Looking up at the blue sky is a wonderful feeling. That kind of vastness, that kind of profundity, that kind of remoteness and that kind of generosity can give people endless enjoyment.

Looking up at the blue sky, you can lie on a comfortable lounge chair, on an outward balcony, on a roof with a platform, on a grassy slope, on a mountain peak where the wind is whistling, or on a vast grassland. ...

And I, who feel the deepest, are on the rippling water.

The stroke I am most familiar with, like and willing to adopt is backstroke.

Lying lazily on the water, let the green water like Joan float the secular body, with gentle ripples spreading quietly; In the water that can dissolve everything, we can put down all our thoughts and quietly look up at the cloudy or cloudless sky, just look quietly and float slowly. ...

Maybe you can stroke your arms a few times, and the slight sound of water will be so far away.

The idea of swimming is purely accidental.

I haven't swam for a long time. After entering the city, I really can't swim in the swimming pool in Xu Fang, which is crowded and full of meat.

I want to swim on my way to work. My residence should be two kilometers away from where I work. It should be in the second half of last year, I listened to a friend's "order" and began to walk to and from work as much as possible.

Walking on the way to and from work, I always feel that someone is coming or going in a hurry. Alas, people are wandering in the world! During this journey, there is a large construction site not far away. A hill was carried away by car. On a sunny day, the speeding traffic raises dust all over the sky, which often makes me have to stop and close my eyes.

Ah! How I long for the blue sky! In this way, all of a sudden, I remembered backstroke, and I remembered looking up at the blue sky.

Not far from my hometown, there is a small reservoir called "Lotus Pond". The area is above 60 mu, but it must be below 100 mu. Although the reservoir is small, even the high-end swimming pools in the city can't compare with it.

When I was a child, watching adults and children play and shout in the water in the evening, the fatigue of the day seemed to disappear without a trace, and the clear green sea really attracted me endlessly.

I first "swam" when I was about five or six years old. It was a sunny noon, and I couldn't resist the temptation of water. Although I didn't care about the lotus pond that was too big in my eyes at that time, I took off my clothes with a cow-watching friend who was two or three years older than me and sneaked into a small pond at the foot of the mountain.

Water is mysterious, especially for children. I remember when I was a child, I saw adults swimming in the water and asked my father: People can walk into the water, why can't they walk into the soil? Before my father could answer, an aunt on the side quickly spat in her mouth and told me what the child was talking nonsense. I didn't know until I grew up that walking into the soil is a taboo.

The mountain pond is small and the water is shallow. When we first got into the water, we were still very scared and carefully moved into the water bit by bit. However, slowly, the pleasure brought by the coolness of water made us forget everything soon. As we poured water on each other, we walked slowly in the middle of the incense hall, and soon we reached the chest-high water. The buoyancy of water makes it difficult for us to control our bodies and movements at first, and a panic attacks our hearts. Maybe this is our cry. At this moment, a passing adult came and walked into the pond, which screwed us both up.

That night, I got the first scolding and flogging from my father twice in my life, and my mother echoed that I should fight. That night, I knew I had made a mistake, so I took a bath early and went to bed. Shortly after going to bed, mom and dad came in. My dad had about five or six dry straws in his hand and asked me if I dared to sneak into the shower again. At the same time, he hit me naked and smashed branches all over the bed. I looked at my father with tears in my eyes and picked up the crumbs that fell on the bed with my little hands. As a result, my mother quickly carried me out, and my father went to clean up my dirty little bed.

Mom and dad are both standard "landlubbers". I have never seen them swimming in the water. Mother has an indescribable awe and fear of water. Just when I grew up and went out to study in college, every time I left and walked a long way, I could still hear my mother shouting, "Don't swim in the river!" " "Although she knows that her son can swim around the lotus pond in front of his house countless times.

What taught me to swim was that I was the father of a landlubber. To my surprise, the night after I was beaten, my father led me to the lotus pond I longed for and walked to the shallow water. My father walked into waist-deep water in shorts, and then told me to take off my clothes and walk down.

That's it. My father held my stomach in his hand and taught me to swim. When I learned to do things in the water, my father often let go of the hand holding my stomach until I saw that I was really going to die. Although it suffocates me every time, my father always pretends not to hear it, and even my mother watching by the pond sometimes protests loudly.

Slowly, I can finally float by myself, and finally I can swim freely beside my father. At that time, I often liked to let my father hold my back with his hand. He would turn slowly in the water, and I just looked at my father's smiling face and was comfortable in the upper reaches of the sky. Sometimes, I even paddle with my hands while deliberately splashing water drops on my father's face. That sweet happiness washed away so much poverty and sadness!

Later, my father stopped going with me. When I grow up, I still like to swim backstroke. I can't see my father's face. I can quietly look at the high blue sky. If the stars come out at night, I will think of the nursery rhyme "There is a star in the sky and a man on the ground" that my mother taught me. I often think, which of the stars in the sky is me? Which star belongs to me?

Now, my father and I are separated forever, and my father's smiling face can only emerge in my memory forever. Moreover, the long feeling of looking up at the blue sky can only be presented in memory, and there is only helplessness flowing in this picture. ...

Look up at the blue sky

I miss you, my heart is full of innocence and romance. Every time the grass opens, I always stay on the hill next to the village, picking wild flowers and catching butterflies. When you are tired, just lie down and look at the sky quietly. The sky is so blue, the clouds are so light, the clouds swim leisurely in the blue sky, and they curl even when touched lightly. Such as water eyes, sprinkled with holy white and boundless blue, you can't see a trace of gloom and gloom.

In a blink of an eye, time has brought you to middle age. Nowadays, childlike innocence has not disappeared, and passion has dropped sharply. Sooner or later, struggling, shuttling in a hurry, wandering in the busy, how can we return to nature and quietly look at the blue sky? Only after feeling, or looking up at the sky and sighing. Somehow, the flying dust customs covered up the ideal scene. When it gets dark, I wonder if the sky is already leg-colored, or if it has become higher and farther. Maybe you shouldn't blame God like this. Your heart wall is full of ups and downs, and you can't spare time and space, so it's hard to show your vision and feelings about life.

Don't be silent, bury your head or stretch your waist to look at the sky. Perhaps, the haze hanging over my heart will dissipate with the faded white clouds; Perhaps, the depressed mood will be suddenly enlightened because of the clear sky in Wan Li. I believe you must be enlightened, have a feeling, have raised everything you should have raised, given up everything you should have given up long ago, and found the blue sky in your heart again.

Look up at the blue sky

I grew up watching the blue sky.

When I was very young, I liked to lie on the grass and read the blue sky. The blue sky is so deep that my imagination can't penetrate it. I think even if my imagination is a missile, I can't penetrate it. I can only create a puff of smoke and temporarily block some people's sight. Like all children, I always ask myself: What is above the sky? Asked grandpa, grandpa said: the sky is still the sky, that is, there is a sky outside, and the sky is nine times heavier. Ask again: What about the top of the cloud nine? Grandpa was stopped, no comment. Such a white-bearded grandfather didn't answer, which shows that this day is too profound.

Ask my father who teaches. My father talked about the knowledge of the universe: infinite time, infinite space, stars, planets, satellites, solar system, milky way galaxy, extragalactic galaxy, big bang ... things beyond my imagination, which made me puzzled. Later in the fog, I felt that the blue sky was bottomless. Although I don't fully understand what my father said, I know that God never shuts one door but he opens another, and my father is knowledgeable.

Therefore, I prefer to lie on the green grass and watch the blue sky. Several big clouds are moving slowly, so slowly that I can't feel it moving for a while, so I keep looking and see many lovely images, such as cotton balls, dolls, fairies, sheep and dad's faces. Looking at it, I feel that the blue sky extends from my heart to infinity. The fresh grass is pressing under me, and I feel the green juice dye on my clothes quickly, and I want to penetrate into my skin and even my body. Some small flowers, like falling stars, blinked their bright eyes and seemed to communicate with me about the sky. I'm sure they know the sky like the back of their hand. Suddenly, I was surprised to find that I had just seen my father's face from the clouds. What kind of metaphor is this? Is it because I have been looking forward to my father growing up?

One summer night, I lay in Sun Guping's cool bed and looked at the stars all over the sky. The stars in the sky are flashing. They have been telling us something on the earth, but we don't know anything. Other children are playing, and I think hard about the stars. I am particularly lonely, looking at the sky alone, thinking about the sky and letting my friends play around have nothing to do with me. And the sky is too deep, near and far from me. My father's erhu sang "Two Springs Reflecting the Moon". I feel a silk scarf slowly pulled out from the depths of the night or the heart of a painful person, bent and astringent. When it passed through my heart, it became a thorn. My heart itches and hurts, but I can't find a place to scratch and touch it. It itches and hurts for a long time. In the extreme darkness, I looked at my father's face and saw that it was shaped like bronze. If it weren't for the deep and wise light in his eyes, if it weren't for his playing the erhu like no one's watching, he would be a bronze statue in the dark from a distance. I can't think of how much meaning such a statue contains, just as I can't think of how many stars are in the sky. At this time, the frogs in the field are playing hard, and they take no rhythm as the rhythm, like a thousand people playing Allegro with their own beat; Fireflies carry flickering lanterns, tread the melody of erhu and dance melancholy, looking for something. The stars in the sky are still talking to me. I can only bring these to my dreams and fly in them.

After work, my father often plays the flute, flute, harmonica and phoenix piano. Many beautiful songs, at that time, I only knew that those songs injected into my heart, but I didn't know their names and specific contents. Those melodies are so familiar to me that I can hum them. When I hummed softly and savored it, I found almost all the sadness was light or heavy. I didn't know until I grew up that my father played classical music such as Su Wu Shepherd. Is the melancholy in my inner quality caused by the frequent carving of these tunes? I think maybe.

My father often tells me about past lives, the world and the outside world. My father told me passionately that Shui Bo was a hero of Liang Yusheng, with a yearning for Kongming, a charm of the Spring and Autumn Period and the Warring States Period, and solemnly told me about Chen Jingrun. Later, a question arose in my heart: my father just didn't tell me the story of hanging his head and biting the cone. Why? Is it because he doesn't like such reckless behavior? In my impression, my father never asked me to study hard, but asked me to learn skills. He often tells stories and other ways to make me understand and remember a lot of knowledge. Sometimes he will give me some riddles to think about, some interesting arithmetic problems to do, stimulate my interest in learning and cultivate my habit of independent thinking. He basically doesn't beat and scold children, and always tells us the truth of being a man with stories. I looked up at my father and felt that my father was my blue sky. I looked at him as if looking up at the blue sky. Father's simple face is quiet, as quiet as the blue sky; God's eyes are clear, as clear as the blue sky; Father's words are as deep as the blue sky.

1983 passed the college entrance examination, but was not admitted because of color blindness. A rural teenager knows nothing about the world. Originally, arts and sciences were ok. At the beginning, he could choose arts and sciences, because he didn't know that he was color blind, and he didn't know what restrictions would be imposed on admission to color-blind colleges. He chose science without hesitation. I was so sad that I didn't say a word. Mother was in great pain and kept lamenting. My father was very calm, and I knew that his heart was actually the most painful, because he was admitted to Tsinghua, but was injured by sectarian struggle and buried in a remote rural area. Now his son is repeating the same mistake. What kind of pain should it be? However, he is as calm as a blue sky without a cloud. Why is this? He didn't say, but I can guess that it is to keep the sadness in my heart, not to add pain to my son's pain, but to dilute the sad atmosphere. I look at the blue sky all day. This summer's innocence is blue, like a huge blue glass. In the blue sky, the sun is shining. My heart is getting brighter, like the blue sky and the sun.

At that time, the family was particularly difficult, and there was really no money to study liberal arts. My father asked me to be a private teacher, and I was admitted and became a private teacher. I looked at the starry eyes in the classroom and felt that I was going to become a sun, radiating a thousand rays. At this time, my father often tells me about his teaching methods and the good teaching plans he has made. I soon became an excellent teacher and was commended by the county. I insist on literary creation in my spare time, and he often encourages me. Our father and son have many differences in literary views. For example, he likes classical poetry, and I like innovation, especially his attitude towards poetry is very different. He only loves old-style poetry and doesn't like free verse, but I like both. Once, I wrote many new poems. Father doesn't object to my writing new poems because he doesn't like them and he never pretends to understand them. He didn't tell me what to do with my new poem. When my new poem was published, he was very happy and wrote a pair of couplets praising: "The spring breeze is proud, and the head is gradually emerging;" When the rain and dew moisten the heart, it is true. " My poems are often published in public and I joined the Writers Association. Seeing that I was not affected by setbacks, my father happily wrote: "Experience is mixed, knowing is enough, and knowing is fun;" Books are rich, and if you don't become famous, you will get married. " Father's heart is as clean as blue sky and as warm as sunshine.

Now, I have left my cabin, left my parents and walked into the small town, but I still stubbornly like to look up at the blue sky. When I am walking, when I am busy, when I am at leisure, when I am sad and bored, I look at the blue sky, get encouragement, comfort and strength. Then, I walked on.

Look up at the blue sky

I always like to look up at the blue sky, especially the autumn sky. The deep blue sky without any impurities is boundless; Velvety clouds, tangible and intangible, make people ecstatic and imaginative.

Open the heavy curtains, I sit alone in front of the window, facing the blue sky in autumn, breathing the breath from the autumn wind, and my heart warms up a little. Suddenly, I seem to have gone back to the past years, that innocent childhood, that infinitely happy teenager … I always feel that what happened before was yesterday.

In the journey of my life, I met many people. Some people are like autumn clouds, which float and disappear in the blink of an eye. Some people, like the blue in autumn, will stay in my memory forever, echoing on my heartstrings over and over again ... Life is like this, joys and sorrows, and fate is endless. Pure friendship, selflessness, and sincerity are like the vast and deep blue sky, so I especially cherish the tacit understanding between intimate friends and the beauty of this world.

Little red flowers, how warm; Autumn is everywhere and a little warm. Thank you for the beauty of this autumn gift. Looking up at the blue sky in autumn, I suddenly understood what is broad and what is profound. The world is wide, the sky is wider than the ocean, and the human mind is wider than the sky. Looking up at the blue sky, the distractions in my heart are eliminated bit by bit.

Under this blue sky, I want to take out my past one by one and put it in the sun to see if it is moldy. Oh, those lost days are the wealth accumulated in my life, and I believe it will always remind me, remind me.

Looking up at the blue sky, my thoughts are flying ...