Appreciation of Pang's Prose On the Mountain

Go to the mountains, it must be winter. Don't take a bus to the mountains.

Two must be your persistence and your ideal. So, although you escaped from Rouhong and went to the mountains many times, sometimes it is not winter, and sometimes you will take a car, which is not what you want to go hiking.

Speaking of which, you are no stranger to mountains. The village where you were born is surrounded by mountains. Although the village stretches on a large gentle slope, although your home is not far from the river, you are a mountaineer. You used to run barefoot in the fields, roll on the grass with friends, and go to the old forest behind the village to collect firewood and pick wild fruits. So, you think mountains are so much. Later, you went to study outside the mountain, which opened your eyes and deepened your knowledge. I hate Shan Ye, Shan Ye rustic and backward mountain environment, and I want to jump out and become a city dweller in leather shoes. When people reach middle age, they will be robbed, and you, a city dweller, are beginning to miss mountains again.

It's deep winter, and you are in the mountains.

You stand at the foot of the mountain and look up, but you feel that Cui Wei is pulled out sharply and the air is empty. Your looking up is a kind of worship, but the mountain is indifferent. You stand at its feet, just like a little ant standing at your feet looking at you. You may not see the ants, and the mountains may not notice you. What this mountain sees is the disappearance of the Yun Qi Cloud, the rising of the sun and the setting of the moon, the change of dynasties and the rise and fall of history. However, this does not affect your mood, just as you do not affect the mood of ants. Ants will still climb your body, and you will still climb the mountain.

According to ordinary people, the mountains in winter are not worth seeing. The mountains are cold and thin, desolate and depressed everywhere, but you are indifferent and full of interest. The road is rugged and winding. On the roadside, there are no big trees, but thorns, shrubs and weeds. You like them better. I like the smoothness and variety of the path. I like the thin, hard and sharp thorns stabbing the cold in all directions. I also like the weeds gathering together to make the yellow leaves jingle when the wind plays. The mountain opposite is still the mountain. Face the mountain where you climbed the rocky river. Is the ratio high? Still tough? Nobody will obey anyone. A gust of wind passed, and the trees on both sides of the mountain were shaking, as if the beards of the mountain were angry and demonstrating to each other. You can't help but wonder how old these mountains are, and you still like to play this game, just like the tricks you played with your companions when you were a child. You are really a group of old urchins.

The mountains were silent. It seems that you are the only one walking between heaven and earth. In fact, you know, you are not alone, you are walking along the road, along the trees and weeds on the roadside. You have no idea how long the road is. All you know is that if you follow the road, you can walk into the hidden life in the mountains. You have no idea how old this road is. You only know that the road has been going since the first one took root in the mountainous area. Walking on the road, I walked out of the smoke, out of the pink green, out of the crowing of chickens and barking of dogs, and out of a thick and deep history book. On this road, how many people's footprints are heavy and overlapping, how many people's dreams are ups and downs, and how many people are sad, happy and uneasy. So, follow the road, you are not alone.

It's been a long walk, and we haven't reached the mountainside yet. You stop to catch your breath and look up. On the high ridge, there are big black stones. These stones lie deep and mysterious in the weeds. The wind blows, the grass moves, and the stone does not move, all of which fall into eternal meditation. In the gap between stones, fragments fell into the house. From a distance, they seem to have been accidentally hung on a steep slope. You can't help but wonder, if there is a strong wind, will those lands be blown away? Where there is land, there are people. Where is the house? You searched the ground for a long time and found nothing. When you were ready to give up, a cock crow let the cat out of the bag. Look inside, boy, a tile-roofed house is sitting on the top of the mountain watching the clouds! In that place, the pine and cypress were too high, so I managed to climb a few trees and stand sparsely. How did the house climb up?

Looking at the quiet house, a few hours of memory broke out and came to life. Boarding system is implemented in junior high school. Many students in your class come from cold mountainous areas. They enter school late, which is obviously higher than that of children in low mountainous areas. Although there are differences in height and age, they get to know each other quickly. In their banter with you, you know that some old people in that place have never been to the town once in their lives, get up when they smell the chicken, and go home after sunset. What impressed you most was that a classmate who had a green hole above his lips said that where his home was located, the basin was accidentally thrown out and rolled like a wheel, and he could not reach the foot of the mountain in an hour. Both the speaker and the listener laughed at that time. Think of it as a joke. It was not until one day that the father of the classmate who broke the basin came to school to look for him that you had some doubts. The father, carrying nearly 200 kilograms of charcoal, drove the mountain road to the town for more than four hours. When he stood in your dormitory with hairy hair, he took out a handful of chestnuts from his pocket and gave it to you, which really surprised you. At that time, you were having lunch This classmate wants to give him half of the meal. Father waved his hand, opened his handkerchief, took out some steamed red ferns and wolfed them down, glancing at the door from time to time. A large canvas backpack with charcoal is leaning heavily on the slope, waiting for him. Later, I heard from that classmate that his father went home after selling charcoal and touched the road for more than an hour. Pointing to the white pull-back shoes on his feet, he said, My father bought them with the money from selling charcoal. From the house in front of you to the past, you suddenly feel that those shoes may be the whitest pair in the world.

Looking at the quiet house, you think of the summer before last. The unit organizes you to go to the countryside to apply for a certificate. After driving for several hours and turning numerous turns, I finally came to a small town hidden in the depths of the mountains. Township * * * resident in the street, your eyes haven't completely raised, you see the head. Not many people came, and it was soon done. Just about to leave, the civil affairs cadre told me to wait and said that someone was coming up. A few minutes later, a limping middle-aged man helped a white-haired old woman into the house. I walked in a hurry, panting. According to the civil affairs cadres, this is a mother and son. There are only two people in the family. My son has a bad leg, so my mother can't see clearly. She lives at the top of the mountain, and the road is impassable and far, so she came late. When you pay attention, you find that they are all dressed neatly and very energetic. You can't see the kind of depression and laxity that disability brings to your family. The old man is obviously disabled, and the information will be ready soon. The old man stared at you with a pair of gray eyes, smiled with a flat mouth, thanked you again and again, and said that you had run a long way. Her stocky red-faced son poured his mother a cup of tea, sat quietly on one side and looked at his mother and you for a while with his soft eyes. After the mother and son left, the civil affairs cadres lamented that this family was not simple, let alone lacking labor. There are dozens of sheep in the pen. The son is very filial. Although his legs are not good, he serves his mother well and her eyesight is not good. He also fumbled about doing housework. Paused, civil affairs cadres and shook his head slightly, and said, so difficult, don't find * * *, we go to help his family, the son said, what help, I can do anything, as good as others. Your heart is beating. You think of the red-faced man and the small town surrounded by mountains.

Looking at the quiet house, what happened last night came out. Near the end of the year, when I went to the countryside and returned to the city, it was all dark on the road. The rain that hasn't stopped since noon is mixed with snow particles, and the headlights try to penetrate the cold rain curtain and guide the car on the bumpy road. At first, there was nothing but the sound of rain and the shadow of the mountain. Soon, cars and motorcycles passed by from time to time in the street. At first, you will think, who will go to the mountains so late? There are only a few remote villages there. In a particularly muddy and narrow area, the car slows down and waits for a motorcycle opposite to pass. You look carefully through the glass and find that besides the rider, there is a man and a woman sitting on the motorcycle, all young and smiling. The motorcycle rack and the back of the man sitting in the back are bulging bags. You suddenly react, this is that migrant workers come home late and rent motorcycles to go home in towns and villages. And those cars are naturally migrant workers who have the conditions to buy a car and drive home. When you understand this, you will suddenly get excited. No matter how big the mountain is or how far the road is, as long as there is home, there is hope and warmth. At a mountain pass, you vaguely heard a dog barking. "Chai Men smells dogs barking, and the snow returns at night." Yes, you smiled slightly at the corner of your mouth.

Looking at that quiet house, on the one hand, my thoughts are flying, on the other hand, I deeply feel that I have lived for so long, but I really don't know much about mountains.

Mountain, a heavy and profound book, must be measured with feet, read with religious piety, and be integrated into the vicissitudes of life for half a century. Footsteps are the foundation, step by step, step by step, step by step accurately, and implemented. A person who is not serious and disrespectful to mountains will be arrogant in his heart and vain in his steps. It's only a matter of time before he falls. Reading the trip to Wan Li Road in thousands of books was highly praised by the ancients. You used to think that the book was on the table and the road was under the wheel. Later, you gradually understand that the book is between heaven and earth, and the road is at your feet. Now you are practicing seriously with the insight of middle age. In the mountains, you bend down, keep your head down, stare at the rest place at each step, grasp the distance of each step and keep climbing. Bow your head when bending, and pay tribute to mountains and rivers and history. At the same time, you bend down, you bow your head, turn yourself into a question mark, ask questions to heaven and earth, ask questions to history, and ask questions to life. Every time I step down, there is a heavy comma. Perhaps, the process of walking has no end. Your snoozing with your back against a tree is another huge exclamation point. In this way, can you have these three symbolic gestures of walking, reading, asking questions, feeling and changing cars?

After hard work, you climbed to the top of the mountain. When you sit on a big rock and look out, your eyes light up. The mountains across the river rise and fall, extending to the depths of white clouds on the horizon. These mountains are angular, fresh and hard, full of Song Like's poems. Song poetry pays attention to bones and muscles, and is born to make footnotes for these mountains. The mountains in spring are too soft; The mountains in summer are too fat; The mountains in autumn are too colorful; Only this winter mountain is simple, thin, green, energetic and refreshing, which is very to your taste. Watching, you see those mountains as a horse, angular and skinny, standing in the cold with energy. You can't help reaching out, trying to touch their hard bones, trying to knock, whether it will make a loud gong sound. In a trance, you took a step, and you have already ridden that magical horse. When the whip of the west wind sounded, you flew away.

If you sit for a long time, cold will wrap you up. In fact, the cold is not only wrapping you, but also wrapping trees, grass, stones and mountains. Cold as a cocoon, everything as a pupa, all silent in the west wind. Suddenly, there was a loud noise. Not far from where you are sitting is a steep slope, a stone, which seems to have been frozen by the cold for a long time to exercise your bones and muscles, and seems to have broken the silence of the cage cover, suddenly broke free and rolled to the foot of the mountain. In the huge roar, your heart is beating, the heart of the tree is beating, the heart of the grass is beating, the heart of the stone is beating, and the heart of Qian Shan Wanling is beating.