Writing silkworm prose

I can't remember the first time I observed the age of a silkworm at close range. Anyway, it's very, very young, three years old? Two years old? Or even younger, at the age of one. On a large scale, my hometown Hengyang, Hunan Province is also Jiangnan, isn't it Jiangnan? But my hometown is not a water town in Jiangsu and Zhejiang, and silk is not a specialty of my hometown. But there are many mulberry trees in my hometown, and people familiar with silkworm know that mulberry is the favorite of silkworm. A silkworm can eat nothing from small to large, and mulberry leaves are enough. Isn't it a waste to have mulberry trees without using silk as a specialty? No, the role of mulberries has been played to the extreme by children. Silkworm rearing has not become a sideline for adults, but has become a favorite of children. My hometown is a big village, with dozens of families scattered along a long street and houses scattered. There used to be a pond in the north of the village, but it was later built and filled in. There is a well in the south of the village, and there are several big mulberry trees that we like. In the first memory, the acquaintance with silkworms was carried by people, and the place was under those mulberry trees. I remember some older children like picking mulberry leaves and feeding them to silkworms themselves. Their silkworms are all packed in beautiful small cartons, and the small, soft and white ones crawling inside are silkworms. "This is a silkworm, the silkworm of a silkworm baby." Children who are not much older than me are happy to be my teachers and teach me how to identify silkworms. "This is the silkworm, the silkworm baby's silkworm", although the pronunciation is incomplete, I don't know what the silkworm is, but I have seen, played and even teased mulberry leaves with them. From then on, this little thing called silkworm climbed into my memory and my heart. Later, I also had my own small paper box and my own silkworm, which I bought with some old picture books. Strictly speaking, what I owned for the first time was not silkworm eggs, or silkworm eggs. Silkworm eggs are small and black, much smaller than a sesame seed. They stuck to a piece of white paper bit by bit. "Here, you put it on the pillow, and it will soon become a silkworm," said the child who is not much older than me. "Can these little eggs really become silkworms?" I'll be skeptical. Then, that little piece of paper became my baby, and I really put it on the pillow, far away, afraid that they would fly over, near and press them. Sure enough, it didn't take long for the small balls on those pieces of paper to change magically. From those black spots, they climbed out of their small heads, all with long tails and white bodies. Oh, baby silkworm, my surprise is beyond words. Later, taking care of silkworms, picking mulberry leaves for silkworms and watching them grow up slowly became my main life content. In my childhood, I watched a silkworm from egg to egg, from egg to cocoon, from silkworm to butterfly, and then the butterfly laid eggs and the eggs became silkworms. It is very interesting to see how a silkworm is born from an egg, from a young silkworm to a big silkworm, from a big silkworm to spinning, from spinning to cocoon formation, then breaking the cocoon into a butterfly, then from a butterfly to an egg, and then from an egg to a silkworm. The first time I saw my silkworm spinning silk, I felt a sense of accomplishment. I jumped high and held the silkworm straight in front of my mother. "Mom, my silkworm is spinning, my silkworm is spinning." I can't wait for my mother to share my happiness. Mother cooked in front of the stove, and the stove burned her face red. "You are a silkworm, of course you have to spin silk." My mother looked at me happily, looking very happy and distressed. "Why do silkworms spin silk?" I asked again. "Silly boy, silkworms don't spin silk. How can you get dressed?" Mom said happily again. At that time, I realized that silkworm silk can be used to make clothes. Later, when I saw that the silkworm surrounded itself with its own silk, I was a little puzzled. He asked his mother again, "Mom, why do silkworms surround themselves with their own silk?" "You see, the silkworm vomited so much silk that you didn't take it out to make clothes. It covers itself. " "But how did it get out?" It can come in by itself, and it will always find its own way out. ""Then why did it come out? " "If it doesn't come out, how can it give birth to a silkworm baby? "I was confused and asked my mother a lot of questions. Sure enough, it didn't take long for the silkworm to break out of its cocoon, but when it came out, it had become a butterfly. I don't know what changes the silkworm has experienced in that thick cocoon, turning a bug that once crawled on the ground into a butterfly. I think this change must be very strange. After the silkworm becomes a butterfly, it will exist for a short time and lay eggs quickly. When silkworms lay eggs, I will follow them with white paper like other children. The more eggs laid by silkworms, the happier I am, because I have more capital to show off and more conditions to exchange things with other children. However, when a silkworm dies, it will soon be the end of its life. I will feel infinite sadness when I see a once weak silkworm, a silkworm that once ate mulberry leaves vigorously, a silkworm that once turned into a butterfly, and a butterfly lying quietly in my carton. When I was nine years old, my mother, who was still working in the field the day before, died of illness. From then on, I bid farewell to my hometown, the rows of ancient streets in my hometown, the ancient well at the end of the ancient street, the mulberry trees beside the ancient well, and followed my father to live in his work unit. The children there raise silkworms very well, and they also encourage me to raise them, but I am no longer interested in raising silkworms, or even talking about silkworms with others. When I was interested in silkworms again, I read Li Shangyin's poem Untitled: "Time was long before I met her, but after parting, the east wind started and a hundred flowers blossomed. Silkworms in spring will weave until they die, and candles will drain the wick every night. In the morning, she saw her hair cloud changing in the mirror, but she bravely faced the cold of the moonlight with her evening song. There is no way to Pengshan. Oh, Bluebird, listen! -Give me what she said! . "Li Shangyin's poems are always full of sadness, and so is this one. I believe it is not his negligence that such a good poem is untitled. Silence is better than sound, and no topic is better than asking questions. He must have a lot to say in this poem. When I read this poem and the sentence "Spring silkworms will spin silk until they die", I felt stung by something. Hometown, ancient streets, ancient wells, mulberry trees, silkworms, cocoons, butterflies, mothers ... all these scenes closely related to my hometown flooded into my memory, and I think I understood silkworms at that moment. Yes, silkworms are weak, their bodies are weak, mulberry leaves are their only hobby in life, and spinning silk is their only goal and choice in life. In order to spin silk, they become silkworms, butterflies and butterflies. Day after day, year after year, generation after generation, they weave dreams and truth into mulberry leaves. However, a silkworm never gives vent to its resentment. They are used to loneliness and silence, to love and dedication. If there is any love in the world that can be compared with the love that silkworms pour out to the world in spinning, it may only be the supreme, purest and most selfless maternal love. At the moment I read about silkworms, I felt a silkworm crawling in my heart. Nostalgia and memory are its endless mulberry leaves, and my yearning for my hometown and mother is its endless silk thread. Later, after I learned something about Zen theory, I often asked myself: Is silkworm Zen?