Seeing that he was writing very seriously, Grandpa didn't bother with his name, walked into the pavilion lightly, and stood next to the old monk to watch him write. The old monk wrote a poem:

"The mountain rain cannot be clear, and the autumn path is not artemisia.

Daping He Wuwu, the nine elders are especially strange.

Donggu submarine mosquito cockroach, wandering in the wind and clouds.

The pine green is from the waves, and the platform rises in mid-air.

There is an ape tamed in this, and it is always clear and mourning.

The old monk called it and fed it with green plums.

Dependent on each other, the love is as good as a baby.

I sigh that between heaven and earth, everything urges each other.

People and things are not connected, and things and people can not be guessed. ”

The old monk finished writing and put the pen away. Grandpa applauded and praised: "What a poem! What a poem! ”

The old monk was not surprised to see his grandfather, and bowed his head slightly: "Thank you for the compliment, but I didn't write this poem, I just practiced calligraphy!" ”

My grandfather read a lot of Tang and Song poems before he got famous, and he was very familiar with poetry. When he heard the old monk say this, he bent down and asked, "Master, why haven't I read such a good poem before?" Dare to ask who is the author of this poem? I'll definitely visit you when I have a chance in the future. ”

The old monk laughed and said, "The author of the poem hasn't written this poem yet!" ”

Grandpa thought that the old monk was joking with him, so he laughed and said, "Master is joking!" Isn't it contradictory that you said that you didn't write this poem, and that the author hasn't written it yet? ”

The old monk put down the brush, folded his hands and said, "The monks don't speak." It is true that I did not write this poem, and its author really has not written this poem. The author was a late bloomer, not until he was seventy-five years old, and his fame was difficult to know until then. ”

Grandpa was greatly surprised, and he folded his hands together and asked, "In this way, the monk can predict the future?" ”

The old monk laughed, waved his hand and said, "Poor monks can't predict the future. ”

"If a monk can't predict the future, how can he know that this poem has not yet been written? And how do you know that the author of this poem will shine after the age of seventy-five? Daddy asked.

The old monk put away the rice paper, rolled it into a roll, and said, "I just know the past." The past, present, and future seem to be different, but in fact they just go back and forth. ”

Grandpa knew that the old monk was very knowledgeable, so he hurriedly asked for advice: "How can I say it? ”

"If I experienced last year's spring flowers, autumn moon, summer wind, winter and snow, I can know what the situation and scene are today's spring, summer, autumn and winter, and I can also know when a tree will bloom, when it will bear fruit, and when it will lose its leaves. This is to know the past and know the future. ”

"The monk is right, but there are many springs, summers, autumns and winters in a person's life, and the things that are experienced in each spring, summer, autumn and winter are different, how do you know this?"

The old monk tied the rolled rice paper with a small rope, stroked his silver beard and said, "Spring, summer, autumn and winter are small-scale cycles. If you have seen the snow-capped mountains in the sky, the rushing rivers, the thousands of rivers flowing into the sea, and the thunderclouds and wind power, you will know where the water comes from, where it meets, where it flows, where it ends, how it transpires into clouds, and how clouds condense into rain. This cycle of a small drop of water is like a reincarnation in the world. It's a large-scale cycle. This is also the trick of ninety-nine to one in the I Ching. ”

The old monk picked up the brush again, dipped it in ink on the inkstone, and drew a circle on the new rice paper.

"All these things follow the principle of ninety-nine to one. People are like a small reincarnation in spring, summer and autumn in time, and a big reincarnation from Sichuan to the sea in terms of transportation. The combination of many reincarnations is the life of a single person. ”

Grandpa seemed to have an understanding, and hurriedly asked, "Could it be that the monk already knows the mystery of reincarnation?" ”

The old monk smiled compassionately: "Reincarnation cannot be said to be reincarnation, and it is impossible to say that it is well understood. Like seeing a mirror, at a certain point, the past is a reflection of the future, and the future is the repetition of the past. ”

"The monk said profoundly, but I am shallow in learning, and I don't seem to understand." Grandpa is ashamed of himself.

The old monk turned around and walked out of the small pavilion and said: "The poor monk thinks that you are talented and intelligent, erudite and knowledgeable. With your ability to learn this great and small reincarnation, it only takes seven days to get through. ”

Grandpa heard that he meant to teach, he was overjoyed, and arched his hand: "If the high monk is willing to teach, it will be a blessing from my previous life!" ”

The old monk stood up, turned his head sideways and said, "That's right!" As I said earlier, the past is the future, and the future is the past. You can get my true inheritance in this life precisely because of the blessings you cultivated in your previous life. ”

Grandpa hurriedly knelt down and recognized him as a teacher.

The old monk hurriedly helped him up and said, "The teacher is the apprentice, and the apprentice is the teacher." Don't bow down! ”

"The poor monk's name is Mihai, don't call me Master, just call me Mihai."

"Yes." Daddy said respectfully.

So, my father learned the big reincarnation and the small reincarnation in the nunnery of the lost sea, and put aside the idea of traveling for the time being.

One day later, Grandpa found that this Lost Sea Monk was extraordinary. There are no fields and no grain deposits. Due to the habit of traveling, my grandfather carried a little dry food with him before entering the cave, and when he was hungry, he ate some to satisfy his hunger. But the Mihai monk didn't cook all day, and there were no pots and pans in the nunnery. Daddy didn't see him eat. If he needs to eat, he must invite his grandfather to the same table when he eats. If he doesn't eat, how can he stay alive here?

Grandpa was puzzled.

Grandpa didn't want to ask him this, but the amount of dry food he brought in was really not enough to eat, and after a day, there was not much dry food left. The next day, my father came hungry.

In the early morning of the third day, when the old monk was teaching his grandfather the general meaning of reincarnation, he saw that his father kept swallowing saliva and licking his lips, so he asked, "Are you sick?" ”

Grandpa waved his hand and said, "No." ”

"If you're not sick, why are you so ugly? So uncomfortable? If I'm sick and I don't have medicine here, I'll be in trouble. "The old monk's nunnery doesn't even have pots and pans, let alone herbs to heal the sick.

"Then monk, you never get sick?" Daddy asked, holding back his hunger.

"As the saying goes, how can a person eat whole grains without getting sick? Although whole grains give people energy, they also bring people sickness. I don't eat whole grains, so naturally I won't get sick. The old monk stroked his silver-white beard and said.

Grandpa finally led to the question he wanted to ask: "Monks don't eat grains?" Could it be that the monk knows the art of bigu? ”

The old monk nodded and smiled: "Bigu, that is, to avoid grains, of course I don't eat grains." Your discomfort is due to hunger. The poor monk has not eaten grains for many years, but he has forgotten that you still have to eat. ”

Grandpa admired and envied and said: "I read in ancient books that meat-eaters are brave and fierce, grain eaters are wise and skillful, gas eaters are gods and live long, and those who don't eat are immortal and godly. From this point of view, the monk is already an immortal! ”

The old monk laughed, waved his hand and said, "The poor monk doesn't dare to call himself an immortal!" It's not that Bigu doesn't eat nothing. We are born as mortal flesh and don't eat anything, where does the energy come from? ”

Grandpa was puzzled, "But I don't see anything edible in the house!" Could it be that the monks eat earth-born fungus and wild vegetables in the forest? "There's a river out there, and maybe there's something natural that people can eat. Those spirit monkeys are extremely fast, and may be able to come out of their caves in search of food. But the old monk moves as slowly as a turtle, and if he also comes out of the cave to find food, I'm afraid that one trip a day is not enough. Grandpa guessed that only when something could satisfy his hunger grow nearby could the old monk live here calmly.

The old monk waved his hand again and said: "The wild vegetables in the earth-born fungus forest are only one or two points purer than the five grains, and they are actually among the five grains. If you eat these every day, it is not called Bigu. ”

Grandpa became even more curious and asked, "Then what are you eating?" ”

The old monk asked rhetorically: "I see that you know a lot about ghosts and gods, do you know what ghosts eat?" ”

Grandpa nodded and said, "Ghosts absorb people's essence and also absorb the vitality of food." ”

When I was a child, I saw fruit and braised pork on the table, and I wanted to eat it. My father stopped me, saying that the food that had been offered to the ghosts and gods had lost its vitality, and it tasted like mud, and it would hurt my stomach. I said I didn't see a ghost or a god eating fruit. Daddy said that they don't need to move their mouths to eat, they just need to put their noses on it and inhale gently, and their vitality will be sucked away. I still couldn't help but want to eat it, so I secretly took an apple while my grandfather wasn't around, but as soon as I took a bite, I spit it out, and it tasted like eating mud. Later, my grandfather died, and my grandfather offered three bowls of food in front of his coffin. After my grandfather's funeral, my grandfather brought me offerings to eat. When I ate it again, it was still delicious. I told my grandfather about the difference between the last time I ate the offerings and this time. Grandpa said that grandpa knew that you were gluttonous, so he didn't eat it for you.

My grandfather wouldn't let me stick my chopsticks on the rice, saying that it meant for the ghosts and gods to eat.

Since then, I have never stuck my chopsticks on my rice. To this day, when I see someone inadvertently sticking chopsticks on my rice, I feel that something invisible nearby walks up to the rice bowl and gently sucks it on the top of the rice bowl with my nose.

Before meeting the Lost Sea Monk, Grandpa only knew that people use their mouths to obtain energy, and ghosts and gods use their noses to obtain energy, but he didn't know that there was a third, more magical smoking technique in the world.

The old monk said to his grandfather: "My method of sucking is similar to that of a ghost. ”

The old monk took his grandfather out of the nunnery and walked to a big pit by the river. There are snakes and frogs in the pit. The old monk jumped down, stood at the bottom of the pit, and waved to his grandfather, and the way of waving was exactly the same as that of the spirit monkey that night. I don't know if the spirit monkey is him, or if the spirit monkey imitates him.

When Daddy saw the snake at the bottom of the pit, he didn't dare to jump down.

The old monk was relieved: "This snake doesn't even bite the frog in front of it, how can it bite you?" ”

Frogs and snakes are natural enemies, but the snakes at the bottom of the pit really don't bite the frogs around them. Even if the frog jumped on the snake, the snake lazily ignored it.

Grandpa believed the old monk's words and jumped into the pit with him.

"Don't the animals of this paradise like to fight?" Daddy asked.

"Man dies for wealth, and birds die for food. All the strife in the world is because of a conflict of interest. The reason why Xanadu has become Xanadu is not that people, insects, birds and beasts are kind, but that there is no conflict of interests. The old monk said.

Daddy's stomach growled, he swallowed a mouthful of saliva, and said, "Won't this snake be hungry?" If you're hungry, you're sure to bite a frog, right? It doesn't bite now, maybe it's because it was full before. ”

"You'll find out later." The old monk smiled inexplicably.