The externalization of the soul, the extension of life

Self-preface to the selection of Gudao Prose

This is a self-selected collection of my prose, the externalization of my soul and the extension of my life.

This is my seventh book and my fourth collection of essays, which I value most, which is selected by myself and incorporated into most of my life's joys and sorrows, as well as my long contemplation on life and the world.

Whether you like it or not, whether you are happy or unhappy, or even saying it is worthless or praising it is valuable, it will be there, keeping a kind of silence, maintaining a kind of dignity, and carrying countless consciences.

With the rare conscience of this era, it exists independently, and from yesterday to today, and from today to tomorrow, these iron words, like myself, are a little upright, a little sorrowful and melancholy, and a little like Lu Xun, my hard-bones fellow villager and my old friend in my last life. It can not be said that the words are brilliant, but it can be said that each article is condensed with my painstaking efforts, condensing blood, sweat, tears and salt between the lines, recording the imprint of my hard journey in Xinjiang as a traveler in the south of the Yangtze River.

Ah, Jiangnan is the mother of my literature, giving me intelligence, affection and ingenuity; the northwest is the father of my literature, giving me rugged, deep and masculine! From then on, my words are strong and soft, and both water and fire are economical.

I started from poetry, which is my first love. Since I wrote my first blackboard poem in Hangzhou University in 1982, the muse has been in the same boat with me ever since. On the other hand, prose let me move from excitement to peace, and let my soul find a spiritual basis, just like my wife who is accompanied day and night in literature, freely and casually describe the vicissitudes of heaven and earth through the passion and beautiful images of poetry, and express my heart spirit which is scarred but still pure.

In many lectures or literary reports at home and abroad, such as Xinjiang, Zhejiang and Hong Kong, I have expressed my view of prose: truth, truth and truth (true knowledge). With these three truths of prose, good prose is excellent. I have always encouraged myself with this.

Like many talented poets at all times and all over the world, I have had a period of youth, but I soon realized that talent is not the most important thing in life, but morality is. I always remember the motto of a foreign celebrity: lack of talent can be made up for by morality; lack of morality can make up for nothing. And Dr. Sun Yat-sen, whom I respect, also said: the more intelligent and powerful he is, he should try his best to serve thousands of people and create the happiness of thousands of people. Those with less intelligence and ability should try their best to serve a hundred people and create a blessing for a hundred people. Those who contribute selflessly to others and society from generation to generation are those who truly shake heaven and earth and cry ghosts and spirits and are remembered by the public and history.

In my opinion, the final comparison of the article is not a novel style, clever skills or gorgeous words, but the realm of artificial writing. The realm is high, even with an ordinary sentence or an ordinary analogy, it can move people, or wake people from nightmares. On the contrary, those poems that are low or even empty, how to play with the kaleidoscope of art, their works are still a pile of rubbish. While others rely on temporary hype, become popular in the literary world, but finally can not stand the test of time and history, like a meteor across the sky and disappear forever.

In this anthology of mine, the words that pop up from the depths of my bones contain nature, society, life, culture, sincerity and humility, suffering and love, the passion of a poet and the compassion of a Buddhist man. There is also the reason of the Yi scholar (I Ching expert).

Maybe it's enough, maybe it's not enough, and that's all I can do.

Author: isolated Island