The mind is a flowering tree

The soul is a tree that never grows old. It always looks for the first one in a hundred thousand turns; the soul is a tree that will bloom, and it is always the most true in the thousands of turns.

--Inscription

Time flies like a white pass, stealing our original dream quietly. There is no trace of time, and no one can stop it. The original dream is like the sunshine between the fingers, warm and beautiful, but it can't be grasped; like the snow under the warm sun, it is white and elegant, but it can't last forever; it is also like the water of the palm of the hand, warm and quiet, But can't hold it. Every time I think about it, my heart can’t help but burst into sorrow.

Once upon a time, we were still a child of the innocent under the pulse of Huihui. We are still a girl who smiles like a flower in the Yangliu. We are still the kapok in the spring breeze. We don’t understand the world, we don’t love glitz, we don’t talk about sorrow and joy, only Be the first self in the depths of the flow.

Once upon a time, we woke up the sleeping mind, opened our eyes, and stirred up the embarrassment of the future. We identified a dream and worked tirelessly for it. We did everything we could to get closer to it. However, we finally came to the age of the previous embarrassment, but found that the original dream has long since disappeared. It turned out that when I walked, I forgot, my dreams were light; when I looked at it, I lost it, and the road was not found. I went back and found that my dream was gone, and I began to blame myself...

"When the leisure changes, but the heart of the people, but the heart is easy to change." Perhaps, the soul is a tree that never grows old, we always look for the first one in a hundred thousand turns, perhaps, the first is undeliverable. We recalled the rush of the year, but we had to speed up the pace of progress, and we only got stronger and stronger under the polishing of time.

Tonight, my thoughts are flying. I remembered the original dream and couldn't help but look back at those who used to. However, time has passed, I understand that the initial is not necessarily the most real, the most suitable for myself is the most true. We are growing, we are changing, from the early days to the past, from the enthusiasm to the change, we have experienced too many changes in people and things, witnessed too many sacred fields, gradually, understand.

I understand that the mind is also a tree that will bloom. It is constantly changing. What we want to pick is not necessarily the most beautiful one. It is not necessarily the biggest and most feminine. What we really need is the most suitable for ourselves. of. We should soak in the tears, sprinkle the blood and rain to water and care for the most real tree. Bloom the most true of yourself.

Understanding the dream of childhood is the concern of our whole life, and the dream of childhood is warm. But the mind is a tree that will bloom, three thousand flowers, only one flower, always the most true in the thousands of turns. Therefore, we don't need to feel hurt when we feel it. We don't need to hurt the spring and fall, and we rely on the intersection of time. In the season of the season, we pursue the most real dreams and bloom the most true ones.

I understand how quiet the years are, smile at the rush of the year, look back and think about holding a hug tomorrow. The first dreams of those years are still beautiful in our hearts, we only need to remember those good things. Grasping the present, living in the present is the truth.

The past - remember, now - hard work, the future - better.

The soul is a tree that never grows old. It always looks for the first one in a hundred thousand turns. The soul is also a tree that will bloom. It is always the most true in the thousands of turns. Dear, have you ever felt the same?

[Postscript] In the past, the flowers blossomed and fell, and it was the first time in our memories.

Long time, the tide rises and falls, and it is the most real time in our life.

- to the original dreams of those years