An essay recording life.

How does prose record life? Next, I compiled an essay for you to record your life. Welcome to read!

The first essay recording life

My body supports the crutch, but when I look at it, a kind of sadness comes to my mind. The picture of the burning flame while the iron is hot comes into my eyes, and the jingle of iron echoes in my ears. ...

There is a wing in the famous alley in the village. The roof of the wing is full of black smoke all the year round, which is the blacksmith's stove. The tinkling sound of the blacksmith's furnace broke the silence of the village and hutong. It is the rhythmic rhythm of the hammer hitting the iron, which is full of elasticity and texture, attracting childhood friends to watch it closely. Because I live near Hutongkou, when I was a child, I loved to play by the blacksmith's stove, which was also a lively place in the village, watching the raging fire burning; Listen to the rhythmic sound of hammering iron, the sound of bellows when it is urgent and slow; Feel the tension of sparks and while the iron is hot; Enjoy the joy of quenching iron tools ... after a long time, I stayed at the blacksmith's roadside for a long time and gradually became familiar with blacksmiths.

There are two apprentices who strike while the iron is hot, and one apprentice who plays the bellows. The old master is short and fat, especially steady, and often shows a thoughtful look while the iron is hot. Later, he became a wise man in the village. He controls the small hammer when he strikes the iron. There is also a sledgehammer, which is mentioned at the beginning of this article. This man is tall and strong. The fire reflected his dark red face, and his bare upper body showed strong muscles. He doesn't talk much, but his words can be as powerful and arrogant as when he is working while the iron is hot. There is also an apprentice, who is short and ugly and specializes in playing bellows, because I was only impressed by the two masters who worked while the iron was hot, and I didn't pay much attention to him, leaving only a vague image, just like "ignoring" in the sketch, and I forgot who he was.

I like to go to the blacksmith's furnace and watch the masters strike the iron. In the bustling blacksmith's shop, I saw the blazing fire shining on the blacksmith's face, pushing the breeze urgently and slowly, blinking when I lit the fire, and knocking on the hammer one by one, the radian was high and low. Slowly, I also realized some truth while the iron is hot. At first, I saw how powerful the sledgehammer was. It must be the master. Later, I slowly observed some doorways, only to know that the master took a small hammer. With a slight finger of the small hammer, the big hammer will fall heavily, and it is the apprentice who swings the big hammer. I can vividly see the scene of striking the iron: I saw the old master holding a long iron tongs in his left hand and turning the burning iron from time to time, showing a confident and calm look. Under his constant turning, the black iron turned into red iron, and the hard iron became very soft and seemed to melt. In fact, he is mastering the temperature of the iron.

Suddenly, the iron tongs in the master's hand tightly clamped the red iron block, quickly took it out of the fire and put it on the anvil. At this time, I also tightened my nerves, and I saw the apprentice with a sledgehammer poised. I saw that the master quickly picked up a small hammer. Like a conductor, the small hammer struck where it needed to be struck. The strong apprentice then picked up a big hammer and landed right where the small hammer struck. At this time, the master's hammer and the apprentice's hammer danced up and down, hammering up and down, one high and one low, one light and one heavy, one after another, and Mars was in chaos. The sledgehammer and the sledgehammer threw beautiful curves and knocked out the harmonious melody of "jingle". Seeing the red iron slowly turning black, the rhythm of hitting the ball slowly decreased. The old master picked up the gradually formed iron block with iron tongs and put it back into the furnace to add fire. At this time, the apprentice who pulled the bellows increased his strength, and the bellows soon "breathed". After several rounds, the iron was hammered into a certain shape. I saw the old master put it in the pool in the corner with iron tongs, and suddenly there was a sound of "zi zi", and puffs of blisters and smoke emerged.

Later, the blacksmith's stove was moved to the village mill. Because my mother works as an accountant in the factory, I still go there often. I still remember a toy called "steel plate" knocked by the blacksmith for me. I polished it in the sand and held it in my hand. It was heavy and shiny and once envied by my friends. Every time I think of the blacksmith's furnace, I naturally think of the steel plate carefully built by the blacksmith for me. This is the blacksmith's concern and love for a child, so gratitude is surging.

The blacksmith knocked out a work with his own hands and created a fruit of labor. They knock out agricultural production tools for the village, create wealth, make hoes, hoes, hoes, hoes and hoes for the rural people, and serve the prosperity of agricultural production and rural life.

The blacksmith's furnace is the product of the times. Now, the blacksmith's furnace has long since disappeared, and the era of blacksmith's furnace has long since passed, but the shadow of blacksmith's furnace has been lingering in my mind, and I will never forget that simple and kind blacksmith master. Because, all this stems from my love for blacksmith's furnace.

Essay recording life part ii

The summer of 20 16 is hot, sultry and extremely hot.

The dog days of 20 16 lasted for 40 days, from July 7 to August 25. Therefore, heat and long-term heat can be imagined.

But I am not hot, but what makes me feel cold this summer! Not cool, not cool, not cold, but bleak, sad and desolate.

When I was free to study, I went to the city library to borrow books one day. I saw a book with a red cover on the shelf, and its title was Zhang Ailing's Biography. There is a head next to the title, black, short hair, drooping head, eyes slightly closed and mouth pursed. Talented women of the Republic of China! Above the title, slightly smaller than the title font, a few lines of white characters came into view, reaching the bottom of my heart. The last two lines, Zhang Ailing, were registered in the 1940s: "If you are as low as dust, you will bloom".

After reading Zhang Ailing's novels and TV series adapted from the original works, I was most impressed by Love in a Fallen City. I read her biography today and got to know her better.

The key is to like Zhang Ailing more!

When reading Zhang Ailing: "Life and death are in harmony, chatting with each other;" Holding your hand and growing old with your son "is a sad poem, but how positive her attitude towards life is." "I don't like heroes. I like solemn and stirring, and I prefer desolation. "

My bosom friend Zhang Ailing! Your confidant is you!

I am such a person, I am such a person-I like solemn and stirring, I prefer desolation. I'm not the only one who feels this way. Zhang Ailing, you said this as early as 1944, which made me warm, cordial, excited and immersed for a long time, and made me recite it countless times. I kept repeating in my mind: Zhang Ailing, I like it, too. I think you can feel my feelings and hear my confession. Thank you very much for inventing the word "crossing" by modern people, so that I can travel to the Republic of China, have tea with you face to face and taste what is tragic and desolate with you face to face. I can feel that we are all immersed in it. We don't need words, we don't need to tell, we just need to smile and our hearts are connected.

I have been to Qinghai once, Xinjiang twice, Tibet four times and Inner Mongolia five times, and I have enjoyed the vast sea view many times. For traveling, I have always had three big dreams: to see the sea, the grassland and the desert. For these three dreams, most people understand and agree with the first two, but they are confused about seeing the desert. What is there to see in the desert? There is no water, no grass, no trees, no animals except camels, yellow sand everywhere, difficult to walk, inaccessible and beautiful scenery. I long for these and love the desert. I often tell my friends that I like to see deserts and Gobi. Being in the desert Gobi, I feel that my whole body cells have been mobilized, and my eyes are wide open. I don't even want to blink, for fear of missing a look and not seeing clearly. I don't want to talk, I don't want to cheer, I just feel quietly, I just want to immerse myself in the desert and Gobi, let the desert and Gobi cover my body and blend with them, so that my cells can become sand in the desert and stones in the Gobi, and every cell can quietly enjoy the joy brought by desolation.

In August, 20 14, my wife and I traveled to Tibet. Before the reconstruction of the 3 18 national highway was completed, we went from Ganzi, Sichuan to Linzhi, Tibet, in order to enjoy more Tibetan scenery along the way, because this was my fourth time. To be honest, except for the surprise and excitement brought by the No.72 bend in Nujiang River, the mountains, snow-capped mountains, lakes and glaciers along the way didn't make me too excited. But as soon as I passed through Lhasa, Naqu Prairie, Hoh Xil and Golmud, I had fantasies and ripples in my heart, because I had to pass through the famous Qaidam Basin.

What attracts me most in Qaidam basin is not the resources buried deep underground, because I have no ability to explore and develop resources. What attracts me most in Qaidam Basin is desert! Even if I pass by, I am satisfied.

Obviously, I will definitely go to see the desert again!

I went to Xinjiang seven or eight years ago, and my destination was the famous Kanas. I said to my friend, go to Kanas, Xinjiang, where the lake is more beautiful than Jiuzhaigou. The beauty lies in its colorful colors, which always make it hard to see clearly and see through.

However, the biggest gain of this trip is not in Kanas, nor in Harmony Village, a well-known photography community, but on the way to see Rainbow Beach by car from Harmony Village.

Arriving in a small county in Brzin, it was a whole day's drive from morning to evening, which gave me a whole day's enjoyment. The Gobi along the way is magnificent, magnificent and boundless, crossing one sky after another, desolate, desolate and magnanimous.

I like that desolation, I like that momentum, I like that generosity.

We don't need trees, forests, grasslands or lakes. On the Gobi desert, all we need is stones, large and small.

I often recall that kind of momentum, that kind of generosity, that kind of desolation, because these elements will make people's hearts as broad as Gobi and as open as Gobi.

Oh, it should be desolation that makes my character and my aura.

I love desolation!

Zhang Ailing hasn't been to those places where I have been. The desolation she likes, I think, should be the feeling brought by life, the hardship of life, the warmth and coldness of life and the coldness of the world, not the desolation I felt in Xinjiang. The desolation I feel in Xinjiang is the geomorphological feature of nature itself, and it is the feeling brought by geological movement, wind, rain, lightning and the sun and the moon. But along the way, my definition is desolation. After many years, my definition is still desolation. Surprisingly, this summer I finally found a bosom friend who likes desolation as much as I do.

Thank you, Zhang Ailing.

Since I like desolation so much, I want to tell you another desolation, and that is the desolation of Tibet. Of course, the desolation of Tibet has many vicissitudes.

When my daughter graduated from primary school in July, 20001year, my friend arranged for two families to take their children to Tibet for the first time. The first time I went to Tibet, my memories were lack of oxygen, dizziness, headache, weakness of limbs and poor sleep. I visited the regular scenic spots with the tour group, mainly including Namco, Yangzhuoyong Lake, Potala Palace, Jokhang Temple and Bajiao Street. This lake gives me the feeling of grandeur. Of course, the blue of the lake is beyond my imagination. The temple gives me the feeling that it is heavy oil, heavy smoke and heavy smell, and it is not so clean and comfortable. The Potala Palace gives me the feeling of magic, mystery, sacredness, solemnity and heaviness. Its sense of history, culture, region and nationality should have a little vicissitudes.

Today, I slowly chewed those mixed flavors, and the taste became more and more delicious. Oh, it turned out to be more of a sense of vicissitudes.

The vicissitudes in my heart bear rich cultural connotations. The cultural connotation of Potala Palace is too rich. The destination that Tibetans yearn for is the love story of Princess Wencheng and Songzan Gambu. The 6th Lama Cangyang Gyatso slipped out of a side door late at night and went to a pub in Bajiao Street to meet his beloved girl. Cang Yang Jia CuO wears beautiful love poems written in the mysterious palace. All this is far away from today and close at hand, slowly settling into a vicissitudes in my heart.

The vicissitudes of life precipitated in my heart were my trip to Ali, Tibet in June of 20 1 1. Ali's culture is long and heavy. The legend of Qi Feng, the main peak of the Gangdise Mountains, is the Dojo of Sakyamuni. Many Buddhists have been turning mountains for many years, so it is more sacred and "unattainable" than Mount Everest. Standing in front of it, you will feel the power of faith, and faith is like a mountain! In one breath, I climbed to the top of the famous Zadatulin, the site of Guge Dynasty, with a height of more than 300 meters, without the feeling that other mountains are short in the sky. Not at all. Strolling through the palaces of the seventh century, the wisdom of the ancients, the cruelty of war, the tragic disappearance of dynasties and the vicissitudes of history are within reach.

This kind of vicissitudes can run through every detail of historical stories and every layout of historical environment.

This kind of vicissitudes can be hot, cold and hot.

This kind of vicissitudes can be noisy, warm or calm.

This kind of vicissitudes can be shelved, carried, hidden and expressed.

This kind of vicissitudes can be beautiful picture books, beautiful words and delicious snacks.

Vicissitudes are ripples in my heart, which are magnificent in my heart.

So I am a strong and persistent person, and I like vicissitudes of life.

On August 20 10, my wife and I met, and a couple and four people went to my dream place, Everest base camp. I rented an off-road vehicle and hired a driver to start from Lhasa. I feel surprised all the way, tragic all the way, and desolate all the way. There are not many cultural things, mostly mountains and blue sky along the way, occasionally lakes and cattle and sheep. Especially the road from Dingri County to Everest Base Camp, the so-called washboard road, is dusty and has dozens of bends. From the foot of the mountain to the top of the mountain, I don't feel bumpy or dizzy. I just opened my eyes to the huge rocks and cliffs that rose from the bottom of the sea hundreds of millions of years ago, for fear of finding a green bud, but I didn't find it.

No discovery is the greatest happiness, the greatest happiness.

Any green color there is redundant, which destroys harmony and aura. What is sad in my heart is not green!

I stood at the top of the mountain, incredibly holding my breath, breathing the unparalleled tragic and desolate, immersed in it, feeling unable to extricate myself, as if I had become a stone, standing with them and becoming a part of tragic and desolate.

Many years have passed, and those trips to Tibet have left a deep imprint on my heart. I often recall, aftertaste, as if to hold that tragic and desolate in my hand, for fear of losing it.

In fact, it won't run away, because I cherish those huge rocks and cliffs, those mountains and grasslands, those sacred mountains and lakes, and those vast soil forests. I am close to that tragic and desolate heart, and I am closely connected with that vicissitudes.

So I am a strong and persistent person who likes desolation.

Fortunately, I'm not the only one who likes desolation so much!

The third essay recording life

On the morning of the Mid-Autumn Festival, I went to Xifeng Tuanyuan Mountain. At the foot of the mountain, the roar of the mountaineers attracted me to speed up the climb.

When someone climbs a mountain, someone goes down. As the saying goes, "Mo Daojun leaves early, and there are many early pedestrians". There are old people, young people like me, and children going downhill. We nodded and smiled at each other. The stone steps are sometimes straight and sometimes winding. As long as you keep climbing for three to five minutes, your breathing will be accelerated and sweat will flow out along your body. Perhaps the green on the mountain distracts your attention, or the oxygen released from the mountain is inhaled into your lungs, so your climbing pace does not feel heavy and light. At this time, if you climb the mountain alone, you won't have any other thoughts, just want to climb to the top of the mountain and shout at the top of your lungs-prove to Dashan that you are here. The plants on Tuanyuan Mountain are lush, so you don't want to disturb their inherent silence. There are green ferns everywhere. When the morning breeze blows, they smile at the climbers in a friendly way. It is more imaginative for you to reach out and touch those verdant ferns. Sweat dripping on the stone road, dripping on my glasses frame, rolling on the strings of the lens, made me feel novel, and reached out and wiped my sweaty hair. Halfway up the hill, I also joined the roaring team. Nobody cares about your growling tone or low voice. You just need to have your share of happiness.

I like singing, and I just started singing out of tune. Colleagues even joked that I graduated from Huangjia Conservatory of Music. I climb mountains and sing loudly. Mountains and trees are my listeners, and occasionally birds on the mountains will respond to me. Climbing to the top of the mountain, the morning breeze is blowing, full of comfort. You overlook Xifeng county, as gentle and quiet as a small jasper; From a distance, a thin silk scarf spans the mountains from south to north, just like walking in a fairyland. On the top of the mountain, many people are exercising, some are practicing martial arts, some are practicing deep breathing, and some are choosing wild vegetables ... More interestingly, an old man's shoulder radio is playing Andy Lau's pop songs. I started talking to the old man. The old man is very satisfied with his present life, and the children are doing their own things and don't let them worry. The sun was shining warmly, and fog rose over the county seat. At this time, the county became hazy. After bidding farewell to the old man, I went down the mountain first. The climbers were still in an endless stream, and some even took a nap in the pavilion. In the crowd going up the mountain, a little girl accompanied the old man (grandmother or grandmother) and said, "I hope this road is straight!" " "The old man said," the mountain road is straight and curved, and the valley bottom is very high. "I look back at the climbers of all ages, and the national fitness is deeply rooted in the hearts of the people. The steps down the mountain are always faster. On the rest square at the foot of the mountain, a group of people are dancing a new and colorful Guizhou dance. Although not in tune, everyone guides each other. Seven or eight old people practiced the pace of Fan Taiji alone; On another open space under the steps of the square, a group of people are dancing fast-paced aerobics; Three or five boys are playing badminton by the court. A vibrant scene, a harmonious picture, let me feel the new atmosphere of strengthening the country and enriching the people