Living without the spirit of backpackers

I can't think of anything that pays more attention to ritual than religion. Perhaps this sense of ritual catalyzes belief. In the film, the writer man with a stubborn beard and a beard is shaking his shoulders with emotion in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary, and the fat man kneels a few steps. Walking up to the statue of the saint, she was not at all worried about being laughed at for it, and the cynical woman seemed to be healed for a moment when the priests performed the ceremony, showing a serene smile, not to mention the male protagonist wearing it. The calmness with which my son's urn was kneeling in the church, and the comfort of seeing his son at the altar in a trance. I understand that the immortal sense of immortality brought by the magnificent and beautifully built statues to ordinary people is just like the real sense of the world that is bumped into by walking on foot.

This is the story of an old young backpacker, actually. No matter what purpose he had in the first place, but what I saw was the changes brought to him by this journey, as well as the warm feeling that he and his friends gradually became one, the most beautiful acquaintance between people from strangers to familiarity , are all compressed in the segment where the three people almost hit their own heads while learning to play with a stick, and behind it is the vast European wilderness, which is very beautiful. We can take a plane and drive a car to stay in a hotel, with hot water 24 hours a day, accompanied by a tour guide, we can also carry our luggage and walk on the mountain road to live in a tent, pee in the fields for a long time and can’t drink a sip of hot water, the former is called tourists and the other is called travel By. It's always interesting to explore something by yourself, but isn't it the interest that makes life fascinating?

The hero's son's dream is to see the world. And the hero had taught him that this dream was too extravagant. It's the difference between the life we ​​live and the life we ​​choose, the son said. The scrawny and wrinkled proprietress of the hotel on the way said, "I also longed for the pilgrimage road when I was young, but now I am too old to walk. A large shop with dozens of people, some people are snoring loudly, some people get up in the middle of the night to eat, and the next morning everyone cleans up like a dog. The estrangement, the life is refreshed every day, this is the fucking life. The people who had been violent for three months looked at each other and smiled tacitly in front of the church, accompanied Old Tom to the seaside of Muxia, and watched the sea with the raging waves crashing on the shore. Personally, because of the experience on this road, I realized the answer that I have been asking for all the time, as if I have asked for my own scriptures.

I have walked through thousands of rivers and mountains, I have seen the sunrise and sunset, I have heard the wind in the wilderness, and I have tasted exotic wines. I think all of these are the rituals for us to experience life, making every moment from birth to death more solemn. The true meaning of life may be hidden in it.

I really have to use the boundless traveler to encourage myself.

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