our lives. We just go forward and pass by without seeing each other's warm eyes.

I really hope everyone has a scale for measuring the minimum temperature in addition to those so-called important things.

I don't know what I'm writing. Teacher Wang Han likes so many things, such as bows and arrows, ink, oiled paper umbrellas, guqin ... I just think warmth is good.

let's get back to the topic.

"Do you want to be a monk with wine and meat?"

At the end of the book, an interview with City Pictorial was attached, and the host asked.

Teacher Wang Han said that he thinks he is a fireworks fairy, but this word is the most appropriate. God has a duty and is worshipped by people. Fairy is alone and free and elegant. The word "fireworks" brings it into the secular embrace, and has the closest connection with nature, highlighting his own characteristics, or as a human being.

Fireworks and immortals, these two kinds of life are not contrary in the religious sense. Everyone has two places at once. At this moment, there must be another you in another place, either eating or sleeping, but science can't explain it.

What I think at the moment belongs to Mr. Wang Han, and it will eventually belong to me: I hope to eat all the fireworks and keep my face the same. Taste cold and warm, and your heart is not cold. In the mud, I am still the same. Qian Fan, still a teenager.

the vulgarity of the body and the purity of the soul can actually be combined into one.