The "micro epic" of the | individual sense

When I read Yang Xianping's "Middle Age", I seemed to see My brother Xianping, who was five years older than me, sitting opposite me. Time flies, sighing and sighing, I have already felt the stiffness of time. It stopped in the narrative.

Almost every one of Brother Xianping's words are like drunken words, broken because of the truth. These words, as if they did not come from a father with a fiery heart, it was more like a murmur of mother tongue. But if combined with Brother Xianping's wandering history across the Central Plains (from the southern Taihang countryside to the Great Northwest Desert Army), and the sincere heart of seeing words as flesh and blood, it is not difficult to understand the daily reality of a lonely person who has truly experienced the daily reality of sipping family affection to quench his thirst. This kind of "micro epic" in the individual sense is a major theme in the decades of Writing of Brother Xianping. When he talked about these truths, he was not far away from the grand social time and space, because the Badain Jaran Desert, floating dust, the sand and gravel particles of the world still flowed in his life.

Brother XianPing truthfully recounted his feelings for licking calves. Two marriages, two children, support the writer's affectionate and human starry sky. "I noticed that the second son's laughter is secret, he usually when he is asleep or pretending to rest, the fat corners of his mouth are pulled upwards, the nose and the flesh of the cheeks are also slightly moved, the corners of the mouth are slightly raised, and then a smile is presented, and he is very happy and very transparent, as if he has known a lot of secrets, and even seen through the whole life and the world."

Brother Xianping has a strong worldly obsession, so he writes upstream or downstream in his own bloodline. As a father, he wrote his own "children" with great pity; as the son of his parents, he wrote about his father and mother, and wrote about the terroir of his hometown—long thoughts, all kinds of memories that were about to be forgotten, turned into mottled writing, and achieved a large text journey of "middle-aged stories". He has an open heart, and in his writing, his heart selflessly creates the breadth of heaven and earth, and all kinds of dense "small self" writings make us read that the fate of a living individual in the past half century has floated. In "Middle Age", what really lays the foundation for the whole book is this sentence: "Between heaven and earth; man is not unique; man is not alone, but the life of all beings." ”

Despite this transparency, Brother Xianping still could not get rid of the troubles of fate, and he was even deeper than ordinary people who were selected by the sorrow of fate. Mixed in with the description of family affection, the narrative of his hometown (Nantaihang), the desert military service, the memories of his poetic career and other major plates, is his "depression" story.

Or it is precisely because of this transparency that he has become a borrower of some kind of poetry that cannot be avoided or crossed, or in other words, Yang Xianping has experienced the human world with the help of his own flesh and body shell. Although he was deeply involved in the play, he survived after all. The onset of depression made him discover the special signs in his body like a stranger.

But how could he suffer from depression? Brother Xianping's book says: When friends learned about it, they all thought it was incredible. "But it's true, from June to November, there were physical reactions such as dizziness, palpitations, weakness of limbs, gastrointestinal discomfort, unconsciousness, depression... For a while, looking down from a high place, there was always the urge to jump. Fortunately, I still have a belief in my heart, that is, my mother is still there, I must fulfill my filial piety, and my son is still young and must fulfill his responsibilities. All of this is extremely secular and self-sufficient, devoid of human feelings and great aspirations. I guess I don't need it either, and they don't need it either. Although I have longed for heroes since I was a child, I have always maintained my inner passion and blood for many years in the military. ”

In the life changed by depression, Brother Xianping has made great efforts to fight himself. It's an unavoidable mental journey. However, as he did, there are indeed too few works that have the courage and willingness to tear apart his flesh and blood and reveal his own heart. He offers us all the torments that a person can experience in a situation of near-mental breakdown and confusion. For example, in "Depression", Xian Ping brother described the extreme discomfort brought to him by the attack of depression: "In order to verify whether it is really a depression, I have been hospitalized twice, except for the stomach and intestines, all organs have been detected by various instruments. As I lay down and kept handing over my body to various instruments, inexplicable fear wrapped around me, like the devil and their minions. ”

According to the author's own account, this happened in 2016. Unknown minions came into his life unexpectedly. "Sometimes I was so dizzy that I couldn't stand, and my whole body seemed to float. What's worse is that there are cognitive barriers, always feeling that everything in front of me is very strange, and I myself am like an outsider in this world. "At this time, how much I wanted to have someone, even if it was only inseparable from me, but it had nothing to do with it." "Most of the time, I lie on the bed or on the couch like a zombie, sometimes trying to write something, but sitting in front of the computer, I feel dizzy, and then my whole body loses control and almost wants to fall." 」

Depression thus nearly completely controlled his life. And the reason for all this seems to be still related to loneliness: "From the autumn of 2015 to the beginning of October 2019, I was in a state of being alone again"; related to the change of marriage: "I was not used to it at the beginning, after all, marriage has been more than ten years, suddenly separated, and it continues to unfold and abruptly stop under inexplicable and even forceful circumstances." For a long time, pain, self-blame, incomprehension and loneliness were like knives, day and night"; and in the end, it could not end with the cleansing of time - "it washed everything away with a lot of wind and a lot of strength": "After the spring of 2018, I slowly figured it out and felt the impermanence and inevitability of certain things in life. Between people, husband and wife, friends, even relatives, sooner or later there will be a time of separation" - so, as permeable as Yang Xianping, once again removed the strange self, he illuminated and restored the complete self with the candlelight of the heart, which is exactly what he himself said: "In a big way, this is also the path of heaven and earth and the right way. ”

Yang Xianping's book "Middle Age" is a personal life and spiritual history formed after the ups and downs of the times and the experience of disasters. He wrote in silence. The book is combined in the presentation of hesitation, wandering and determination. The process of reading this book is also the process of reflecting on me and the first half of our lives. Brother Xianping's writings have largely restored the life of an ordinary, unusual mortal since the 1970s. As a writer, although the mind is often innocent, it is still impossible to hide that both the body and the emotions are aging in the illusion of impermanence.

Like many literary youths, Brother Yang Xianping also started from poetry writing, so although "Middle Age" is mottled, it can still see the situation of poetry. His fantasies and depictions, his choices on the road of life, are inseparable from poetry. He remembers in detail almost everyone who has intersected with his literary (poetic) career, in other words, the arrival and formation of his own thoughts in this way. "Middle Age" may be rough and distant, but because of the embellishment of poetry, it is also precise and intimate. Between our heads and heads, we can see the face of the writer. His love of life and the pain of the years did not happen to him alone, "in his place, in fact, we can see each of us."

Without exaggeration, I would also like to recognize Middle Age as a common portrait of us.

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