Chapter 43 Acoustic - 1

But when we are confined to books, albeit the most selected, classical works, and to a particular language, which are themselves only colloquial languages ​​and dialects, then we are in danger of forgetting the other Chinese is the most abundant and standard language in which all things can be spoken directly without metaphor.There are many publications, but very few of them are printed.The light that streams in through the chinks in the shutters is no longer remembered when the shutters are fully opened.No one method, no one discipline, can replace the necessity of perpetual alertness.What can be seen should be seen frequently; how can such a law be compared with a history or philosophy, or poetry no matter how well chosen?How can it be compared with the best society or the most enviable law of life?Would you rather be just a reader, a student, or a seer?Read your own destiny, see what is right in front of you, and walk into the future.

The first summer, I didn't read; I planted beans.No, I'm better than doing this.There are times when I cannot afford to sacrifice the good moments of my present to any work, whether of the head or the hands.I love to give my life more leeway.Sometimes, on a summer morning, after my usual bath, I sat in front of my door in the sun from sunrise to noon, among the pines, hickories, and sumacs, in undisturbed solitude and In silence, deep in contemplation, while birds sing about, or fly silently past my house, till the sun shines on my west window, or some traveler's wagon rattles on the distant highway The rumble, reminding me of the passing of time.I grow in seasons like corn at night, which is infinitely better than any hand labor.In doing so, instead of subtracting time from my life, it added a lot to my usual time, and overproduced it.I understand the so-called contemplation of the Orientals and the meaning of putting aside work.In general, wasted years, I don't care.Since the day advances, as if only to light some work of mine; but it was only dawn, and lo and behold, it is night now, and I have done nothing memorable.I didn't sing like a songbird either, I just smiled quietly and laughed at my own happiness.As the sparrow, sitting in the hickory tree before my door, chirped, so I snickered, or suppressed my chirping, lest it might hear it from my nest.My day is not a day of the week, it is not named after any pagan god, nor is it chopped into hours, nor disturbed by the ticking of bells; for I like to be like India The Puri people, for whom it is said, "the same word represents yesterday, today, and tomorrow, but when they express different meanings, they make gestures while saying the word, and the one behind the finger counts yesterday, and the one in front of the finger counts tomorrow." The finger on the head is today." In the eyes of my fellow citizens, this is pure laziness; but if I were judged by the standard of birds and flowers, I think I have no faults.It is quite true that man must find reasons within himself.Nature's day is peaceful, and she doesn't reproach him with indolence.

My way of life has at least this advantage over those who have to go out for entertainment, society, or the theater, because my life is entertainment itself, and it is always new.It's a multi-act play, and there's no final act.If we were always able to live and manage our lives in reference to the latest and greatest way we have learned, we would never be troubled by boredom.Just keep in touch with your creativity, which can point you to a new prospect every hour.Chores are enjoyable pastimes.When my floor is dirty I get up early and move all my furniture out on the grass outside the door, beds and bedsteads piled up in a heap, and just sprinkle the floor with water and the white sand of the lake, Then with a broom, scrape the floor clean and white: By the time the folks have finished their breakfast, the sun has dried my house enough to move back in; and my meditations have hardly been interrupted .It was pleasant to see all the furniture of my house in a little heap on the grass, like a Gypsy's luggage, and my three-legged table under the pine and hickory trees, with the I didn't take away the book, pen and ink.They seem to be very willing to go outside, but also seem to be very reluctant to be moved back inside.Sometimes I'd be tempted to pitch a tent over them, and there I would be.The sun shining on them is a sight worth seeing, the wind blowing them is a sound worth hearing, and familiar things are much more interesting to see outdoors than indoors.Birds sat on the next twig, everlastingsweed grew under the table, and blackberry vines clung to the foot of it;Their form seems to have thus been transformed into furniture, into tables, chairs, bedsteads,--because the furniture once stood between them.