I am no stranger to bugs. When I was young, I saw all kinds of bugs in the vegetable garden and forest. The green and soft caterpillars that like to hang on the poplar branches, the flower elder sister with a beautiful shell who loves to fly around in the vegetable garden, and the plump white bugs that are pampered in the crevices of the trees, have brought me a lot of fun. .
I used a branch to pick up a green caterpillar to frighten children younger than me; I once caught Sister Flower in the vegetable garden and put it in a transparent glass bottle to see its golden red color mixed with black lines.” Coat”; I once digged a bug in a tree, threw it into the fire, and tasted its taste-thinking of what woodpeckers like to eat, it must be very sweet. As for the ants crawling on the road and in the fields, I have no scruples about them. If I want to trample one to death, I will trample one to death, as if insects are the lowest creatures in nature, and trampling them is justified.
After adulthood, I stopped playing pranks on bugs, not because I had a special pity for them, but because I gradually forgot them. At this time, I noticed the birds, the flowing clouds, the century-old trees towering into the clouds, the wild geese in the lake, and the rabbits running away on the white snow in the forest. Insects are like dust, deeply buried by these things.
However, during the Spring Festival last year, I was deeply shocked by a bug. This year, I have never forgotten it. It is like a lamp, sending a ray of bright light in the darkest moment of my mood. Now when I write the above words, when I want to describe it, I seem to see its vigorous figure-although it is so small; and it seems to hear the sound of the mountain whistling and tsunami when it is dropped. ——Although there is no sound at all.
Last year in my hometown, on the first day of the first lunar month, I returned to my home after New Year’s Eve from my brother’s home. Pushing open the door, seeing that the furnishings are still the old furnishings, the cuckoos are still blooming as before, and the snow-capped mountains and grassy beaches outside the window are also bathed in the cold winter sun as always. This scene of nonsense makes me feel exceptionally desolate. I stood alone in front of the window of the house and refused to leave for a long time. I want my gaze to accompany those flowing clouds, because they are erratic and sometimes missing, which is in line with my blurred mentality.
A phone call made me look indoors again. After answering the phone, I put three sticks of incense on the Bodhisattva enshrined in the hall, and then sat on the floor, smelling the fragrance of sandalwood, and staring blankly at the bright creamy-yellow floor. The floor is clean, no debris and dust can be seen. Suddenly, a small black spot appeared in my vision. At first I thought it was the pom-pom crumbs scattered from the black sweater I was wearing, but the small black spot gradually moved towards the side of the altar, and I realized it might It’s a bug.
It really is a bug! I don’t know where it came from. It is smaller than an ant. It is black all over, shaped like a tortoise, with many fine tentacles, and a black shell in the shape of a pot lid on its back, which is pitch black. It climbed up in various poses, walked sideways for a while, and walked upright for a while, as if the floor was its stage, and it was dancing colorful dances on it. When it quickly reached the Buddhist altar, it stopped. It seemed to smell a strange fragrance, and it seemed particularly curious. It stopped, as if a general commanding thousands of troops was brewing some major decision. Sure enough, when it did it again, it was not so reckless. It marched toward the Buddhist altar without any advancement. In a blink of an eye, soldiers were already approaching the city, standing majestically on the junction of the Buddhist altar and the floor.
I thought it would just retreat. Unexpectedly, it just stopped slightly at the junction and crawled towards the tall Buddhist niche. Crawling on a flat surface, it is so handy, but crawling toward the right-angled Buddhist niche, its entire body is suspended in the air, and the Buddhist niche is oiled with bright dark red paint, which is not conducive to its climbing. Planted a caterpillar. Its initial fall made me laugh secretly, thinking that it would definitely turn around and leave after it tasted bitterness. However, after it straightened its body, it once again climbed towards the Buddhist altar. This time it climbed higher than the last time, so when it fell, it was heavier than the first time. It struggled with all fours on the floor before turning over. I thought it would learn its lesson, and turned around. Who expected it to choose to climb again after regrouping!
The incense on the Buddhist altar was half burned, and under its scent, a nameless black-shelled insect continued its journey time and time again. It crawled unyieldingly, and was thrown down again and again; but it was not afraid of pain, and it was still fighting for its goal. Once, it had climbed two feet to a height, but eventually it fell off. It rolled on the floor and couldn’t turn over for a long time; its tentacles trembled like weeds blown by the wind. I stretched out a finger, gently turned it over, and pushed it farther away from the altar. It looked very angry, because after being pushed to a new place, it walked all the way to the Buddha’s niche.
This time there was hallucination in my ears. I clearly heard the sound of galloping horses and the loud horn; I saw a great warrior, a small hero with a great dream. It climbed up to the niche again, perhaps because of exhaustion, it climbed not as high as before, and soon fell down again. I dare not look at this bug anymore, I feel ashamed that it is more tenacious than it. When it staggered and crawled towards the altar again, I left the hall. I think God is not thin to me, so that I can see the most magnificent history of poetry in an instant.
A few days later, I found a dead bug in the corner under the altar. It is black and shiny, and looks very thin. I don’t know if it is the bug I saw. Its tentacles are broken, but the black shell on its back is still so bright. Under the monotonous and impoverished white sky, this gleaming black is light!
