Chapter 5 Often, I think of that mountain

Often, I think of that sitting on a mountain. It stands on the land calmly and steadily, like a paperweight.It is beautiful and dignified, and holds this paper affectionately, so that we can write our history on this paper. Sometimes it is on the noisy and dusty streets of Taipei; When I was in great pain, I always thought of that mountain. Either in the eyes, or in the chest, as a Chinese, I want a mountain in my heart. Confucius needed a Mount Tai to let him realize how small the world is. Li Bai needs a Jingting Mountain, so that he can have someone to "never tire of looking at each other" when the clouds are flying and the birds are exhausted.

Xin Jiaxuan needs a charming green mountain, so that he can feel the "emotion and appearance" that he is similar to the mountain. If you are Chinese, you have the right to ask God for a mountain. The mountain I want is called Lala Mountain. "Is Lala the Thaiyal language?" I asked Hu, the Thaiyal driver. "yes." "What do you mean Lara?" "I don't know either." He scratched his head for a while, and suddenly said happily, "Oh, it's probably because here is also a mountain, and there is also a mountain, and the mountain and the mountain are hand in hand, so it is called Lala Mountain. !"

How did I remember to use Mandarin words to explain the pronunciation of Tayal?But I have to like this kind of poetic explanation, which is not fake at all. As soon as he finished speaking, I looked up, and saw vivid blue brushing into people's eyes, and the top of the mountain was facing the top of the mountain. Hold hands and form a beautiful circle. In November, the weather has been sunny and cool all the time, but it has been sunny all the time. When the weather is too good, I am always uneasy. I am hopeful that the wind will get better day after day, and I am indescribably anxious. I was determined to go to the mountains, alone.

To put it more clearly, a person, a grown woman, a woman who is living a very happy life, neither escapes from anything, nor does she want to come out to "relax"--I am afraid that she came out to "remove her mind" and take her scattered everywhere. Heart. A person, with a piece of bread and a few yellow oranges, went to visit mountains and rivers. Some landscapes exist almost exclusively to be scary, such as the Grand Canyon, which makes you suddenly realize that you are as insignificant as a dust. Some scenery is melancholy, such as a small bridge and flowing water (perhaps with a weeping willow, and the vague sound of chickens and dogs). It makes you find that the world you should have entered, but somehow you can’t enter it.

Some scenery is very safe, it does not touch you violently, it does not harass you, like the fountain on the streets of Rome, it is just a scenery, it is only for you to take pictures. But what I want is a scene that shocks me, like when Baoyu saw Daiyu for the first time, without eyes or skin, he just said in a trance: "I've seen this sister before." He explained again: "Although I haven't seen it before, but looking at Mian Shan, I feel like meeting again after a long separation." What I want is a familiar landscape—whether I first met it in Wang Wei's poems, encountered it in Liu Zongyuan's Yongzhou Eight Records, chewed it in Shi Tao's ink and became a mark, or in the soul In the dream, every bit of stone and tree accumulates and there is love.

I want a landscape that I can see and be seen by.I want a familiar world where "this mountain is me, I am this mountain, this water is like me, and I am like water". Is there a kind of landscape that can be annotated with me?Is there a kind of landscape that can confirm with me? Like the prelude to an opera, there are hills all the way, on a small scale, and you feel that a vague theme is about to appear. Suddenly, a motorcycle passed by, and someone loaded wild taro leaves in the back seat, one densely stacked, five feet horizontally, and about four feet high, which looked like a majestic big green jade from a distance.Reminds me of Yu Guangzhong's poem—then fold a wider lotus leaf

take a piece of moonlight back Going back and being caught in Tang poems flat, like overwhelmed lovesickness There are not many lotus leaves in Taiwan, but the mountains are full of large wild taro leaves, heart-shaped and so green that you can't breathe. It is really a strange leaf. In the past, we used to wrap a square of tofu in banana leaves in the market. A slice of pork can be wrapped in wild taro leaves—a luxurious wrapper. Along the way, I saw many motorcycles carrying wild taro leaves. How many beautiful wrapping papers will appear in the market tomorrow! The mountain scenery became more and more reserved, and the autumn scenery became more and more transparent. I began to sit upright. If Mi Dian was a stone and the rabbit crown bowed down, how should I face the mountain with thousands of rocks?

The car is going up, the sun is going down, and the golden sunset is wandering on the large hillside, I don't know whether to stay and belong to the mountain, or catch up to die for the setting sun. Together with Twilight, I arrived at Revival. At the end of the trail, at the gap in the reeds, you can overlook the Dahan River. The stream is extremely green. The twilight is getting deeper, and the strange thing is that the green of the stream stubbornly cracks the twilight, insisting on maintaining its own tone. It was completely dark, and I was surprised to find that the green was still flowing vigorously, and I could see it even with my eyes closed in the dark.

See it or not, I know it's green there. There are about one hundred plums in the courtyard. "There are still 30 to 40 days left for the flowering period." The people in the villa told me this, even though the weather was already cold. The plum leaves have withered, and the plum blossoms have not been cut. I can only stand upright and appreciate the clear and upright bones of the plum tree. The plumb bone is an extremely dark earthy brown, the same color as the rock.What is more like a rock is that the plum bone is also covered with moss spots. It even has the rough weather of the rock, the cracks of the rock, the old rock of the rock, and the twigs and branches of the plum. Linear rocks.

It is unimaginable that how can flowers burst out of such a silent rock? How come there are so many shiny petals locked in the barren branches?And so many small leaves that will be transparently green in the future, where are they now?Why is the only pregnant flower tree so clear and ancient?How could those thousands of flower fetuses hide such secrets? I almost want to cut the branches and dig the ground to see where is the dark fragrance that will float under the moon in the future?Let's see where is the innocence that can bully Shuang Aoxue in the future?They must be fasting and bathing, waiting for the divine call. On a certain night when the north wind is bleak, they will suddenly show the world together.

Thousands of miles away, Wang Weineng looked back and saw the cold plum in his memory under the window of his hometown.After thirty or forty days of flowering, I foresee the brilliance in my imagination in the withered tree arms. It is not impossible to hear thunder in a silent place and see flowers in a colorless place! I woke up late at night and walked to the courtyard alone. It was completely black all around, against which the sky was full of stars and the water was clear. I haven't appreciated the beauty of black for a long time.I think of Anna Karenina described by Tolstoy. At the ball, other girls thought she was going to wear a violet dress, but she actually wore a black one with a ring of sparkling diamonds around her neck. Peerless. Civilization has polluted the night, and black is a very delicate color, which is more impervious to foreign matter than white. In the dark night, under the stars, the big tree stands upright, looking taller than in the daytime. The old house left over from the Japanese era, one tile after another, has countless vicissitudes. Suddenly, I felt surrounded by cinnamon. There must be a naked laurel tree, I can't see it, but, of course, it's there.Osmanthus is a kind of tree that is not easy to see in the daytime, let alone in the night as black as pine smoke, if you must look for it, you should be able to find it with your nose.But why bother?It is not important to find the osmanthus tree, it is important to be able to stand in the strong and classic fragrance of osmanthus and listen to what the breath is spitting out. I circled the garden several times, and returned without error to the border of the sweet-scented osmanthus, until my whole lungs were filled with sweet fragrance. Like a mysterious experience between a believer and a god, the sweet-scented osmanthus that night was also a mysterious experience for me.There is a kind of flower, you do not see it, but you believe it exists.There is a voice that you don't hear, but you know you understand. I went to Jishan and took the first morning train.The car only goes to Baling (what a shocking place name), and it takes four hours to go to Lala Mountain - the residence of Shenmu. Said: "If the mountain does not come, then Muhammad - Muhammad will go to the mountain." However, when I went to Mount Ji, I was like a boat without oars and bows all the way through the green waves. On the one hand, I felt the joy of being a person and an animal, and I could climb the peak and cross In the desert, you can go to any place where warblers fly and grass grows or poor mountains and rivers, but on the one hand, I am also shocked to find that mountains have come to me. When I went to Jishan, what I crossed was space, flat space, and straight space. But the mountain is me, the time that has passed, from the beginning, it is slowly coming, a date of one hundred thousand years or one million years. When I went to the mountain, the mountain had already come to me, and we finally met. Eileen Chang talked about love and said: Meet the people you meet among thousands of people, in thousands of years, time In the boundless wilderness, there is neither an early step nor a late step. There is nothing else to say, only to ask softly: "Oh, are you here too." The same is true for the love between human beings and mountains. They meet in infinite time and intersect in infinite space. A small love affair is concluded at that intersection, like a small bird's nest, occasionally built among the vertical and horizontal branches. I was amazed for a long time by the names of places, people, books, and buildings and pavilions that did not exist even though all literati and scholars were inscribed on gold and stone. (The names on those stamps can neither be said to be true nor false, but it can only be said that they are conceived in the heart of the square inch and built in the jade stone within the inch.) The Chinese name Heng is so solemn and solemn. On the road leading to Baling, I was surprised by a road sign popping up in the boundless smoke and fog. The name is snow fog I stood up and looked and looked in confidence. Some people in the car were sleeping, some people were in a daze, no one paid attention to the name, only I was secretly surprised.Alas, people who live in the mountains have already developed a resistance to beauty, like Wei Yingwu's poem "It is commonplace to see nothingness, and it breaks the heart of the Suzhou governor".And I am also fragile, a little bit of beauty is already too much for me to bear, not to mention this unexpected, sudden beauty.What's more, there is such a name in the high place where the mountains are stacked and the water is wrong. It is a solid and compact poem, that name. If the name is good and normal, that's fine. For example, "Yunxiaping" is good enough to carry weight, but "Xue Wu Nao" is too good, which makes me panic and almost lose my composure. The red apricot branches are in spring, but that kind of trouble is just the accidental beauty of a good girl in the boudoir, but the snow and mist are entangled, and there is a majestic atmosphere in it. One contract. Like leaving a densely circled verse in a poetry book, I left that name in the mountains and rivers, and moved on. The car passed Gaoyi, and many children with schoolbags got out of the car.Gao Yi Elementary School is on it. In Taiwan, no matter how high the mountain is, you will always see an elementary school with gray cement walls and red letters, which has a simple beauty that is not noisy. When the children got out of the car, I don't know if it was the principal's order, and each of them respectfully said loudly to the driver and the driver: "Thank you, auntie!" "Thank you, uncle!" What a pleasure to serve in this car. May those children never know that they are called "customers" after paying, and may they never know the one-sided morality of "the customer is always right". It is the first bus in the morning, the path leading to the classroom with the morning mist not thinning, and the child who has just started to carry his schoolbag. With a "thank you", the sun rises. The peaks turn around, sometimes the left eye reads the water, the right eye reads the mountains, sometimes the left eye sees the mountains one by one, and sometimes the right eye circles the lines of water-the giant book of mountains and rivers is so inexhaustible. It must be fun to be a driver on the alpine route, right?In the morning, see how the shadow of Dongshan covers Xishan, and at dusk, when the shuttle bus returns, see how the shadow of Dongshan covers Dongshan from Xishan.Shanqing is just a thin line on the infinite whole, and the car is a small point on the line with thousands of twists and turns.But it is also a small life in the meantime, and it is also full of various wait-and-sees in the world. No matter where the car goes, the strange thing is that the terraced fields can always keep up. The Chinese are incredible, they just treat the peaks and valleys as flat land to cultivate. I would like to give the terraced fields a name - "layers of fragrance", to put it more clearly, it is the fragrance of layers of rice and layers of sweat. Baling is the terminus of the Highway Bureau station. Like all the mountain line terminal stations of big buses, there is an indescribable little prosperity and a little loneliness in between - an inn, a villa, a ticket booth that sells shredded pork noodles and pork head meat, almost A product store in the mountain, a few families, a small flower garden intentionally or unintentionally, when the car came, there was a burst of dust, and then fell silent. The terminal of the bus is the starting point of the taxi. There is still a three-hour journey to Baling. I booked a car. The driver is Mr. Hu, a Tayal native. Baling is deeper in the mountains. In fact, the taxis in the mountains are not metered, and even the meter is saved.When driving on mountain roads, the car wears out a lot, and one person or several people usually rent a car together.Of course the price is more expensive than a metered taxi, but of course taking a car is much more humane than taking a sliding pole or a sedan chair. I like to see others sitting on an equal footing with me. I sit in the front seat with the driver. The etiquette of a civilized society is unnecessary here. I choose the front seat because it is convenient for conversation and easy to see the mountains and rivers. Although I rented the car alone, he always stopped to carry people along the way. Sometimes it was a child rushing from the small road—that was the fifth child of his family, and sometimes he took a female worker who was doing work. Sometimes he was enthusiastic shouted: "Hey, let me bring you the food!" Many people get on and off the car, and many things are moved on and off. I feel very happy to see him carrying people and goods confidently without even asking. "This is my house!" he said, jumping out of the car and talking loudly to his wife. sky!Nice western bungalow. He told me that it was the hostel he was building. He told me that their land was worth 31,000 ping. "If you come in April and the apple blossoms bloom, hum! . . . " This man always reminds me of modern poetry when he speaks. "We mountain people don't drink boiled water - just pick up the water in the mountains and drink it!" "Hey, this kind of grass is called 'Mum Sang', we used to eat raw meat and eat it if our stomach hurts "Stop, stop." This time I called to stop, I carefully looked at the grass, the sharp leaves with jagged edges, all over the mountains and plains, from one foot to one person's height, with hidden small yellow flowers blooming on the top, smelling Very fragrant. I picked a handful and tore off a leaf about the size of my middle finger and started chewing, man!It was bitter as hell, but I was determined to at least eat that one leaf, and it took me three and a half hours to finish that one leaf. "Is that a hibiscus flower?" I once planted a kind of hibiscus flower, which was white when it first bloomed, turned pink when it bloomed, and finally turned into a miserable red. I think those by the roadside should be wild hibiscus. "There are so many flowers in the mountains, who knew?" The car was bouncing forward on the bumpy road.I don't hate this kind of road - because I hate the boringness of being transported all the way to the scenic station by the straight and smooth road. Back then, when Confucius was riding a car, he would "rely on the car" when he met people. I walked all the way, and I was infinitely happy to go to all the flowers, all the butterflies, all the birds and the unknown berries on the ground. Congratulations." "So far, the car won't be able to drive," the driver said, "I'll pick you up in the afternoon." I am finally alone. Come alone to face the oracle of Shanshui. How many mountains can a piece of land raise?How many trees can a mountain grow?How many birds can be hidden in a tree?How many secrets can a bird song tactfully reveal? The birdsong is a strange kind of music—the more the birds sing, the deeper and still the mountains become. Flowing clouds hurried through the gaps in the trees—the clouds are the messengers of the mountains—I was actually the one who was idle. "Hello!" I sat under the tree, called Yun, learned from Confucius, and asked him happily, "Have you learned poetry yet?" I'm not thirsty, in the new coolness of the mountains in November, but I still can't help but stop and take a sip every time I see a mountain spring.In the early morning after the rain, the mountains were full of the sound of water, and when I stepped into the cold spring, I felt that I was also a piece of ice in the jade pot.And where is the world?When I intervene, how many lives in the world of mortals?How many people died?How many people have come to a complete realization of their disgruntled desires? Cutting water as clothes, fighting mountains as a bowl, who can give the mantle of mountains and rivers?Knocking on the mountain makes the bell ring, strokes the water to make the strings of the zither, who knows the voiceless sound of the mountains and rivers?Mountains are pictures of twists and turns, and water is beautiful palindrome poems that can be read upstream or downstream. Who will take charge of the poetry of mountains and rivers? Looking down at the deep stream at my feet, the waves are churning, and I think the waves are an accident of water, a passion stirred up by accident.But when I went beyond that, I suddenly discovered otherwise. It should be said that water is a kind of accident of waves, and advection water is the tranquility of waves when they occasionally rest. The same island also has mountains. I don’t know why, but the mountains in Hong Kong do not have the charm of the country with clouds and fog, morning mist and sunset, and thousands of layers of mountains and thousands of waters. The scenery can't be said to be bad, it's just that it can be seen at a glance, but it's so unaccustomed. For a Chinese, haze is the breath of the mountain, and Lala Mountain is taking a deep breath of Xu Shu. When we were young, the teacher called names, and we raised our hands one by one and said: "exist!" When I came to Lala Mountain, the mountain was there. When I visit the water, the water is there. Also, everything is a mountain, and there are also years. Turning a corner, Shenmu is there, at an altitude of 1,800 meters, between Lala Mountain and Taman Mountain. I. He is here, I am here, we are looking at each other. I remembered that I asked the driver on the road just now: "It is said that Shenmu was discovered by a professor. Did you know before he discovered it?" "Huh, we've known it all along, since we were kids, everybody knows it! It's been there!" To be found, or not to be found, to be named, or not to be named, to be known by an Atayal mountain kid, or to be known by a forest department professor, it's there anyway. The mood is both excited and calm, excited because of its huge majesty beyond imagination.Calm, because I feel that this is an unborn emerald mine, which needs to be excavated with an elevation angle. A few log chairs were nailed by the roadside, covered with moss, and wild ferns protruding from the cracked scars of the planks. Who sat on this chair and left a moss scar on it?Is it the passer-by called "Sitong"? Further on, there is a taller sacred tree called Fuxing No. 2. If you go further, there will still be Shenmu, if you continue, there will be more.This is where the Shenmu family lived. It's eleven o'clock, and the autumn mountain is actually scorching hot at this moment. I lie under the Fuxing No. 2, thinking of the legend of the Tang Dynasty. The bearded man lay without any evil thoughts and looked at the long hair of the red-haired girl combing the floor. The scene is really gorgeous .At this moment, I also lie down and watch the big tree combing its hair full of black hair in the wind. The difference is that I also have gorgeous hair and green temples, facing the giant tree in green. When people walk under Fuxing No. 1, they suddenly feel sad. This is the tree with the widest chest, standing upright on the hillside with nothing to support, and it seems to have been struck by lightning. The forked part is alive. How can a tree contain both the depth of death and the joy of life! Sitting on the root of the tree, I was amazed at the many branches and branches pillowed on the moon and covered with clouds. Suddenly, a drop of water hit my head like a drink.Is there a dew plate among the branches that Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty liked? Really, I asked myself, why come to Shenmu?In terms of livelihood, Shenmu is certainly not as good as guava, nor is it as good as rice and wheat. We want rice, we want wheat, we want guava, but, to our surprise, we do want one or many godwoods too. We need an image to draw ourselves to ourselves, and we need a myth to tell ourselves to ourselves: the sincerity and affection that will never change for thousands of years, the calm and solemnity that has been through the wind and frost... tree in.The mountains are here.The earth is here.The years are here.I am here.How else can you make the world better? I am used to hearing "Natural selection, survival of the fittest", which makes people feel tense, as if they are in the middle of the fittest, and it seems that the list of suitable survivors is about to be announced, and we can survive even ourselves. The rights are beginning to be doubted. But in the mountains, every creature lives with dignity, huge and long like a sacred tree, mysterious and noble like a ganoderma lucidum, tiny like a fungus the size of a sesame seed on a rock, beautiful like a butterfly, ugly like a small lizard, weird like gold Dog hair, weak as creeping vines, and all kinds of unknown species, life is so kind and fair. Even inanimate things exist harmoniously, the soil has the nobility of the earth, and the stone has the dignity of the stone, and the corpses that have fallen to the ground and no one to support them allow mushrooms, ferns, thistles, and fungus to crawl all over them, You can't help but feel that the tree corpse is actually another kind of earth, which has been revived green and verdant on those little things because it accommodates the differences. There is plenty to spare in life. Suddenly, I heard voices, and Mr. Hu came to pick me up. "Right up there," he cried, pointing to the ledge above his head, "my father beat three bears!" I'm a little angry, why didn't you tell me earlier?He was probably afraid of scaring me. In fact, if I knew in advance that I was walking on a road infested by big black bears, I would have been ten times more excited.Pity! "Is the bear meat delicious?" "It's not tasty, it's too fat." He picked a handful of weeds and threw them away. He doesn't miss the passing years. What he really cares about is his car, his children, and the hotel he planned . Shanfeng talked to me for a day, and Ye Shui talked to me for a day, and I was tired.On the way back from the Highway Bureau car, I looked down at the extremely deep mountain stream through the window, thinking about where to borrow a long ladle, maybe as long as a long ladle of the constellation constellation, and scooped up a ladle of clear water. Cold spring water. There are people hanging bamboo on slings from mountain to mountain, and I kind of like making that bamboo. Back to Fuxing, Fuxing is between the four mountains, and the four mountains are surrounded by golden clouds. In the early morning, I walked to the suspension bridge along the path next to Fuxing Villa. The suspension bridge hangs between the two mountains, not reaching the sky, not reaching the ground, not connecting to the water-the suspension bridge is so beautiful.When I walked the suspension bridge, I had a kind of joy of being in awe. I could see the mountains in my eyes and hear the wind in my ears. how nice! I got off the suspension bridge and walked towards the ferry. In the future of Zhouzi, a peasant woman was watering peas in the field. The pea flowers were lavender, delicate and beautiful. The sound of the threshing machine came from nowhere, and I was moved. It was a modern spring rice song. I will wait for a boat to take me along the waterway to Shimen via Amuping, and I will sit on a rock and wait. The crows were squawking on the rocks. I remember one year when I met director Wang Xinglei’s assistant in Hong Kong, he asked me nonchalantly, “Are there any crows in Taiwan?” They later went to India to get crows. I didn't expect that there are so many crows in the mountains. The crow's voice is straight and hoarse, not tactful and fluent at all. It can only call simply and directly: "Ga Yi Yi" But after savoring it carefully, there is also a feeling of grief directly expressed in the heart, as if there is too much to say, and the panic is so extreme that there is only a long ooh! The crow's wings are pure black, huge, luxurious and dazzling. The boat came, but I was the only passenger, and the boatman sat on the bow waiting for others. I sit at the stern, and I am in charge of inviting the gentle wind, the beautiful sun, the shadow of a passing cloud, and the green smoke between the banks. No one else came, and the boatman remained seated.Two hours passed. I thought I had invited enough guests and the boat was full, so I paid everyone's fare and urged him to sail.He finally said yes. The mountains are piled up from all sides, one after another, they are like green petals—not the one with single petals, but the one with double petals—when you walk in the water, you will suddenly feel like stamens, that kind of soft green petals. , growing stamens, you feel your own dignity and fragrance, and you actually feel that you are the one who can "build a heart for the world" as Zhang Hengqu said. It's not that heaven and earth need us to set our hearts on it, but because of the kindness of heaven and earth, he bent down and hugged us, and just put it in the position of our heart.Mountains and rivers are flowers, and heaven and earth are bigger flowers, so we stand upright as stamens. Looking back at the mountains, what a solid paperweight, we will cherish it, and we will write our history on this piece of paper.