Listen to the autumn language

I do not know, why I stood on the shore of the season for so long, there seems to be an expectation, a thirst so that I can not let go for a long time.

The air is filled with the aroma of a moist and refreshing belly, as if rain has opened the curtain of autumn, and as if a wind has brought the news of autumn. The hot summer, like a naughty child, gradually got tired and gradually slipped away silently.

The windows in the streets are filled with newly listed autumn dresses, fashionable women have already put on their long boots, and the seasons are beginning to change. Autumn, it seems, has already packed its bags and is coming to me surreptitiously.

Does the season have a voice? I never listened to it with my heart, I just used to perceive the change of seasons from the windows of the streets.

I don't know with what kind of sound, autumn, their bodies, gradually spread out between heaven and earth, I also did not see with what kind of posture, autumn is suddenly elegantly climbing all over the hillside.

A friend said that he often went to listen to the mountains in his spare time. I was suddenly struck by his words. "Listening to the mountains" is such a beautiful word. I can imagine his mood and state of mind when listening to the mountains.

I often go hiking, but I have never listened to the mountains. Can mountains talk? Do mountains have a language? If so, can we also find the language of autumn in a way of listening?

I can't imagine how I can hear the changing footsteps of the seasons while standing among the tall buildings of the city. The city, which can only see the flow of the seasons, cannot sense the vibrant pulse of the seasons. The dense crowd, the tall buildings, the land where no trees grow, the flowers that bloom and fall, the grass that blooms and declines, and the inability to listen to the whispers of the seasons.

When I was a child, I read Junqing's essay "Autumn Color Fugue" and had a beautiful longing for autumn. At that time, I didn't know how beautiful the autumn colors in the countryside were, but I couldn't help but follow the descriptions in the books, and step by step, I outlined in my mind the scenes of the autumn harvest, imagining that autumn was a happy, joyful, and satisfying season.

After growing up, I read ancient poems, which are full of sadness and desolation for autumn. "Whose autumn yard is free of wind? Where is there no sound of rain in the window in autumn? The burial bed can't help the force of the autumn wind, and the sound of the autumn rain is urgent." "The autumn flowers are miserable, the grass is yellow, and the autumn night is long. Already feel the autumn window autumn not end, that can not help the wind and rain bleak!". This is a very important part of the process. So, they learned to all the sadness and loss, are associated with the season, as if autumn is the root of all the unhappiness and melancholy.

These days, I finally have the opportunity to go into the deep mountains again and again in autumn. I set my heart in the autumn breeze, I hung my ears on the treetops, I wanted to listen to the mountains more truly, to listen to the autumn language.

I walked in the mountains with a reverent posture, I gathered all the information about autumn. The flowing streams in the river ditches, the yellow chrysanthemums flourishing in the grass, the backs of those plowing between the ridges, the shy eyes behind the wheat stacks, the corn stalks on the eaves, and the persimmon trees in the wilderness, all seem to tell me in a voice that autumn, with such a vigorous upward force, exists in a real and poetic way.

There may be times when the leaves fall, but that is just a prelude to the change of seasons. After autumn has given the earth the most abundant fruits, she will also be sadly retired. There is no permanent glorious performance, after the exit will be waiting for the next more glorious appearance. Autumn has no regrets, Autumn does not retreat, she just goes behind the scenes and brews a bigger harvest.

The season walks through time, and she does not rejoice or mourn over how much sunlight she has given herself. The season will never care about people's eyes, she always stubbornly according to their own feet, in the road they should take, the wind and rain, the sun is bright, can not shake the season's unchanging direction.

When can we learn not to be happy for spring, not to be sad for autumn, when we can learn to face all the days happily, not for the bumps and difficulties and shake our steps forward? Then we will be able to listen to the sound of each season's flowering with a calm heart.

Standing at the edge of the cliff, I listened quietly. Listen, sometimes do not need to speak, no language, silent in a kind of integration and understanding, but also the most realistic listening. We are accustomed to communicating with words and language, but not accustomed to experiencing in the silence of the heart. Nature and the seasons are always talking to us, but we don't listen to them with our hearts.

This morning, standing in the sunshine, I heard the sound of autumn.