Chapter 38 Spring is still here, people are gone

I remember a branch of plum blossom, white plum, blooming inside the high wall, the wall is the color of autumn ginkgo, and the blue tiles are engraved with the words of a certain age.It is such a branch of plum that blooms in the ancient temple in the mountains and forests that makes me unforgettable in my life.It is said that the lotus has Buddha nature, it is like a spirit, floating in every corner of the temple, pervasive.And plum blossoms, forget the spring scenery in the world, don't know the east style, feel lonely and peaceful.I am a nostalgic woman, I like the only one, but it is difficult to choose between these two kinds of flowers.The seasons are arranged, when you meet Mei, you have to leave Lian.

I'm not one to absolutely believe in fate.But admit, I believe in cause and effect, and in fate.Some quacks said that I had a karma with Buddha in my previous life, so I will continue this unfinished karmic relationship in this life.Later, another eminent monk in the temple said that I had a deep connection with Buddhism and wanted to save me.I don't take any of these things seriously, I'm a casual woman, I can't keep the rules, the so-called fate is just some kind of spiritual agreement.I don't believe in Buddhism, but I can't deny that I like the ethereal Zen environment of the temple, the cool fragrance of sandalwood, the compassion of a plant in front of the Buddha, and the ancient bronze mirror on the beam.But I am more greedy for the mundane world, the warmth of a fire with salary, and the fragrance with all five flavors.My wish is to spend time in Jiangnan, under a wooden window, with a gentle and mediocre man, vegetarian and commoner.

Read a plum blossom poem, a plum blossom poem written by a monk.The state of mind of the monk is mingled with the meaning of Zen, so that the plum blossoms are also elegant and elegant. "The spring in the world is like the sea, and the loneliness loves the mountain family... The future has no color, where is the horizontal slope..." This plum tree is not in the sea-like spring in the world, competing with all the flowers, but willing to be lonely, blooming alone in the mountains and forests.It hangs time on the mottled gable wall, so that those who live in the world can see its elegant appearance and faint fragrance.It never longs for spring, nor expresses the sadness between its brows to anyone, but only occasionally confides a little thin heart to the moon.Sometimes it looks like a woman who has lived in a deep boudoir for a long time, sometimes it looks like a noble scholar who hides in the forest, and sometimes it looks like a monk sitting in the clouds.No matter who it is, we just need to remember that it loves tranquility and does not envy prosperity, and it loves nature and does not like light makeup.

Later, I learned that the monk who wrote this plum blossom poem was called Zen Master Jing'an, also known as Jichan and Bazhidutuo. He was a famous and extraordinary monk.But I prefer his other nickname, Monk Baimei.It is this outstanding poet monk who loves plum blossoms among a hundred flowers and is the author of "Poetry Collection of Baimei".Maybe it's because of the similar names, or maybe it's because of people who love plums together. What's more coincidental is that the birthdays of monk Baimei and I are both in the twelfth lunar month, only one day apart.The twelfth lunar month, the season of plum blossoms, is really destined in the dark, and you are not allowed to suspect.If you look at it with an ordinary mind, everything in the world is connected with each other, and passing by is also a kind of fate.Fate, there is no distance in space and time, only a petal of heart fragrance, separated by thousands of rivers and mountains, can finally come together.

Zen Master Jing'an has a deep connection with Buddhism.Born in the first year of Xianfeng in the Qing Dynasty, he worshiped the moon with his mother when he was young, and his mother told him stories about Buddha, Bodhisattva and immortals.Later, his parents died, his family was poor, and he had tasted the bitterness of the world early.But at a young age, he has good thoughts in his heart, so there is only a thin wall of sound between him and Buddhism.When he was fourteen years old, it was raining one day, and he saw the scattered white peach blossoms all over the ground in the fenced yard, and he cried out of emotion.Luo Hua opened the door of his heart for him, so he went to Fahua Temple in Xiangyin, and became a monk according to a Donglin monk.The name of the Dharma is Jing'an, and the character is Jizen.From then on, I cut off my worldly thoughts, sat in meditation and practiced hard, cold and hot, and decades of time were all given to the Buddha.Zen master Jing'an has the mind to integrate all things and the compassion to save all beings. He expresses his ambition through poetry, takes off the fireworks in the world, and conveys the deep meaning of Zen.

In this life, because of the turmoil in the imperial court, he also experienced the ups and downs of the prosperity of Buddhist affairs and the decline of temples.But he was determined to rejuvenate, taught Zen in four seasons, spread Buddhism, and revived the sect.Jing An is not only a poet monk, Zen monk, but also an ascetic monk.He loves Wuyue mountains and rivers. He once visited famous mountains and ancient temples alone, holding a bamboo stick, straw sandals and broken bowls, often singing in forests and springs.He used stones as his pillow, clouds as his quilt, pine cones as his food, and swallowed them with spring water.He once thought about meditating before the Buddha, without worries, and even quit poetry: from now on, the stones are rotten and the pines are withered, and they will no longer sing the wind and the moon.However, his fate with poetry is not inferior to his fate with Buddha and Mei.In the end, the title of the poem won all over the world, almost covering up his Zen name.This makes me believe in fate even more. Some things and some people will be entangled for a lifetime and cannot be shaken off.

Just like the plums that bloom in the Buddhist temple, the plums that bloom on the edge of the paper, and the plums that bloom in the heart, it seems that there are few spots of light ink and clear marks, and they are scattered, but the flowers and branches are connected, and it is difficult to part.Watching each other's ice and snow world, quiet and gorgeous, pure and beautiful, firm and soft.A person who loves plums should have the character and elegance of plums, and be calm and open-minded when no one appreciates them.If you can't do it, it doesn't matter, just make a simple plum, and put yourself outside the mountain post, beside the broken bridge and flowing water, blooming and falling quietly.Forget the age, forget that you can still give the grass and trees a fragrance, and give the dust and mud warmth.

When I think about it, there is love in thousands of rivers and mountains.Once the thought is extinguished, the vicissitudes of life are gone.Zen Master Jing'an once went to Ashoka Temple in Ningbo to worship Buddha's relics.When he saw the relic of the Buddha's real body, he was very excited. After prostrating and worshiping, he cut out a piece of meat from his own arm and put it in the lamp, and lit his two fingers as offering to the Buddha.His Zen mind was firm and shocking, and he later called himself "Bazhiduo".With a compassionate heart, he loved plum blossoms and wrote countless poems about plum blossoms. The god of plum blossoms, the quality of plum blossoms, the bones of plum blossoms, and the rhyme of plum blossoms are all put into pen and ink, flowing on rice paper like snow and beauty.The heart of poetry is a bright moon, and thousands of trees and flowers are buried in the bones. People will never forget that there was once a monk with white plums and a relationship with plum blossoms.

Dharma is boundless, life is boundless.If you want to live in the monastery once, just once.Listen to the bells and drums once, read a volume of scriptures, watch the haze, taste a cup of weak tea, and pick a plum blossom.I can't remember how many times I made the same wish in front of the Buddha, and I said to the Buddha: "Buddha, you allow me to realize my dream in this life, and I will listen to your Zen in the next life." Holding the tail of youth, although you can't grow the appearance of vicissitudes, you can't return to the crystal clear yesterday.And what I made in front of the Buddha was still the same wish.Is it a dream come true?Or dream too much?Even myself, do not understand.

How many ups and downs in ancient and modern times are all hidden in the smoke screen of willows, and the eminent monks are far away, and they will never meet again.I also just remember that there was a monk Baimei, who cared about grass, trees and dust, whether he would know that there was a me was not important.The plum blossoms are all gone, the mountains and rivers remain the same, Xiaoxiang is cloudy and watery, and the autumn dream has no trace.