A Night of Contemplation: On the Passage of Time, Living Through Art, and Finding Eternity

  As one year old approaches, he enters an atmosphere unique to this place. I am busy running around on weekdays, and I only feel that time is tight, and it is difficult to feel the existence of “time”. Time belongs to reality, and time belongs to life. However, at the end of the year, the feeling of time suddenly appeared. It is short, limited, and impatient. You chase it from behind, but you can never catch its fluttering sleeves. It flies towards the end of the year. When you really transcend it, the year has passed, and that large area of ​​time will remain in the past.
  There was a sudden power outage tonight, so I lit candles in the dark. The candlelight is like a bright flower bud, floating peacefully in the dark space; there is no wind in the room, and the light flower bud is exceptionally elegant and beautiful; a little light spreads out, vaguely outlining the surrounding things. Without electricity, there would be no music to accompany me, but I have a better companion than music – thinking.
  But the people who have the most understanding of life are not thinkers, but the general public. For example, in popular saying, the days approaching the end of the year are called “Nian Gen’er”. How real and vivid! It makes us suddenly realize that a tree that was originally green and full of years has been exhausted by us, leaving only a little foundation. Time is so tight, tight and intense…
  all of a sudden the images of all the things I have experienced in the past year are all overlapping and piled up in front of my eyes. No matter how complicated, difficult, helpless and unexpected these things are, I want to find my own footprints in them. From retreating to Kyoto, where the flowers are falling in spring, to the ruins of Delphi in Athens, which is drizzled and empty in winter; from one activity to another, which traces are still clear to this day, and which traces are mixed and blurred or even wiped clean by time. And go?
  I stared at the heavy black shadows in front of me and looked hard. Just at the end of the candlelight, I suddenly saw a pair of eyes looking directly at me. His eyes were cold and sharp, staring closely at him. This was originally a wooden statue of the Northern Song Dynasty King that I placed there. However, its gaze became particularly powerful at this moment. How could it pass through the thick fog of the night and pass through eight hundred years, looking at anyone who dared to look at it with an unstoppable and tortured look? Obviously, it is due to the vivid ability and extraordinary talent of the unknown folk carver eight hundred years ago; he also injected a masculine and righteous spirit into it. Nowadays, the unknown carver has long disappeared, but his shocking life spirit has been preserved.
  Here, doesn’t time never pass?
  The plant dies and leaves its life in the seeds; the poet leaves and leaves his life in the verses.
  For people, time is actually the process of life. When life comes to an end, it does not necessarily disappear without trace. Sometimes it will transform into another form of existence or rebirth. Doesn’t the transformation of the lives of mother and child continue to the entire human race? Recreating life is the greatest miracle of life. Among them, artists should be the happiest ones.
  At this moment, my eyes are shining, my vision is wide, and all the art treasures in the room are revealed bit by bit. They were not illuminated by candlelight, but summoned by my suddenly awakened mind.
  In fact, my clearest and most profound footprints should be the two shallow pits made by my own feet on the cement floor under the desk. Only when my time is settled here will it not disappear, but be transformed by me into unique and vivid lives, as well as lines of words that will never fade. The life of an artist is measured by the life of his art. Every artist has the possibility to achieve eternity, and the only thing he can give up is himself. Yes or no?
  Suddenly, the electricity came, the lights were bright, everything was bright, as if the world had changed. The vast and profound world of thought just now disappeared, and only the candle flame burned empty, which seemed redundant. Looking at the statue of the Heavenly King from the Song Dynasty, it seems to have changed its look in the light, and is no longer so aggressive.
  I don’t have to answer it because I’ve already answered myself.

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