Leaf Scattering Collection

Author: Shu Yun
Publisher:
Publication Date: 1987-12-01
Features: Some people are still alive, but their works have already died. In the past, there were also times when I scribbled aimlessly, but they were all washed away by the tide of history. I picked up the brush again, putting down the hoe I had held for over twenty years, and it was after I had over the storm of the unprecedented human catastrophe in history. At that time, my mood was just as expressed in the two quatrains of "Reflections on the End of the Year":
"Having broken my word for two decades,
I have sinned against the heart's desire;
To cast off the net, I first heard confusion,
Do not marvel at the cock's crowing in the snow—
I know that the shortest day is forcing spring's return."
"Like the banana and deer, do not be surprised,
When I tried to stop the horse, my wishes were not fulfilled.
Hoping for a clear river, I am already old,
Driving without stopping, urging the slow donkey!"
Indeed, from strength to old age, and from old age to decline, it seems like a blink of an eye. In these years, I have been confined to my bed due to illness, regretting "the elegance of youth fading like a crane," and can only entrust "the worries of old age to scribbling." Since the spring of 1979, when my illness first began, I started practicing writing and have written a few pieces of text. A significant portion of them were published in the Ta Kung Pao or other Hong Kong publications, with one-third of the pieces being unpublished manuscripts. Some friends who read my writings, spanning from ancient to modern times and across vast horizons, truly thought that I understood "all eighteen martial arts." In reality, this is "judging by appearance and losing the essence of Ziyu." A true scholar must be guided by passion and specialize to achieve meaningful contributions and gains. My illness stems from my overly broad interests in things, yet I often fail to detach myself from the twists and turns of the world and remain indifferent, which has inevitably led me, this mortal, into the net of karma.
Old people must prevent their thoughts from becoming rigid; it is best to constantly engage with new things, seek multiple perspectives on the unfamiliar world they do not understand, and let a strong desire for knowledge spark a vibrant sense of life, thereby broadening their spiritual horizons. Perhaps this is why I am fond of new things but only sample them superficially; it is also the reason why I have managed to survive the long and arduous journey. In five years, I have written only a little (excluding two old pieces), which is quite pitiful. Moreover, the content of the texts is so diverse. Now, I have gathered these scattered leaves and compiled them into a book, handing them over for publication. Before the invention of modern printing technology, the ancients called this "disaster befalling the." Since the Shuen Lien Book Company has been kind enough to publish this, I also hope to leave something for my dear friends in my twilight years; one is willing to strike, and the other is willing to take the blow, and that is enough. What I am most anxious about is that I may inadvertently burden the readers who buy the book, wasting their precious time.
A friend pointed to a few articles in the collection and asked me, "On a bright autumn day, even a few fallen leaves on the ground can dampen the mood. If all the unpleasant leaves are swept away, it would only highlight the crisp autumn air. Is the title of your collection meant to convey this?" I was suddenly at a loss for words, realizing that the suggestion was spot on. I should also specially thank Comrade Shu Wu for taking the time to review the manuscript and offering many valuable suggestions, despite his busy schedule and poor health. Comrade Shu Wu's serious attitude in writing the preface for this book is something I deeply admire, though some of the praise is too generous for me to accept. Nevertheless, I will take it as encouragement and motivation.