I am my composition excellent fragment

"I am who I am" - an example of an excellent college entrance examination topic essay, published in "Stone City", Issue 05, 2007

There was a monk who lived in Buddhism but did not abide by the precepts. , I go my own way. He neither practices Zen nor forgets his speech. You can also eat wine and meat. He scolded him as much as he wanted, and beat him as much as he wanted, without any scruples. When the road is rough, draw your sword to help; speak out for justice and stand upright. He was willing to be killed and dared to pull the emperor off his horse. Is this a monk? This is clearly a man who stands upright and dares to do anything. A hero among heroes, a hero among heroes. He is Lu Zhishen.

Jin Sheng sighed to himself: Ruda was full of hot blood, spurting out, making people ashamed to live in this world. At that time, Li Zhuowu was also full of praise: He is a saint! Be a wise man! Be a warrior! It's a saint! He is a man of God! It's a Bodhisattva! It's Arhat! It's a living Buddha! What is Buddha? My heart is the Buddha, and I act as I please. He does not read scriptures or participate in Zen, but he deeply cherishes the spirit of Zen. Have a Bodhisattva heart and practice Shura methods. What you practice is the lesson of killing to stop aggression, and what you achieve is the righteous result of practicing Dao for Heaven.

He does not practice good deeds in his life, he only loves killing people and setting fires. Suddenly the golden shackles were opened and the jade locks were torn off. Hey! The tide came from the Qiantang River, and today I know who I am.

This is exactly a verse left by the monk Zhishen before his death. It can be seen that it is precisely because of this independent personality and pursuit of freedom that Lu Zhishen was able to wield the sword and Zen staff all the way, achieving this life that is like waves and thunder, and poetry and songs. A Lu Zhishen is just the epitome of one hundred and eight heroes in the vast waters of Liangshan. And behind the one hundred and eight heroes, there is another "I" - Shi Naian.

It is said that Shi Naian was dissatisfied with the dark reality in the late Yuan Dynasty and participated in the peasant uprising led by Zhang Shicheng. After the failure, he lived in seclusion in Suzhou and Hangzhou. In that era when there was an extreme lack of free spirit and independent personality, he was lonely and happy, using his pen as a weapon and continued to flog the rulers mercilessly. Borrowing Deruda's mouth, he sang the eternal song "I am who I am".

In that era, being able to sing such a high song required not only courage, but also extraordinary wisdom. Therefore, the name Shi Naian is just a pseudonym that cannot be verified. Real literary heroes do not make fearless sacrifices. But heroes cannot resist the passage of time. He gradually disappeared into the smoke of history, leaving behind volumes of legend under the green light.

In the hundreds of years after the hero's death, the dust on the books became thicker and thicker, and the shackles on people became heavier and heavier. There is grinding, suffering, compromise, and humiliation. In ancient times, it was said that "the punishment is not enough for the scholar-officials", but as the leaders of the "scholars, farmers, industry and merchants", the scholar-officials willingly called themselves "slaves"; when the foreigners' powerful ships and cannons came, they all fell to the ground and bowed their heads. The heartfelt cry of "I am who I am" could not be heard, but only the low sobs in the dark night.

Without the soil of independent personality, literati have somewhat lacked a bloody spirit over the past few hundred years. When I first left home in the morning, I still thought that "learning well will lead to an official career"; when I came back in the evening with a disgraced face, I could only laugh at myself, "It is rare to smile in this world, and I need to put chrysanthemums in my head when I return home." The broken ship of feudalism is sinking at will, but the Confucian scholars are still wandering between utilitarianism and seclusion.

Thinking of this, my heart ached, and something was about to burst out of my eyes. So I quickly closed my eyes and turned my thoughts elsewhere.

Thinking of the Taishi Gong who was deeply tortured but deeply remembered the important task of compiling history and abided by "no beauty allowed and no evil hidden". I think he is more qualified to be the spiritual ancestor of literati than Confucius and Mencius. There is also Zhuangzi, who is free and happy, but refuses the generous salary of a high-ranking official from the Prime Minister of Chu. Because he does not want to be a turtle out of water for the sake of small profits. He only wants to turn into a butterfly and dance gracefully in his dream. Tao Yuanming also yearned for nature and would not give in to five buckets of rice. During Dai Yuehe's hoeing days, he picked chrysanthemums on the east fence, looking at the Nanshan Mountain under the afterglow and watching the setting sun go down the mountain. Things changed several times, and Li Bai looked up to the sky laughing and went out again. After walking out of the mountains and valleys, he entered the capital to pay homage to the emperor. The powerful man took off his boots, the noble concubine studied ink, raised a cup to drown her sorrows, and played in the world of mortals. In the end, all the money was spent, and I embraced the bright moon in the water, becoming a "me" that was "unprecedented and unprecedented".

The charm of talented people has become a memory, and hundreds of years are just a passing moment.

Yesterday's sea, today's mulberry fields, literary heroes are not just the bricks and tiles of Qin and Han Dynasties, the scenery in the wind and rain of Tang and Song Dynasties.

Another round of spring returns to the earth, and the spirited scholar laments that "all kinds of frosty sky compete for freedom", points out the country, and asks again "who is in charge of the ups and downs". The literary giant with "a cold eyebrow and a thousand fingers" no longer hesitates with his halberd in his hand, but instead shouts like a madman, but he "bows down and is willing to be a bully". The classmate on the left is thinking about promotion, the playmate on the right is shouting about getting rich, the handsome young man is outstanding: study for the rise of China!

History finally opens a new chapter. The literary heroes of the past may have become nothing more than a handful of loess, but mountains and mountains cannot bury the power of personality, and vicissitudes of life cannot change that fresh breath. Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and feel that your internal organs are suddenly connected. I couldn’t help but sigh: I am who I am.