Life Exchange

Author: Yuan Jixi
Publisher:
Publish Date: 1999-05-01
Features: Amidst the hustle and bustle of the city, amidst the chaotic flow of traffic and crowds, can you still close your eyes and enjoy a moment of tranquil thought? The poet says, enough, let me enjoy silence! Amidst the clamor of fashion, amidst the flickering of the dazzling neon lights, where is the path through the woods where one can walk alone? The philosopher says, in the misty haze of the forest, there is always a faint poetry that bubbles up. We live, we run so laboriously in this world; we must live, restless, busy, tired, and exhausted. Yet our babies still cry passionately as they enter the world, and our grandmothers still pickle winter vegetables for the children. Last night, I was so weary, exhausted, frustrated, and even utterly disheartened. But in the morning, I wiped my face and still had to drive forward, hurrying on my way. Through the car window, I occasionally glimpsed the wild fennel by the roadside, flourishing wildly. I remembered the poem I wrote when I was young: I carried the thick nostalgia of my hometown, searching from south to north, looking for the dream of the poet-seekers. I truly wanted to burn all my poems, pick up the ox-horn horn, and walk deeper into the wilderness. That was an eternal plea from youth. "In a time of poverty, what is the role of the poet?" We must always find meaning for our living, we must always name our bustling. We will inevitably run aimlessly along the path of meaning and significance, searching through the rubble of time for flintstones. In this poetryless age, I stubbornly seek poetry. The burden of civilization is so heavy; I am fond of the path through the woods, fond of art. The essence of art is poetry, and the essence of poetry is the sincere dance of life. Yet the thought of existence is always abandoned, and the poetic nature of thought is always hidden. To dwell poetically? Is this a prophecy, or a curse? I stubbornly question this worn-out, fashionable, and smooth adornment. Man, dwell poetically! I still chose it with great difficulty. Therefore, I invited teachers and friends to come together for a distant journey of thought, letting the faint threads of thought drift aimlessly among the clouds and the sea. Thought always arrives suddenly—whose wonder can touch it? Thus, this series of "Rhythms of the Sea of People" Art and Culture Essays was born.