When I was a teenager, I had two fears about what happened after I became an adult. One is to become a middle-aged man with a bald and big belly on the podium, talking to the crowd. When I was attending lectures in the first year of college, I often witnessed such scenes. I stood in the crowd and looked at the excited young faces next to me. I felt everything was incredible. I don’t think it’s a lecture. It’s always the ingenious compliments of young people and the inexplicable promise of prospects that arouse enthusiasm. In short, it seems to me to be some verbal skills that have nothing to do with knowledge, insight and wisdom.
Another fear comes from my observation of life. I find that adults often say repeated things, and the older it is, the easier it is. They may have said the same thing to you a few days ago, and expressed it with the same logic and the same expression. But a few days later, they seemed to have forgotten to have such a conversation, with the same expression and interest as the last time, repeat it to you again, and hope that you will have the same reaction as the last time. At this time, as a young man, you have to maintain a decent attitude, but you can’t help but look through the other person’s eyes, wanting to see exactly what the structure of the other person’s skull deep is, a chaotic nebula, or a An infinitely circular circle? And it is inevitable to think: the same human being, why is he so different from me?
Under different representations, the same reason is hidden. Even a teenager may have been aware of the decaying breath hidden in the adult world long ago. These two things make me feel scared because of the aging that cannot be concealed underneath. When a person starts to age, it is not just a change in skin. Long before that day came, his spiritual world had already begun to decline. An ambitious speaker will not be keen on conquering naive and ignorant teenagers; a courageous writer will not indulge in the boundaries of existing knowledge and ideas. The defender always patrols parallel to the border, but the attacker always protrudes perpendicular to the border.
Whenever I look around my contemporaries and see them camping, I sometimes envy them and feel that they have to be based on it, which is a good choice. But look at them no longer moving forward, and there will be a greater fear, far more than the fear of a land without a cone. I suspect that nothing in my life has grown old on the deck chair under the vine rack of the small courtyard, or that such luck is not for everyone. Some are uninterrupted trekking, non-stop departure, if the world is an opaque black map, all one can do is to try to brighten a small circle. Although compared to the total area of the map, it is only a trivial point, but the behavior of probing is meaningful in itself. It competes with the aging that constantly erodes itself, and strives to stimulate interest in life and life. . At the end of life, maybe a little different self will live out.
There is a sentence in “The Analects of Confucius”: “He is also a person, he is angry and forgets food, he is happy to forget his worries, and I don’t know the old man to Yun’er.” I used to think that this is a very easy thing to do, whether it is reading, watching movies or Playing games has already reached such a level. But now I feel that I can do the second half of the sentence very well, let alone forget about food and worry. In fact, I think that ignorance of old age is already a happy life. At least one person has a reason to move on, and he knows his amazing ignorance, and he is full of curiosity about the world like a child. What better life is there?