I planned to paint today, and I was surrounded by a strong atmosphere of ancestor worship as soon as I got up. Since you can't go home to sweep the grave, let's sit here quietly for a while.
Many times, thanks to the culture created by the ancients, joy and sadness are intertwined in poetry. During the Dragon Boat Festival, because Qu Yuan sank into the river, people remembered him by eating, wrapping and cooking palm seed, and remembered this great poet in the laughter of secular life. On the Mid-Autumn Festival, because of the feminization of national character and the expulsion of the Dalai Lama, people get together to eat moon cakes on a full moon night. When the bright moon appeared from the boundless sea of clouds and mist, we sat around and enjoyed tea and the moon. I wish people a long time, thousands of miles away. Su Dongpo's pen has relieved many hearts that have left sorrow and hate for thousands of years.
Tomb-Sweeping Day and the Cold Food Festival are similar in time, so many customs of the Cold Food Festival have been transplanted, and the two festivals merged after thousands of years. Su Dongpo once wrote a post. Although this post was not written by Tomb-Sweeping Day, I like it because it has something to do with Tomb-Sweeping Day. The cabin is like a fishing boat in a misty water cloud. Cold dishes are cooked in the air and reeds are burned in the kitchen. Even if you are sick, you should be poetic, lying in the bitter rain and smelling begonia flowers. It's a pity that the house is as big as a fishing boat but it doesn't leak. What a pity. Tomb-Sweeping Day also wants to eat pickles and cold dishes, but the table at home is full of fish.
Oriental traditional festivals can't be separated from scenery. Only by cooking cold dishes with heart can we realize the high unity of form and content. In the drizzle that seems to be nothing, I can't forget going to the grave for a long time, and the sky is depressed. Even optimistic people will bow their heads and burn incense silently. But early spring is green, without the killing of winter, the mountains and rivers are saturated with fresh and charming beauty, and people who go to the grave will not be sad and shed tears. The sadness at this time is beautiful. Love and scenery in the cold spring.
During the Qingming Festival, peach blossoms bloom and fall, apricot blossoms wither in a hurry, and the drizzle solidifies the bamboos and pear trees in the blue-gray air, and hemp fibers are cut out of the mulberry fields. The grave is beside the pool, ancestor worship is the content, and hanging green is the form. Burn paper, set off firecrackers, find a suitable bamboo pole to hang green, it's time to go home. When the women and children went back happily, I fell behind that year and suddenly turned back. There is a lonely grave lying in the local area. The weeds and crops in front of the grave are in a mess, and the excitement in an instant is becoming more and more desolate. The green on the grave is particularly dazzling and will beep like the wind tearing it up. Let it hang. We need such a ceremony. In the silent forest and lonely grave, we need it to dance endlessly to remember the lost soul. Are you back? Did you see it? I hesitated for a while, and finally turned and left, leaving the green dancing alone like an elf and the approaching dusk.
Sometimes I think, if human beings reproduce like turtles, hatch from eggs and climb into the sea, they will lose their joys and sorrows when they are young, and where will you go? It is really a blessing in human misfortune.