尘土受到损辱，却以她的花朵来报答。
the dust receives insult and in return offers her flowers.
我们如海鸥之与波涛相遇似地，遇见了，走近了。海鸥飞去，波涛滚滚地流开，我们也分别了。
like the meeting of the seagulls and the waves we meet and come near. the seagulls fly off, the waves roll away and we depart.
这寡独的黄昏，幕着雾与雨，我在我的心的孤寂里，感觉到它的叹息。
in my solitude of heart i feel the sigh of this widowed evening veiled with mist and rain.
使生如夏花之绚烂，死如秋叶之静美。
let life be beautiful like summer flowers and death like autumn leaves.
2009年9月7日星期一
2009年6月20日星期六
2009年6月17日星期三
2009年6月2日星期二
2009年5月31日星期日
于丹
孔子说："我年十五治于学，三十而立，四十而不惑，五十而知天命，六十而耳顺，七十而从心所欲，不逾矩。"
这是他人生历程的简单描述，我们每个人都要穿越这样的阶段。在不同的人生阶段上我们真的能做到迈过每一个门槛时都能够印证自己心中的坐标吗？我们对自己的评价令自己满意吗？
一个故事: 有兄弟两个人，深更半夜远足归家，背着重重的行囊，他们家住在80层的楼上。到了楼下，他们看到一张贴了很长时间的告示，说电梯维修，这天12点以后电梯停运，两个人背着行囊到家时已经过了电梯运行的时间。
怎么办呀？那也得回家呀，年轻呀，向上走吧。两个人背着大包向上走，走到20层时感觉太累了，想把背包存到20层，电梯运行时再回去取。卸下行囊后人轻松了，意气风发、身轻如燕向上走。走到40层时不拿东西也累了，两个人互相抱怨，争吵起来。吵吵闹闹间又爬了20层，到了60层，两个人连吵架的力气都没有了。但感觉不远了，两个人放慢脚步慢慢爬，又爬了最后20层。
终于站到80层的门口，两个人面面相觑，觉得忘了点什么，想来想去想起钥匙放在20层的背包里。
这是人的一生的寓言，我们每一个人初上路时，我们的行囊中有对世界的渴望、憧憬、梦想，有很多不着边际的异想天开，有一番鸿图大志，我们希望自己的人生是一个传奇。
我们背着行囊意气风发走到20层--人生20岁面对社会，要安身立命，要作为独立的社会的人走出去，这个时候人开始觉得疲惫，当社会用规则给你重压和挑战时，你开始想将背包中的浪漫、梦想先存下来，等有朝一日发达了再回来取，梦想终有一天会实现，我先轻身上路，如此而已。
然后我们开始步入人生的中年阶段，走到30岁--而立之年，家和职位都有了，人就更累了。往40岁走时人又想着如何提升自己，40岁时上有老下有小，人心开始不平衡，人到中年时经常会有生活对不起自己的感觉，这是种无名火，不知道该向谁发泄，反正身边有谁就向谁发泄，可能两个人互相抱怨。
一个漫画: 一个老板有无名火，随便叫来一个职员骂了一顿；职员很委屈，但不敢和老板发火。职员气呼呼地回家，看见老婆把老婆骂了一顿；老婆很委屈，看见孩子又把孩子骂了一顿；孩子不敢说什么，一生气出去了，出去看见一只小狗，把狗揍了顿；狗气呼呼的看见一只猫，就追咬猫；猫很委屈，就去追耗子……
我们的生活就在这种无名火的轮转中，这就是40岁到60岁的抱怨，这个时候觉得年华已老，人生苦短，人快要退休了。为什么社会上会出现"59岁现象"？就是觉得时不我待，如果再不捞一点，晚境更凄凉。这个阶段人是不堪重负的，人内心是有积怨的，无名火不断宣泄出来。
60岁退休后感觉人生的路不太长了，慢慢走了，没有什么抱怨了，但也没有激情了，又沉默地走完20级台阶。
80岁面对人生的这扇门，回顾自己一生的时候，总会有一些人怅然若失，想着这一生丢失了什么，想着20岁的钥匙已经留在了20岁，已经没有机会再下去取它了。
人的一生走过来是为了什么呢？你背着行囊一直想把梦想像风筝一样放出来，一直期望激情能像江河湖海一样奔涌成诗，你希望自己做一个人生传奇。但是我们做了吗？
我们这一生，就在匆忙中完成了所有人应当完成的事情，惟独不可能成为自己，因为你丢了你自己的钥匙。
这是一个寓言，也像我们自己的一辈子，我们到最后会想一切终究是为什么呀。与其到人生终点叹息、后悔，不如早一点在人生的每一个关卡上给自己一个明确的目标。
这是他人生历程的简单描述，我们每个人都要穿越这样的阶段。在不同的人生阶段上我们真的能做到迈过每一个门槛时都能够印证自己心中的坐标吗？我们对自己的评价令自己满意吗？
一个故事: 有兄弟两个人，深更半夜远足归家，背着重重的行囊，他们家住在80层的楼上。到了楼下，他们看到一张贴了很长时间的告示，说电梯维修，这天12点以后电梯停运，两个人背着行囊到家时已经过了电梯运行的时间。
怎么办呀？那也得回家呀，年轻呀，向上走吧。两个人背着大包向上走，走到20层时感觉太累了，想把背包存到20层，电梯运行时再回去取。卸下行囊后人轻松了，意气风发、身轻如燕向上走。走到40层时不拿东西也累了，两个人互相抱怨，争吵起来。吵吵闹闹间又爬了20层，到了60层，两个人连吵架的力气都没有了。但感觉不远了，两个人放慢脚步慢慢爬，又爬了最后20层。
终于站到80层的门口，两个人面面相觑，觉得忘了点什么，想来想去想起钥匙放在20层的背包里。
这是人的一生的寓言，我们每一个人初上路时，我们的行囊中有对世界的渴望、憧憬、梦想，有很多不着边际的异想天开，有一番鸿图大志，我们希望自己的人生是一个传奇。
我们背着行囊意气风发走到20层--人生20岁面对社会，要安身立命，要作为独立的社会的人走出去，这个时候人开始觉得疲惫，当社会用规则给你重压和挑战时，你开始想将背包中的浪漫、梦想先存下来，等有朝一日发达了再回来取，梦想终有一天会实现，我先轻身上路，如此而已。
然后我们开始步入人生的中年阶段，走到30岁--而立之年，家和职位都有了，人就更累了。往40岁走时人又想着如何提升自己，40岁时上有老下有小，人心开始不平衡，人到中年时经常会有生活对不起自己的感觉，这是种无名火，不知道该向谁发泄，反正身边有谁就向谁发泄，可能两个人互相抱怨。
一个漫画: 一个老板有无名火，随便叫来一个职员骂了一顿；职员很委屈，但不敢和老板发火。职员气呼呼地回家，看见老婆把老婆骂了一顿；老婆很委屈，看见孩子又把孩子骂了一顿；孩子不敢说什么，一生气出去了，出去看见一只小狗，把狗揍了顿；狗气呼呼的看见一只猫，就追咬猫；猫很委屈，就去追耗子……
我们的生活就在这种无名火的轮转中，这就是40岁到60岁的抱怨，这个时候觉得年华已老，人生苦短，人快要退休了。为什么社会上会出现"59岁现象"？就是觉得时不我待，如果再不捞一点，晚境更凄凉。这个阶段人是不堪重负的，人内心是有积怨的，无名火不断宣泄出来。
60岁退休后感觉人生的路不太长了，慢慢走了，没有什么抱怨了，但也没有激情了，又沉默地走完20级台阶。
80岁面对人生的这扇门，回顾自己一生的时候，总会有一些人怅然若失，想着这一生丢失了什么，想着20岁的钥匙已经留在了20岁，已经没有机会再下去取它了。
人的一生走过来是为了什么呢？你背着行囊一直想把梦想像风筝一样放出来，一直期望激情能像江河湖海一样奔涌成诗，你希望自己做一个人生传奇。但是我们做了吗？
我们这一生，就在匆忙中完成了所有人应当完成的事情，惟独不可能成为自己，因为你丢了你自己的钥匙。
这是一个寓言，也像我们自己的一辈子，我们到最后会想一切终究是为什么呀。与其到人生终点叹息、后悔，不如早一点在人生的每一个关卡上给自己一个明确的目标。
2009年5月30日星期六
于丹
记得一篇英文散文，是一个警察的工作日志。他说忙碌了一整天之后锁上屋门拔下钥匙向外走，刚要走的时候听到值班室内铃声大作，他毫不犹豫地开门冲进去，拿起电话来，里面有个女人非常着急地哭诉："你快来我家，我的孩子出事了，不行了！"警察问清地址，二话没说开车就冲过去了。到她家之后看见一岁多的小男孩，喉咙里不知道吞了什么异物，脸色已经发青了。警察说他都没来得及带上孩子的妈妈，自己一手夹着孩子、一手握着方向盘直奔最近的医院。当时的天色已经是薄暮了，他抄最近的路，到了一条大路需要穿越的时候，发现这个地方正在修路，路基已经挖下去一人深的大坑，再绕路已经来不及了，只能从这条路过去。这时他看见一个敦实的工段长，那个人看着他沉默了一会儿，什么都没说，然后对所有的工人说："来，我们都跳下去！用我们的手托起一块木板，让这辆车从我们的头上开过去！"工人们纷纷跳到大坑里，大家举着木板，警察的车，硬生生地从这些汉子的头顶上开过去了。他冲到医院后，医生赶紧抢救。孩子得救了，医生说再晚几分钟孩子可能真就要出大事了。警察已经身心疲惫，把孩子送给那位母亲就回家了。第二天早晨，他一直在想他都没有感谢的那些人，是些什么样的人？当时一句话都没说就跳下去让他把车从他们头顶上开过去。第二天黄昏他又到了这里，看见那批人还在那里修路，他打听工段长说要谢谢他，他们说工段长在那边，他迎着工段长走过去，看见一个高大的男人站在夕阳中，他转过身向警察走过来的时候满面是泪，他握着警察的手，警察没有说话的时候他说了一句话，他说："谢谢你救了我的儿子。"
每个人应享受帮助他人的快乐，享受我们的生命力量。一个人就像太阳一样把温暖辐射出去照耀他人，举手之劳帮助他人，他内心的快乐是巨大的，也许不需要回报，但是久而久之地帮助他人，社会就形成一种习惯。
这是我当时看过的一个很美的故事，也许大家会说有这样的巧合吗？人生的轮转真的会这样机缘巧合吗？你今天帮助了别人，明天好运就会垂临到你的头上吗？
其实，这个社会是一个循环的链条 - 有很多的时候举手之劳，你用自己的力量扛起别人的一条生路，这条生路会回报到你的身上。因为每一个人都会面对这样的窘境。
当人生不自信的时候，当你充满抱怨说世界不美好的时候，是因为你可以施与的爱太少了，并不是你得到的太少。
泰戈尔的一句名言：“云彩遮住了太阳，却怨天空不明朗。”我们自己是不是那朵流云呢？我们是不是自己没有能力去释放光明，所以抱怨这个世界不够明朗呢？
每个人心中都有一个愿望，希望我们获得爱，希望我们表达爱，但谁都不开这个金口，谁都不做第一个。什么是仁者？"仁"绝不仅仅停留在我们的思维中，它应当转化成一种行动，也就是说让你自己对他人的帮助无私地放射出去；用你自己的微笑、你自己的阳光去影响周围的人，这就是"仁者"。
于丹
每个人应享受帮助他人的快乐，享受我们的生命力量。一个人就像太阳一样把温暖辐射出去照耀他人，举手之劳帮助他人，他内心的快乐是巨大的，也许不需要回报，但是久而久之地帮助他人，社会就形成一种习惯。
这是我当时看过的一个很美的故事，也许大家会说有这样的巧合吗？人生的轮转真的会这样机缘巧合吗？你今天帮助了别人，明天好运就会垂临到你的头上吗？
其实，这个社会是一个循环的链条 - 有很多的时候举手之劳，你用自己的力量扛起别人的一条生路，这条生路会回报到你的身上。因为每一个人都会面对这样的窘境。
当人生不自信的时候，当你充满抱怨说世界不美好的时候，是因为你可以施与的爱太少了，并不是你得到的太少。
泰戈尔的一句名言：“云彩遮住了太阳，却怨天空不明朗。”我们自己是不是那朵流云呢？我们是不是自己没有能力去释放光明，所以抱怨这个世界不够明朗呢？
每个人心中都有一个愿望，希望我们获得爱，希望我们表达爱，但谁都不开这个金口，谁都不做第一个。什么是仁者？"仁"绝不仅仅停留在我们的思维中，它应当转化成一种行动，也就是说让你自己对他人的帮助无私地放射出去；用你自己的微笑、你自己的阳光去影响周围的人，这就是"仁者"。
于丹
2009年5月6日星期三
午后的天空有点孤独
行道树微微在雨中瑟缩
视线又模糊 我看不清楚
眼前曾有谁陪我走过的路
曾经有太多机会弥补
却还是看着幸福成错误
在路口停住 我回想当初
什么让我们将爱弃而不顾
我们等过了深秋 又等过了寒冬
等到一切变得太沉重
无奈选择了放手 看年华似水流
彷佛生命从此也跟着流走
时间走过了深秋 又走过了寒冬
走到一切不能再回头
我们沉默着束手 看年华似水流
用回忆这错误得一些解脱
雨停的道路有点凄楚
我想着需要怎样的礼物
能不再追逐 失去的幸福
不再试着将似水年华留住
====================================================
來來去去，去去來來
旧的不去，新的不來
有來有去，萬物常變
無來，無去，無代職
行道树微微在雨中瑟缩
视线又模糊 我看不清楚
眼前曾有谁陪我走过的路
曾经有太多机会弥补
却还是看着幸福成错误
在路口停住 我回想当初
什么让我们将爱弃而不顾
我们等过了深秋 又等过了寒冬
等到一切变得太沉重
无奈选择了放手 看年华似水流
彷佛生命从此也跟着流走
时间走过了深秋 又走过了寒冬
走到一切不能再回头
我们沉默着束手 看年华似水流
用回忆这错误得一些解脱
雨停的道路有点凄楚
我想着需要怎样的礼物
能不再追逐 失去的幸福
不再试着将似水年华留住
====================================================
來來去去，去去來來
旧的不去，新的不來
有來有去，萬物常變
無來，無去，無代職
2009年5月2日星期六
离开已后
离开我，你能生活得好。。。
离开你，我一样可以生活得很好吗？
我离不开你。
在外面那么纷繁复杂的世界，存在着太多的诱惑。
可是我们成长，就是在面对这些东西。
所有人都会有过程，没有过程不可能长大。
当我在一点点长大的时候，我发现了更多的东西 - 是我最想要的。
我最需要的是一个自我，这是我心中最大的一件事情。
感情，家庭，事业，都属于生活的一部份。
如果问我最爱谁，我先说我最爱我自己。
一个不爱自己的人，不可能真正爱别人。
我心中希望去得到的那个自我，是我自己不断地去付出努力的。
离开了你我能不能生活？
世界上离开谁都可以生活。
但是，现在以我五年的感受，离开你我不会幸福。
不过，事实上，我会不会跟另外一个人重新幸福？
会。
可是离开你，离开的是什么？
是我十七岁到今天五年的光阴。
离开你，我为什么不幸福？
因为从某一种意义上讲，是离开我自己。
是离开曾经的一段自己，我变得不完整。
如此爱自己，真是自私。
做人，还真需要够自私。
草率，都是对自我的不认真，其实不是对别人的不认真。
离开你，我一样可以生活得很好吗？
我离不开你。
在外面那么纷繁复杂的世界，存在着太多的诱惑。
可是我们成长，就是在面对这些东西。
所有人都会有过程，没有过程不可能长大。
当我在一点点长大的时候，我发现了更多的东西 - 是我最想要的。
我最需要的是一个自我，这是我心中最大的一件事情。
感情，家庭，事业，都属于生活的一部份。
如果问我最爱谁，我先说我最爱我自己。
一个不爱自己的人，不可能真正爱别人。
我心中希望去得到的那个自我，是我自己不断地去付出努力的。
离开了你我能不能生活？
世界上离开谁都可以生活。
但是，现在以我五年的感受，离开你我不会幸福。
不过，事实上，我会不会跟另外一个人重新幸福？
会。
可是离开你，离开的是什么？
是我十七岁到今天五年的光阴。
离开你，我为什么不幸福？
因为从某一种意义上讲，是离开我自己。
是离开曾经的一段自己，我变得不完整。
如此爱自己，真是自私。
做人，还真需要够自私。
草率，都是对自我的不认真，其实不是对别人的不认真。
2009年4月21日星期二
to You.
Now we are together sitting outside in the sunshine
But soon we’ll be apart and soon it’ll be night
Now things are fine the clouds are far away up in the sky
But soon I’ll be on a plane and soon you’ll feel the cold rain
You promised to stay in touch when we’re apart
You promised before I left that you’ll always love me
Time goes by
and people cry
and everything goes too fast
Now we are enjoying each moment with one another
But soon I’ll be miles away and soon the phone will be our only way
Now I’m in your arms feeling love and warmth
But soon, I’ll be alone and soon your voice will change tone
You promised we’ll never break up over the telephone
You said our love was stronger than miles apart
Time goes by
and people lie
and everything goes too fast
Let’s not fool ourselves in vain
this far away trip will give us pain
We’ll have to be so strong
to keep our love from going wrong
Distance will make us cold
even put our love on hold
You promised not to loose faith in our love when I’m away
You promised so much to me
but now you’ve left me
We go by
and then you lie
and all these time we wasted
Time goes by
and people lie
and everything goes too fast
Time went by
and then we died
and everything went too fast
But soon we’ll be apart and soon it’ll be night
Now things are fine the clouds are far away up in the sky
But soon I’ll be on a plane and soon you’ll feel the cold rain
You promised to stay in touch when we’re apart
You promised before I left that you’ll always love me
Time goes by
and people cry
and everything goes too fast
Now we are enjoying each moment with one another
But soon I’ll be miles away and soon the phone will be our only way
Now I’m in your arms feeling love and warmth
But soon, I’ll be alone and soon your voice will change tone
You promised we’ll never break up over the telephone
You said our love was stronger than miles apart
Time goes by
and people lie
and everything goes too fast
Let’s not fool ourselves in vain
this far away trip will give us pain
We’ll have to be so strong
to keep our love from going wrong
Distance will make us cold
even put our love on hold
You promised not to loose faith in our love when I’m away
You promised so much to me
but now you’ve left me
We go by
and then you lie
and all these time we wasted
Time goes by
and people lie
and everything goes too fast
Time went by
and then we died
and everything went too fast
2009年4月15日星期三
...
They say you can tell a tourist from a local by the way they see the city; one sees everything and one makes it a point to see as little as possible.
I suppose it's true that all things will become pedestrian with time, but I find the fact that I myself am so easily desensitized to the splendor or living quite unsettling. I remember just a few years ago how each step I took was recorded in journal entries and on scraps of paper as things to be treasured and never, ever forgotten.
Is it the loss of childhood or the loss of hope? (Or perhaps the two coincide?) The things that make each day so special, unique, vibrant, and worth cherishing trickle away like the way even the greatest of paintings manage to lose their luster over the years.
Once you've lost it, though, can you ever get it back?
Must we first lose to gain?
Do you ever feel like all you want to do is go home, but (at the risk of sounding obnoxiously melodramatic) you don't know where home is nor where you happened to misplace it?
Maybe home isn't so much a place as it is an idea, a fabrication of nostalgia and ideals, one that can all too easily elude us.
I don't feel fit to be living this life. Somehow, at some point, I got put into the wrong pair of shoes which have run me into a world that I can't quite find my own reflection in.
Sometimes I'd like to just commit myself, as if literally separating myself and the supposed "real world" behind locked doors (swallow the key) might make things easier, might finally free me of this.
But even within the world of the living dead, there surely still exists turmoil and distress in slightly modified form.
2009年4月12日星期日
I used to be a planner.
One thing that hasn't changed, I suppose, is living in my head and escaping the real world. Except, these days instead of planning my life in 5, 10, 15 years, I plan for next hour ahead. What do I need to do next?
Being happy is a myth...
When I was younger I would decide how my future would be, like how many kids would I have, what I would wear at my wedding, what sort of job I would have, where I would live... the list went on.
I found I could just whittle away the hours by living in my own head.
Looking back at these times, I feel a pain in my heart as though someone is tugging at it. This, you see, was bliss. I was ignorant that life isn't as easy as that. You don't know what will get in the way of your ideal life.
One thing that hasn't changed, I suppose, is living in my head and escaping the real world. Except, these days instead of planning my life in 5, 10, 15 years, I plan for next hour ahead. What do I need to do next?
I watch from the window of my room as people busy themselves with living, pretending that they are happy, but when really, I can't help but think they're all just planning their perfect lives ahead of them.
They know they're not real, but they have to imagine another life in order to get through this one.
Even when old people are rocking gently in their chairs on a sunny afternoon, they are dreaming of another life that they have lived in some other place.
Being happy is a myth...
because inside we will always yearn for something more or better, but lasting happiness will never become real when all our wants transcend this world.
To the Triple Jewel I return and rely.
2009年4月10日星期五
...
All we know is nothing more than a memory.
Each action, each thought, each spoken word is sectioned in your brain, kept for recollection at a later date.
The only part of life that is not a memory is the present, which lasts for just an instant, a flash, a blink of an eye.
Today felt ineffably strange relative to most other days, but what struck me as stranger still was later on, when I thought about what had passed over the last 24 hours.
I remembered the conversations I had had, the laughs I had heard, the sound of my feet treading on the concrete pavements; it felt like nothing more than a dream I could have dreamt whilst lying calm and still in my own bed.
Of course, the obvious distinction between dreams and reality is whether they have actually happened (whatever that means), but since both are only taken into consideration when they are in the past, it is inevitable that at one point or anther they become mixed up, and therefore, interchangeable.
And when our time comes to leave our physical entities, when we exhale that final breath, why will the difference even matter?
Everything we come across, in the dream world or the real world, will be a memory.
No matter how serious or real things can seem in the present, at this very moment, they will sooner or later be living amongst your dreams...
becoming the same - just a fragile substance of something that once was.
Each action, each thought, each spoken word is sectioned in your brain, kept for recollection at a later date.
The only part of life that is not a memory is the present, which lasts for just an instant, a flash, a blink of an eye.
Today felt ineffably strange relative to most other days, but what struck me as stranger still was later on, when I thought about what had passed over the last 24 hours.
I remembered the conversations I had had, the laughs I had heard, the sound of my feet treading on the concrete pavements; it felt like nothing more than a dream I could have dreamt whilst lying calm and still in my own bed.
Of course, the obvious distinction between dreams and reality is whether they have actually happened (whatever that means), but since both are only taken into consideration when they are in the past, it is inevitable that at one point or anther they become mixed up, and therefore, interchangeable.
And when our time comes to leave our physical entities, when we exhale that final breath, why will the difference even matter?
Everything we come across, in the dream world or the real world, will be a memory.
No matter how serious or real things can seem in the present, at this very moment, they will sooner or later be living amongst your dreams...
becoming the same - just a fragile substance of something that once was.
2009年2月21日星期六
Will You Remember Me?
"I want you to always remember me, that I had existed.
Can you really promise never to forget me? "
"Always. I will always remember.
I will never forget you. I could never forget you."
Even so, your memory of me will grow increasingly distant, and you will forget a number of things.
Realization of this brings to me a feeling of dread.
What if you forget the most important things?
What if somewhere inside you there is a dark limbo where all the truly important memories heap and slowly turn into mud?
How then, can you keep your promise to me?
I realize that perhaps all you will have left, are imperfect memories and imperfect thoughts.
Perhaps the more memories of me inside you fade, the more deeply you are able to understand me.
I know, of course.
I know that your memories of me would fade.
Which is precisely why I begged you never to forget me, to remember that I had existed.
The thought fills me with an almost unbearable sorrow.
Can you really promise never to forget me? "
"Always. I will always remember.
I will never forget you. I could never forget you."
Even so, your memory of me will grow increasingly distant, and you will forget a number of things.
Realization of this brings to me a feeling of dread.
What if you forget the most important things?
What if somewhere inside you there is a dark limbo where all the truly important memories heap and slowly turn into mud?
How then, can you keep your promise to me?
I realize that perhaps all you will have left, are imperfect memories and imperfect thoughts.
Perhaps the more memories of me inside you fade, the more deeply you are able to understand me.
I know, of course.
I know that your memories of me would fade.
Which is precisely why I begged you never to forget me, to remember that I had existed.
The thought fills me with an almost unbearable sorrow.
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