从西藏回来很久,最记得的不再是布达拉,不再是纳木错,也不再是珠穆朗玛,心心念念的是藏民大白天缓缓坐在草地里吃着糌粑,是卖面的卓玛一边慢慢洗碗一边歌唱,是带着皱纹的微笑颤抖着手在佛前倒酥油。我迷惑着她的安详,正如她微笑着我的迷狂。在明信片和婚纱照之外,大约就是这群不太一样的人,撑起了西藏的神秘。他们给了我另一种人生观照,原来真的有一种活法:简单衣食之后,就不再蝇营狗苟,而是慢悠悠地转山、慢悠悠地放牧、慢悠悠地喝 Returning from Tibet for a long time, the most remembered is no longer Potala, no longer a Namtso, and no longer an Everest. It is the Tibetan people who slowly sit in the grass and eat slush during the daytime, Sing slowly while washing the dishes, shivering with a wrinkled smile and pour butter in front of the Buddha. I am puzzled by her serenity, just as she is smiling at my crazy. In postcards and wedding photos, about this group is not the same person, propped up the mystery of Tibet. They gave me another kind of outlook on life. There was really a living law: After simple food and clothing, there was no longer a camping dog, but a time-honored rotation, leisurely grazing and leisurely drinking