Appreciation of the beautiful text | Middle -aged mood author: Xi Murong Reading: Wang Hui

Tonight, under my light, I finally felt a middle -aged mood.

This is a kind of complex, simple, sad but happy, helpless but not complaining.

This is a mood I have never knew completely.

01

At that time, more than ten years ago, when the ship stopped at the last stop of the journey. When I went ashore in the Port of Marseille in France, the world had greeted me with a glorious look!

I, a little graduate of the art department, and a young oriental woman, what kind of enthusiasm is the heart of the pilgrimage, in the gallery of the museum and the art museum, look at it one by one, Every corner refuses to let go.

In school, every time you take the exam, every competition, you will use a kind of strength to fight for a hundred times more than usual, and you will not get the first vow. In the cold late night, in the humble studio rented by the center of Brussels, I seemed to have a martyr's mood.

At that time, my surroundings were full of beautiful things, and each of them had a different light. Each of I loved, I wanted it, and I must get it.

And more than ten years have passed. Just this summer, I went to New York and Chicago. In the Metropolitan Museum in New York, I had a different mood. The frame hanging on the wall still makes me love, but I have learned to watch it in another way.

02

I know that this museum has amazing and rich treasures. However, every time I go, I only look at a small area.

I can use a few hours to appreciate Moone's gray -purple water lilies. Before my favorite format, I became very quiet and calm. Running up and down in the museum, longing for everything to see everything, longing to not leak every detail, every corner, I no longer be such a person.

For more than ten years of life, I have different. I already know that the beauty of the world is infinite, but in the end of my life, what I can get is only limited, only a little bit.

Therefore, since this is the case, why can't I enjoy the limited beauty I can see in front of me?

Of course, I know that it is in another building, or in another exhibition room, and even in the partition wall, outside a door, there is the strangeness and beauty I haven't seen yet. Maybe I can see it in one way, one step across, and you can see it as soon as you open the door.

However, I also deeply understood that when I turned around in a hurry, the original one was already in front of me, and the painting in front of my eyes was already quiet. For so many years, I have waited for my coming, and it turned out that I was about to enter my heart immediately, and immediately became the beauty of my future comfort and happiness, and the moment I turned around, I was thrown forever by me forever in me. It's behind.

So I stood up. Perhaps before this gray -purple water lilies, maybe in another museum, in that magical moonlit, the unshakable lion gently sniffing the sleeping scatter of the sleepy sleeping people, I stood quietly Essence

Among the limited I can get, I am willing to be an infinitely enthusiastic audience.

03

Looking at painting in middle -aged, he saw a quiet and self -sufficient mood.

However, "seeing painting" is still a dispensable gain, and on this long road of life, I walked to the middle, and missed it, is it just some of the rare and some beauty?

On the long road of life, there will always be a point of difference. No matter if I choose that direction, there will always be a direction with me to make me regret.

At this moment, on this road I was in, and the wind and Li Ri, my eyes were lush, and I believe that if I chose another direction at the beginning, I would definitely have the same sunshine and the same bird's fragrance.

However, because at that point, I can only choose a road that has been arranged. Therefore, after getting further and further, every time I look back, there will be an inexplicable embarrassment. In my heart, the path that I couldn't take up was there every time, in the blurred color, showing me a fuzzy sadness.

However, the middle -aged mood is not allowed to regret it at will!

So, I constantly enrich myself, exercise myself, and tell myself: I must understand the beauty and miracles of the world, be quiet, content, calm, or regret all my choices, all the separation and separation.

Therefore, cherish the current moment. I think all the days when I hurriedly left behind, I was no longer able to do anything about them.

However, for those who are about to come, to the moment in front of me, I have time to grasp it, and I can wait, hope and operate with my whole heart and full strength.

04

I think, in the future, in the future, I have to treat all the things I cherish.

I thought that as long as I seriously pondered, I could pondering the middle -aged time into a crystal clear jade. As long as I work hard, life can become extremely smooth, pure, and no flaws.

However, I do n’t know that there are fascinating orbits spreading everywhere in my life. Even in middle age, some things are still unable to explore or understand that they ca n’t be controlled. Therefore, I suddenly found that human efforts were also limited. The ideal still exists, but in the end of each night, there will be many small and trivial errors, which will slowly separate my ideals with my ideals.

Looking back at the past, all the memories in life can only become a faded painting, and only I know that in my heart, it was once so clear!

In the face of such a result, I have a faint joy in sadness, like to submit to my own destiny, like time and wave of flushing of life.

And as they said: that's the mood in all my poems.

05

Since printing the poem into a lead, readers who have been knowing or not knowing me have been asking me very directly or very skillfully. They want to know whether this mood in my poem is really false or false of?

And how can I answer them?

Moone's gray -purple water lilies, or all the water lilies he painted: early morning, noon, evening -those huge consecutive work, or those small sketching Woolen cloth?

When he painted, the water lilies in the pool opened just right. Compared with their delicate face, the water lilies on Moone should be just a color without life. However, the painter added what he was willing to stay in his paintings. He hoped that the beauty he stayed, and through the infinite glory changes in the large paragraphs, he drew one blooming life.

This summer, when I was standing in front of his painting, the water lilies in the summer more than 70 years ago had withered and died. Compared with the water lilies in his painting, who is true? Who is virtual? Is that one real? Is that one fake?

Who can answer me?

And the mood of middle age may be a mood that no longer urgently ask for answers?

Perhaps the mood of no longer dodge when misunderstanding, no longer debate, and then stabbed.

There is no grievance, only a simple hope.

I hope that one day I can draw a painting that never fade.

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