Reality and Spirit

<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrjcBS-PlZO7kdfOlahbpeZDG2e_VO7SKOpl79A3VXDV14zIfwuroJIXDPuERfFO4MJgeT86y2GpVJsrBomoqLhTofxCxaIoUHdwN-GPOpBWil-NWioNO5FcJGjUmQDM4UOOMRF4N512-l/s1600/reality.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrjcBS-PlZO7kdfOlahbpeZDG2e_VO7SKOpl79A3VXDV14zIfwuroJIXDPuERfFO4MJgeT86y2GpVJsrBomoqLhTofxCxaIoUHdwN-GPOpBWil-NWioNO5FcJGjUmQDM4UOOMRF4N512-l/s1600/reality.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I like writing, and all of my writing is from the bottom of my heart. I write because I want to keep track record of my life and my thought. Therefore, my writing has intimate relationship with my life, my thought and every friend who runs into my life. Almost all the friends who come to my life and my inner world appear on my writing. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">However, my writing seldom gets attention from my friends. Few friends will know about them. Maybe that’s why I can write everything I want to write. Before I refused　to reveal any of my writing to my familiar persons who are around me, because there are too much inner secret from my heart. I have no courage to anatomy myself before others. If so I will lose the feeling of safety. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Gradually I no longer refuse the friends to read my articles. However, I am still inactive to reveal my writing to my friends. If someone find them by himself, pay attention to them and read them silently, I will appreciate him from the bottom of my heart, because that means he cares about me and my life. However, I hate everybody ask me any personal questions about my writing. The questions like “ Who is the girl you mention in your article? Who is your first love? “ These are so disgustful questions that make you revolt against. The information in my writing is so personal and immanent that it’s unfit to discuss. You can read them silently, and from my writing you will know something about me. You can touch my heart from my writing. You can understand another world about me and you’d better be moved by my writing. However, you can’t ask any questions, although you have so many questions to ask, although your curiosity is inspired, although you want to know more about details. If you want to get the answers, you can read between in lines with your heart, you can guess and finally maybe you can never get clear answers. Anyway, you can’t disturb me by those disgustful questions.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">For me, there is two world--------reality and spirit. These two worlds go along with each other and affect each other. My spirit lead my reality and finally is influenced by my reality at the same time. However, in some way they are independent. In reality, I work, strive for money, just because money is the first important factor to make my life happy. However, in my spirit I pursue something has nothing to do with money but priceless, such as love, freedom and interest. In reality, I need a relaxing life. I like talking with friends in a free and humorous way, because I feel easy and happy to live in this way. By contrast, in my spirit world I often think about the serious life philosophy, such as the attitude to life, the distillation of love, the sentiment about life. Generally speaking, my reality is live and busy full of persons coming and going. In contrast, my spirit world is quiet, alone and just belongs to myself. Every day I need time to spend along, doing something I like, such as reading and writing. I always keep a good habit of reading before sleep. Every night I lie in the bed with a comfortable posture, and then turn on the books I like, at that time my spirit is purified. In this way I get a wonderful soul consolation. In my reality I seem to be an extrovert. I can make friends with different people and get a lot of friends. I can be active in different occasions. However, only I know that I am introvert when I face to myself only. I pay attention to my inner voice and pursue inner world. However, I share my heart and soul with few friends in my reality, because I think it’s not fit to mix my two worlds. In my writing, there is a real me, showing up my spirit and soul, but few friends in my reality can share my writing. However, I never feel lonely, because I have so many strange readers, who can understand me, appreciate my writing and keep encouraging me.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>It’s the reality and spirit which go along each other make my life happy, full and perfect.</b></div></div>

Reality and Spirit

I like writing, and all of my writing is from the bottom of my heart. I write because I want to keep track record of my life and my thought....

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A Question

<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;">When I was child I used to love traveling by trains. Sitting by the window used to be so much fun, during the day as well as during the night. I used to enjoy looking at the green fields, big piles of hay covered with a clay overcoat, goats and cattle running around in the fields and sometimes, when there was a road parallel to the railway line, I used to look at the traffic and see if anyone was willing to race with us. At night time, you can’t see anything outside but if you concentrate, you see light glows popping out of the horizon as if the sun is ready to rise. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz6faFaUo9vEqCFfuSCOnXWa3X5K1tNSzTnNCDsJdWbTG_Wkl38Fz5rqDjFqYjr3PQeisdLIlwCD2zOxmp5m99ogrP7wGFqpgBTEU71-cXPDNREVzb5q6CTY3DtjiEVlkzACe0lEnQhuVS/s1600/childhood-innocence.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz6faFaUo9vEqCFfuSCOnXWa3X5K1tNSzTnNCDsJdWbTG_Wkl38Fz5rqDjFqYjr3PQeisdLIlwCD2zOxmp5m99ogrP7wGFqpgBTEU71-cXPDNREVzb5q6CTY3DtjiEVlkzACe0lEnQhuVS/s320/childhood-innocence.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">You may even spot a number of them. These dim glows are the lights at far off places. It could be from a major city, a factory, a lonely house of a farmer who somehow managed to get a generator for his domestic use or from a mosque in a small town.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAvBLoxx_mRcYhB98Wjdcc4OMOkZnIlxVUcqrTRfEXxH-QUce1vE42I3hBfmwfd4XENJGryTUilfYxknAdFD8Q10FHS49HhhKLARqFjmB_XMNYbbl-pkZX_QKDWGgy7m_HToD0TCWhXwtG/s1600/childhood-fun-game-527-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAvBLoxx_mRcYhB98Wjdcc4OMOkZnIlxVUcqrTRfEXxH-QUce1vE42I3hBfmwfd4XENJGryTUilfYxknAdFD8Q10FHS49HhhKLARqFjmB_XMNYbbl-pkZX_QKDWGgy7m_HToD0TCWhXwtG/s320/childhood-fun-game-527-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">These glows used to fascinate me. I would just stare at them and wish that if I were able to fly I would fly to them. I was curious to see how many people would be there and what would they be doing, what would they be thinking. I was curious to know if I was as important to them as they were for me. I was curious to know if they ever wished that they could grow wings and come see me sitting by the window of a train, passing miles away from their town. Such a childish thought</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLxDKkWWB7IfZXV2zLvZIbAsvKjIS8d-RXxjWvRPSk9ChsORFHgNQjUVTgPnNhkTQMaQzxYVNboJq5iLHJs2pxJZuDHhVMlhqOnJv6QCR383MEIuLUie7prcvkEHnWRiI_OhwU64Oc5pmr/s1600/clockSky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLxDKkWWB7IfZXV2zLvZIbAsvKjIS8d-RXxjWvRPSk9ChsORFHgNQjUVTgPnNhkTQMaQzxYVNboJq5iLHJs2pxJZuDHhVMlhqOnJv6QCR383MEIuLUie7prcvkEHnWRiI_OhwU64Oc5pmr/s320/clockSky.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />Time passed by and I grew up. God gave me opportunities to see the world and meet people of every race, religion and language. Had experiences to groom myself, friends to cherish, moments to remember and stories to share. Now when I get to travel in a train and look outside the window I don’t get the same feeling anymore. I no longer feel the curiosity to grow wings and fly to see what lies within a light glow, miles away from our moving train. How do people live there and what are they thinking. Somehow, it doesn’t matter to me anymore.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZxhrsdx79UcXXEEVd2yc5wFAAAk4O7k8aD30v6smZ3WOZbeMnf8eT-cX9gPp7fIdu2lB7CJ5zwrBioNvODT9XspPf07vMASA1tZzOeND0PQ-igiDTq31jJ7FpzIIyIJ7cTwaUu_-XJppo/s1600/Waldorf+Mardi+Gras+030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZxhrsdx79UcXXEEVd2yc5wFAAAk4O7k8aD30v6smZ3WOZbeMnf8eT-cX9gPp7fIdu2lB7CJ5zwrBioNvODT9XspPf07vMASA1tZzOeND0PQ-igiDTq31jJ7FpzIIyIJ7cTwaUu_-XJppo/s320/Waldorf+Mardi+Gras+030.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />Is this a blessing or a curse?</div></div>

A Question

When I was child I used to love traveling by trains. Sitting by the window used to be so much fun, during the day as well as during the ni...

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