My hometown is so long ago that when I was a child, looking at the green hills opposite my house, I felt that it was an ancient mirror of time that could not be seen through. The souls of my ancestors are hidden in the green mountains. Some of them are not my ancestors, but the ancestors of many people. When did they become part of the green mountain? To me, it was just an eternal past, staying there.
In her spare time, my grandma also stared at the green mountains with light in her eyes. Grandma told me that your grandfather was buried on the dragon's tail. Otherwise, how could your father be an official? I was only six or seven years old, and I couldn't understand what grandma said. Later, I went to the city to study, and my grandma followed me there, and she was still talking about the mountain.
Grandma repeatedly said three words: good feng shui. My father, on the other hand, would always smile with a materialist's disdain when his mother talked about this and said, "There's no such thing as feng shui." Grandma gave a few examples: a family whose ancestors were buried in a feng shui place on the mountain, and their descendants became high-ranking officials, or a family that was buried in an inappropriate place, and a prosperous family suddenly declined.
Maybe because I heard my grandma talk too much, I suddenly had a strange idea about the mountains in my hometown. There are many strange caves hidden deep in the mountains, like the fairy caves in the novels about gods and demons. , whichever family is lucky enough to occupy the biggest and best one will be blessed with a high official. Of course, I was ashamed to tell anyone about this ridiculous idea, because the Feng Shui my grandma talked about was so mysterious that I was a little scared. In fact, I was even more afraid of it in my young mind. That mystery contained the strange aura between heaven and earth.
When I grew up, I discovered a problem. The mountains around my hometown were all covered with two words: Feng Shui, as if they were sealed. Seen from a distance, the pale ink-colored mountains are almost the same color as the sky. Mountains are like boats floating in the sea of ??time, foreshadowing to us an unpredictable ups and downs.
Originally, as a young man, I thought Qingshan was so charming. But the Feng Shui that our ancestors have attached to it from generation to generation inexplicably adds a bit of witchcraft to my heart. All I dare to say to myself is that I hate this feeling. Such charming green mountains have been made dirty by Feng Shui for no reason. In particular, there is a mountain on the other side of the river called Tianzi Mountain.
There is a legend attached to Tianzi Mountain, which is naturally passed down orally from generation to generation. It is said that the feng shui of this mountain could have produced an emperor, but it was ruined by an evil-minded person. It must have been the middle of the Qing Dynasty. This man occasionally heard a Feng Shui master talk about a treasure place, so he went home, poisoned his mother to death, and buried her here.
The bad emperor who was supposed to come out died due to violating the laws of heaven, and so on. Of all the folklore in this county, I hate this story about the Bird Emperor the most. It is just like a piece of rag, hanging in the corner of the green mountain. Whenever the rising sun illuminates Tianzi Mountain, I hope that the new colors can drive away this bird legend. Feng shui is not the true nature of my hometown. On the contrary, it makes the hometown in my dream become turbid.
I don’t know from which day I became disrespectful towards my hometown.
In the past, I was very happy when relatives came to the countryside. I liked them to tell interesting stories about the countryside. Later, I saw that they often came to trouble my parents, borrowing money, filing lawsuits, and seeking medical treatment, as if my parents were omnipotent. Anyway, if you have nothing to do, go to the Three Treasures Hall. Especially when borrowing money, there have been many instances of non-repayment. On the contrary, my parents were generous and took it as a favor.
Slowly, I discovered that they have a strong sense of small farmers, such as taking advantage of small things and being short-sighted. My attitude towards them has changed, and sometimes my words are less enthusiastic. My father had always had a deep affection for them. Seeing me acting like this, he severely criticized me for not despising them.
My father said that they suffered too much in the past, so they were timid in character, but they were honest. Of course I think my father is right, but when I see them, I can't help but think of their extreme superstition on Feng Shui, and I always feel unhappy.
The witchy Feng Shui hung over their heads like spells. I occasionally talked about this with my father, and my father once said something that shocked me.
My father said that most of their ancestors lived a miserable and useless life in the past, and were even oppressed by various powerful forces. Their only hope was that their children and grandchildren would be good enough to stand above those powerful people and become superior people. I figured it out in one breath.
It turns out that their good Feng Shui is what makes them successful. For thousands of years, they have not lived like human beings. Being a real human being is what our ancestors have been praying for.
My father understands them very well, because he is one of them.
As I grow older, I feel that the feng shui floating in the mountains of my hometown is not so much superstition as a reverence for fate. As ordinary people, who doesn't respect fate? Princes, generals and ministers would rather struggle like this. It is just a final cry of death and destruction, and ultimately a tragedy.
In recent years, when I went back to my hometown to pay homage during the Qingming Festival, I vaguely saw the attitude of the villagers in reverence for their fate.
In fact, the first thing they fear is the land. The land is so mysterious. The growth, decline and prosperity of all things are all based on this land. No matter how high you fly or how far you go, you will eventually return to it. The so-called Feng Shui is just an illusion, or a daydream, floating among the land. Folks - people who lived more than a hundred years ago, besides believing in the emperor, they also believed in Feng Shui. My hometown has changed in Feng Shui.
Where is the hometown I am attached to? I have been looking far away, lonely, and searching. Perhaps, for a person's short life, hometown is just an illusory longing, an empty and beautiful concern that attracts you to go on.
But in my hometown, which is covered by feng shui, the pale yellow flavor still exists.
This is naturally my inner feeling. I feel like crying over this. It's like a piece of pure gold, but it's coated with a layer of gold water, making it no longer real or fake. Not to mention anything else, just the fact that the grass in my hometown remains green year after year makes me endlessly happy. Grass is the true color of my hometown. It has greened humble life forever since ancient times.
Tang Zong, Song Zu, Qin Emperor and Han Wu all became part of the grass in the end. The grass does not become vain because of this, it is still grass. If the ancestors really have souls hidden in the earth, then I think they are grass. Grass is the blood vessel of the land. If you step on it hard, it will bleed.
My suffering ancestors, you are grass, it is enough that you are still green on the mountains and in the fields.
Every time, when people in my hometown talk about Feng Shui, I immediately think of grass, the overwhelming grass, the warmth, the freshness, to drive away another pale yellow smell. The reason why my hometown never gets old is because there is green grass everywhere!
Perhaps because of age, my father returns to his hometown more often. My father still doesn’t believe in Feng Shui. He may not like this layer of turbidity among the green mountains and green waters deep down. It should be said that my father loves this homeland. It's just that he has too much affection for the people in his hometown, and he doesn't think any of their actions are too much. He didn't want to change them, and he couldn't change them. My father often said that many things will change in line with the development of the times. Let it be.
The father's form has changed slightly. He once stood in front of his ancestor's grave and never bowed down. Now, I also go to heaven and earth to worship my parents. My father's posture of bowing down was quite interesting. He stood so solemnly in front of my grandfather's grave, muttering something to himself, and then slowly squatted down, with his knees lightly touching the ground, straightening his waist, and clasping his hands together. His worship was not standard at all. There were rules for worshiping ancestors, but he had not learned it. His hands barely touched the ground, but he was very pious and bowed several times.
After my father bows, I bow. My feelings are naturally different from my father's. Because my grandfather passed away before I came to this world. Therefore, grandpa is just a specific concept in my mind, or in other words, it is a pure title. It’s my grandma who makes me miss her. I care about my grandma, and she is my other hometown. I feel that grandma has already turned into a green grass with the help of the power of the land.
Maybe I have too deep feelings for my grandma. I would rather believe that she turned into grass than lie in the dark earth. The grass is green every year, how nice it is. If there is true reincarnation of cause and effect, it would be reincarnation around nature and around our hometown.
People turn into grass, and the grass wets the land of their hometown. The land is rich in grains, and the grains nourish people. With such a cycle of reincarnation, the hometown will continue to prosper. This is my ridiculous imagination at best. People in my hometown are busy making a living every day, so how can they have time to think about this?
The last thing they believe in is still fate. Feng shui is a custom map of fate.
My father has been worried that I have forgotten my hometown in recent years. Every year during the Qingming Festival, he comes to the mountain and points to the tombs of my ancestors and tells me that when I am old, if you don’t remember this place, you will not remember this place when you get there. The next generation will forget all about it.
I am speechless. I think, in the next few generations, where will the hometown they look back on be? This is indeed a question. At least, that was a problem for my father and for me. But for our descendants, this may not be the case. Of course their hometown will be wider and broader. That is their business and has little to do with us.
Standing on the mountain of my ancestors, the green grass under my feet stretches towards the horizon along with the mountain. As long as there is green grass growing, there is our hometown. A person's short life is naturally not worth talking about in the universe of time, but as long as we integrate into our hometown, we will no longer be lonely and miserable. Our hometown is our warm thought.
If you don’t even have this thought, then you will truly be in a sea of ??suffering.
Looking back in an instant, I can’t see you in my hometown. I have tears streaming down my face and can’t see the end, and I keep looking at you from afar.
A piece of green grass said to me, my child, the corner where the grass touches the sky and rubs the ground is my blessing to you.