Refusing to Fall Behind

Meanwhile, by the familiar little creek.

"Sasuke, you may choose however you wish. The training he offers is far too dark; even if I see you becoming immensely powerful, the dangers and the agony of that training will inevitably be great."

Yi Xiang said to Sasuke in a low voice, fully disclosing the future experiences Sasuke would have after meeting Orochimaru and leaving Konoha.

0

People often realize certain truths and gain experience only after going through various events, but I have become accustomed to finding such realizations amidst the mountains and waters of nature. Immersed in the beautiful, picturesque landscape, my state of mind becomes exceptionally tranquil. I forget all the clamor of the mundane world and cast aside the burdens of every mission, leaving nothing in my heart but the scene before me—a landscape of lush mountains, clear waters, and the fragrance of birds and flowers.

Fallen Petals: Selfless Devotion

A gust of breeze sweeps by, and countless peach blossoms drift silently from the branches, dancing gracefully with the wind. An observer can only sigh—such a dance belongs only to the heavens; how many times in the human world can one witness it? Yet, no matter how beautiful, it is but a fleeting moment. When the wind stops and the flowers fall, only a carpet of crimson remains.

"The flowers fall, do what one may; the beautiful days and scenes are no more." Originally, like Lin Daiyu in Dream of the Red Chamber, I felt sorrow for the withering of fallen flowers. But when I saw all the fallen petals resting quietly near the roots of the trees, I suddenly recalled the poem by Li Yishan: "Fallen petals are not heartless things; they turn into spring mud to protect the flowers." Indeed, who says fallen petals are not beautiful? They have simply left the mortal world to nourish the earth that once sustained them! If even fallen petals are like this, what about us? Can we be as selfless and great as those fallen petals? Perhaps the answer is no, but I think we should learn to gradually consider others and contribute our own small strength to society. Even if it is only a little, for many, it is already precious.

Flowing Water: Cherish Time

The mountain path winds upward; as the saying goes, "the winding path leads to a secluded place." Raising my eyes, I see a babbling creek flowing eastward. The water flows slowly—has anyone ever seen it pause for even a moment? "A hundred rivers flow east to the sea; when will they return to the west?" Flowing water never returns, just as time slips away from us, bit by bit. It passes silently, yet it takes our youth with it. Time flies like a shuttle; before we know it, we have undergone tremendous changes, yet you and I have never noticed...

Time spares no one. We must cherish our time, seize every second of the present, and not let it pass in vain. We must not reach the end only to sigh that "youth is like water, never to return." Now, we should strive upward, study hard, and not keep putting things off until tomorrow. Remember, "Tomorrow follows tomorrow; how many tomorrows are there?" Therefore, from this moment on, let us cherish time, seize the present, and achieve the future!

Green Bamboo: Unyielding Resilience

Beside the clear stream, several stalks of green bamboo stand proudly. Their emerald hue is a delight to the eyes. From ancient times to the present, how many scholars and poets have composed verses for it, and how many have been obsessed with it... Someone once asked me, "What is the charm of bamboo? Its appearance is not particularly bright or gorgeous; how can it compare to the intoxicating beauty of peonies or roses?" I merely smiled upon hearing this. How can one understand the charm of bamboo by looking only at its appearance? What is most admirable and captivating about bamboo is not its looks, but its unyielding, proud, and upright character!

"It remains strong despite a thousand blows and ten thousand strikes, indifferent to the winds from all directions." Whether facing storms, heavy rain, or the scorching sun, bamboo never yields. How can one not be awed by such a towering, indomitable spirit? In fact, bamboo is more than just unyielding; it possesses the detachment and simplicity of the chrysanthemum, the "hermit among flowers," and the strength and integrity of the plum blossom, the "gentleman among flowers."

By appreciating bamboo, you will understand much, and those are exactly the things we need to learn.

In my intimate contact with nature, I forgot everything, yet I grasped the beauty of nature and learned lessons that will serve me for a lifetime.

0

I am a grain of sand, drifting across the earth with the wind. The tides of time gently lap against my body; I go from here to there, drifting without a trace.

I once met a bird; he flapped his broad wings, incomparably beautiful. His feathers drifted in the air, carrying me along. I leaned gently against his back, where there was a heat that could melt my entire being in an instant. The wind told me, "He never sings."

I climbed up to look at his beak; the beautiful arc cut through the resistance of the air, his beak nearly perfect. I asked him, "Where are you going?" He answered, "To the place where I must sing." I pressed my face close to his beak, feeling the same heat that could scorch the air.

I saw him perch on a branch, the setting sun casting an orange glow upon him. He took flight, causing the tree trunk to sway incessantly in the wind behind him. He shot out, his beak slicing through the dry air like a sharp blade, his beautiful wings held tightly shut. Finally, I saw him rush toward a cluster of thorns. His body was instantly enveloped by the thorns, and a red liquid surged from every puncture, staining his beautiful feathers. It was a heat that burned the sunset cast upon the thorns. At this moment, his beautiful beak slowly opened, and from it burst a music of absolute beauty, shaking the firmament above the vast, empty valley.

The wind said, "He does not sing, but when he does, he startles the world."

I said, "But it is at the cost of his life."

The wind said, "He is in great pain."

I said, "But he is beautiful!"

The wind carried me onward. I flew over fields and mountain hollows, occasionally resting by a creek. I travel, I follow; when the wind rises, I dance.

I heard singing on the mountain, low and resonant. They sang, "The country is broken, there is no home; we gather shepherd's purse in the deep mountains. The shepherd's purse is edible, but where is home?" I saw them in coarse clothes, carrying firewood on their backs, walking along the rugged mountain paths. Lines of water flowed from their eyes, their voices gradually growing hoarse. Finally, they strained their throats, the wind carrying the sound of tearing vocal cords.

"The country is broken, there is no home; we gather shepherd's purse in the deep mountains. The shepherd's purse is edible, but where is home?" The singing mingled with the wind, drifting into the firmament. The wind said, "Shu Qi and Bo Yi are gathering shepherd's purse, their bodies and minds exhausted."

The next day, I saw the morning dew slide from the tips of leaves. The faint light of dawn shone on the lifeless faces of Bo Yi and Shu Qi; on their faces, two lines of water still hung.

The bird remained perched on the treetop, calling out. The leaves rustled, dripping dew onto the ground.

I said, "Truly beautiful!"

The wind said, "Yet the price was to be abandoned in the wilderness."

I drifted on, wandering with the wind. Autumn approached, and the leaves withered. The wind whistled, and the leaves drifted, dancing as they spun in the air, silently merging into the earth, without a sound.

I said, "Falling into the mud to be ground into dust."

The wind said nothing.

I said to the wind, "Put me down!"

I stayed among my companions. The fallen leaves merged into the earth with a rustle beside us; it was a painful process of fusion.

I remembered the final song of the Thorn Bird, mournful and exquisitely beautiful!

A river mussel asked us, "Which of you is willing to go with me?"

I saw my companions shaking their heads.

I said to him, "I will go."

"Do you know it will be painful to the bone, bitter beyond words?"

"I know, but I desire the beauty that comes after the pain even more."

I jumped into the river mussel, and the sunlight cast itself upon my small face.

0

A few days ago, the first string of my folk guitar snapped while I was playing.

I still vaguely remember my expression at the time: it was as if the sky had collapsed. I stared blankly at the dying guitar string with my mouth agape for a long time, and finally, two words spilled out: "It... snapped?!" Stop! People who play folk guitar will surely think I am making a mountain out of a molehill—not just making a mountain out of a molehill, but perhaps even having a mental breakdown. That's right, snapping a guitar string is the most common thing in the world when learning folk guitar, and the solution is effortless—go to a music store or guitar classroom and replace it, and you're done.

But I am different! My guitar journey went like this: when I first started, I was in a guitar class, but eventually, because the tuition was simply too expensive, I chose to teach myself. At this point, you must be thinking: why not just go back to the guitar class and have it replaced? I can only say, that is the main reason for my shock!

Go back to where I used to learn guitar to change a string? This seems somewhat bizarre, and even more unacceptable. I couldn't imagine the situation of seeing the guitar teacher; how awkward would that be! In the end, my mom gave me an ultimatum: if I wanted to keep learning, I had to go there and get it fixed; if I didn't go, I should stop learning altogether! Heavens, it was a rhythm that was trying to drive me to my death in minutes! Who told my family that I was the only idle person with time on Saturday and Sunday to go change a string? Helpless, I had to call my friend to go with me to that hellhole to change the guitar string. Actually, my mindset was a bit pessimistic; this matter shouldn't have been that difficult, not as awkward as I imagined, but who told me that my family has been like this for generations? It's rooted deep. What's even more helpless is that although my friend hasn't learned guitar, she didn't dare to help me change the string by herself either. So, the only remaining "better" option was left: let's go together! Finally, we arrived at the door, and the words "XX Guitar Training Class" stood outside.

Sigh, could it be that coming here again was a last resort, rather than out of a thirst for knowledge? Why don't you carry the guitar and tell the teacher? I know this is a desperate struggle. Don't be silly, if I carry the guitar, won't it be obvious who you are? It's fine, it's not like we're doing anything shady. Don't be afraid. If you really care about me, just go in, help me change it, and come back out. I knew she wouldn't agree, because in fact, she is even shyer than me. Besides, before we came, she had told me repeatedly that she was only an escort. So, after saying this, I finally walked into the classroom with a flourish. The teacher who used to teach me was teaching some unfamiliar faces. At this moment, he saw me and seemed very surprised. Before he could say the first word, I hurriedly explained: I'm here to change a guitar string. Looking at my friend again, sigh, she had already hidden far away. "Oh." He didn't say another word. After the string was changed, he only said one thing: "5 yuan." After I paid, he continued teaching his guitar class without another word, but looking at him, he must have recognized me. I ran out of that annoying place. Although I achieved my goal and thought about how I could get back in touch with this old guitar, thinking about that scene, it was still very awkward. Was I being too serious? It really was nothing, right! It felt like a very empty feeling. When I got home, I couldn't concentrate while playing the guitar. What is wrong with me? However, this experience was all "no danger, just a scare," right!

I hope I forget about this soon.