如何面對(duì)生命中這七類人生過(guò)客?

Dani Shapiro considers those people that slip away—and how we can go on with bravery and compassion.

丹妮•夏皮羅細(xì)思生命中的匆匆過(guò)客，思考我們?cè)撊绾涡膽汛缺赜赂仪靶小?/p>

1. The Friend Who Let You Down

1.傷害過(guò)你的朋友

We all have one of these. Some of us have more than one. By which I mean, a friend who we may laugh with, cry with, work side by side with, but who we know way deep down in our gut, in the place where intuition lies, doesn’t wish the best for us. This friend may be a very good person in all sorts of ways. She may not even mean to hurt us. But hurt she does. So it went with Helen, my friend of 15 years. One afternoon, Helen came by the house for a visit. She brought along a woman I didn’t know. My son was having a big old toddler tantrum at the moment and I was delighted by the tantrum. He had been terribly ill as an infant and had very nearly died. I was all for normal toddler behavior. He was red-faced, screaming, stamping his little feet. Alive! Healthy! As I scooped him up in my arms, I overheard Helen’s companion ask her how old my boy was. And I caught Helen’s reflection in a mirror as she mouthed: He’s two, rolled her eyes, and shook her head. It was a dreadful moment—a reckoning, a realization of her judgment, her lack of empathy. I called her on it, eventually. But what was there, really, to say? She apologized profusely. I accepted that apology, but I knew that things would never be the same between us. Helen was part of my learning curve about who can be safely let into my inner circle. Lesson learned.

我們都有這樣的朋友，可能還不止一個(gè)。我們可以一起大笑，也可以相擁而泣，共事也沒(méi)問(wèn)題，但我們心知肚明，直覺(jué)告訴我們，這樣的朋友并不是發(fā)自內(nèi)心地希望我們過(guò)得好。他/她可能各方面都很好，可能也不是有意要傷害我們，但就是傷害到了。我結(jié)交了15年的好朋友海倫就是這樣的人。有個(gè)下午，她來(lái)我家做客，還帶了一個(gè)我不認(rèn)識(shí)的女人。我兒子剛學(xué)會(huì)走路，正在大發(fā)脾氣。我本來(lái)挺高興，因?yàn)樗麆偝錾鷷r(shí)身體很不好，差點(diǎn)就活不下來(lái)了，我認(rèn)為學(xué)步期的小孩兒發(fā)發(fā)脾氣很正常?？此麧q紅著臉蛋，大吼大叫，跺著小腳丫子。多么活潑!多么健康!我一把將他抱起來(lái)時(shí)，不巧聽(tīng)到海倫的朋友問(wèn)她，我孩子幾歲了。我從鏡子里看到海倫裝腔作勢(shì)地說(shuō)：兩歲了，翻了個(gè)白眼還搖了搖頭。這一刻，我的心情立馬跌落谷底，我揣測(cè)并意識(shí)到她的看法，也看出她沒(méi)有同情心。我最后還是指出了她的不對(duì)。但有什么可說(shuō)的?她再三道歉，我也接受了，但我知道我們之間再也回不去了。海倫讓我學(xué)會(huì)了到底什么樣的人才值得深入交往。這算是個(gè)教訓(xùn)。

2. The Friend You Let Down

2.你傷害過(guò)的朋友

Sarah and I met in college and instantly fell into an intense, sisterly friendship. I thought I would know her forever. After college, our lives diverged. I moved to New York City and started a career. Sarah moved back home, down south, got married and had kids way before I did. As the years passed, we had less and less in common, it seemed. I drifted farther and farther away. I stopped answering her calls. I was too young to understand that old friends are the ones who can remind you of who you once were. I was too young to know that while we may grow up and shed our younger selves like snakes molting skin, those selves are still important and we should keep close those who knew us when and remind us of the distance we’ve traveled. I didn’t yet know that there are many aspects of a friendship far more important than sharing a career, a neighborhood, a kid’s school, a life path. Sarah and I were connected on a level deeper than all that, and the fact that I’m not going to be pulling up my rocking chair next to hers in a nursing home some day makes me sad. I blew it. Sarah, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry.

薩拉和我在大學(xué)里一認(rèn)識(shí)，立馬就成了親密無(wú)間、情同姐妹的好朋友。我以為我們會(huì)是一輩子的好朋友。但大學(xué)畢業(yè)后，我們的生活就不再有交集。我去紐約拼事業(yè)，而薩拉回南部老家結(jié)婚生子，當(dāng)時(shí)的我離這樣的生活還遠(yuǎn)著呢。時(shí)光荏苒，我們的共同點(diǎn)似乎越變?cè)缴倭?。我離她也越來(lái)越遠(yuǎn)了。我不再回她的電話。當(dāng)時(shí)的我太年輕，不知道老朋友就是那些能使你回想起起自己曾經(jīng)模樣的人。當(dāng)時(shí)的我太年輕，不知道盡管我們?cè)介L(zhǎng)越大，像蛇蛻皮一樣不斷地摒棄曾經(jīng)的自己，但曾經(jīng)的自己依然重要，我們不應(yīng)遠(yuǎn)離那些了解我們何時(shí)啟程、行至何處的人。我當(dāng)時(shí)不知道，除了分享工作、鄰居、小孩學(xué)校和人生道路，一段友情中還有許許多多更加重要的方面。薩拉和我的情誼遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)不止這個(gè)層面。令我難過(guò)的是，我知道以后就算進(jìn)了養(yǎng)老院，我也不會(huì)把搖椅拉到她旁邊。是我毀了這段友誼。薩拉，如果你讀到這篇文章的話，我想和你說(shuō)聲對(duì)不起。

3. The One Who Was Just Too Close for Comfort

3.關(guān)系近得令人感到不舒服的人

Close your eyes for a moment. You’ll know just who I mean here, and it’s okay. You don’t need to say his name aloud. Maybe you’re married. Or he’s married. Or both. But you’ve envisioned a parallel life—one you will never live, and won’t ruin your perfectly wonderful life for—with this one. And this is no idle daydream. It’s just a little bit dangerous. When your eyes meet, you both feel it. Some small part of you wants to know what it would be like to be with him. You find yourself thinking: what harm could there be in a stolen afternoon? Of course you know the answer to this. So you need to keep your distance. A friendship doesn’t feel safe or possible. Dear reader, you need to lose him. You can’t keep him around. Okay. Now open your eyes. And count your blessings.

不妨把眼睛輕閉一會(huì)。你肯定知道我說(shuō)的是誰(shuí)，沒(méi)事兒。你不必大聲說(shuō)出他的名字。也許你已結(jié)婚成家，也許他已成家、或者你倆都已成家。但你一直在幻想和他在一起的生活，雖然永遠(yuǎn)不可能，但這樣想一想又不會(huì)破壞你現(xiàn)在的好日子。這不是無(wú)意義的白日夢(mèng)，可是有幾分危險(xiǎn)。每每眼神相接，你們彼此都感受得到。你心中懷著小小的渴望，想要知道如果當(dāng)初和他在一起會(huì)怎么樣。你發(fā)覺(jué)自己在想：就偷閑一個(gè)下午，和他在一起有什么不好?答案如何，你心里當(dāng)然有數(shù)。所以你需要和那個(gè)人保持距離。當(dāng)朋友既不穩(wěn)妥，又沒(méi)希望。親愛(ài)的讀者，你必須舍棄他，不能留在他身邊。好了，現(xiàn)在睜開(kāi)眼睛吧。知足常樂(lè)。

4.The Death You Never Saw Coming

4.突如其來(lái)的死亡

As the Buddha once famously said, life is suffering. To love is to lose. In the natural order of things, we will eventually lose our own parents and in the natural order of thing, this will happen after we’re already adults. Except when it doesn’t. I lost my dad when I was young—suddenly, in a car crash. I never had a chance to say goodbye. He never had a chance to see me grow from a messed up girl into a much-less-messed-up woman. He died worried about me. I live with this. And yet, his early death shaped and transformed me in enormously positive ways. I grew up. I’ve spent my life trying to make him proud. We metabolize these sudden losses like shocks to our system, and they continue to live inside of us like fault lines, like the traumas they are. Ask anyone who has experienced any kind of shocking loss and they will tell you: the air today is just like it was on that day; the scent of hibiscus, of an oil refinery, of powdered donuts, brings it back. And suddenly the tears pool in our eyes, our hearts crack open. We live in all the beautiful, human brokenness of these losses. Our awareness becomes our teacher. Perhaps it even helps us to embrace the ordinary as the amazing turn of circumstance that it is.

佛曰：人生在世，苦海無(wú)邊。心中所愛(ài)，終將逝去。我們終將長(zhǎng)大成人，父母終將垂垂逝去，這是自然法則。然而，有時(shí)意外發(fā)生得太突然，未必等到我們長(zhǎng)大。我年幼時(shí)，父親橫遭車(chē)禍，猝然離世。我沒(méi)來(lái)得及和他好好道別，他再也看不到我從愛(ài)惹事的毛丫頭長(zhǎng)成稍稍安分一點(diǎn)的大人。他至死仍掛念我，我此生都懷念他。但是，他的英年早逝深深改變了我，讓我更快懂事長(zhǎng)大，從此不斷努力，希望讓他驕傲。親人意外離世，我們只能默默消化。由此帶來(lái)的沖擊，隨著我們成長(zhǎng)，深入我們的內(nèi)在，像道道斷層，又像片片創(chuàng)傷。任何經(jīng)歷過(guò)親人意外離世的人都會(huì)說(shuō)，今天的空氣和那天比，并沒(méi)什么不同。木槿花的清新芬芳，煉油廠的刺鼻氣味，或者甜甜圈的誘人甜香，都能喚起那天的回憶。突然之間，我們就會(huì)熱淚盈眶，心如刀絞。人生在世，幾家哀愁，傷逝如此美麗，我們與之如影隨形。經(jīng)歷令我們學(xué)習(xí)成長(zhǎng)，或許還幫助我們看開(kāi)意外轉(zhuǎn)折，尋得平淡安寧。

5. The Death You Had to Face Day by Day

5.日日逼近的死亡

My mom died when I was already an adult—a mother myself. Her death was slow, expected. This made it no easier. Losses like this begin well before the person is gone, because we imagine the world going on without them. The anticipation of it is like a slow, steady burn. We become used to grieving. We hold their hands, press compresses to their wounds, watch as medication drips into their veins, all the while faced with the impossibility of our own powerlessness. This too, is beautiful, human brokenness.

母親去世時(shí)，我已經(jīng)長(zhǎng)大成人，已為人母。她雖然走得緩慢，也在料想之中，但同樣令人哀傷。這樣的傷痛在親人去世之前就已開(kāi)始，因?yàn)槲覀兛梢韵胍?jiàn)，哪怕他們?nèi)ナ?，地球照樣轉(zhuǎn)動(dòng)。想象沒(méi)有他們的世界，就像灼燒般緩慢持久。我們變得習(xí)于悲痛，緊握著他們的雙手，緊縛他們的傷口，緊盯著藥物滴滴注入他們的靜脈，時(shí)時(shí)刻刻，被自己的無(wú)能為力和無(wú)力回天所逼視。但這也是人類美麗的傷逝。

6. The Therapist/Guru/Mentor You Outgrew

6.完成己任的師者

Certain relationships have a built-in expiration date—or at least, they should. After all, the point of having a therapist, a teacher, a guru, a mentor, is to grow – and that very evolution will eventually mean that the relationship comes to close. In the best cases, that intense bond we feel with someone who has helped us tremendously can morph and become something else—something more equal—perhaps even a friendship. For that to happen, though, we have to become willing to lose the dynamic of a relationship that has been, in effect, one-sided. We have been helped. Someone has done the helping. And now perhaps we can discover just how far we’ve come.

有些關(guān)系固將完結(jié)，或至少該有完結(jié)的一天。畢竟，導(dǎo)師的意義在于幫助我們成長(zhǎng)，無(wú)論是哪種導(dǎo)師，成長(zhǎng)的過(guò)程都必將導(dǎo)致師徒關(guān)系終結(jié)。在最好的情況下，我們與恩師的深厚情誼會(huì)蛻變至一種更加平等的狀態(tài)，甚至可能化為友誼。但是，要實(shí)現(xiàn)這點(diǎn)，我們就要摒棄原有的互動(dòng)關(guān)系，之前只是導(dǎo)師單方面的付出。我們接受了教誨，師尊也完成了教誨。我們現(xiàn)在或許可以知道自己到底獲得多少成長(zhǎng)了。

7. The Person You Thought You’d Be

7.夢(mèng)想成為的人

When I was a kid, I thought I would grow up to be an actress. I thought I would live in New York City, in a high-rise apartment building, with my husband and family of, oh, five or six kids. I thought I’d live an urban, impossibly sophisticated life. Money would be no object. Perhaps there would be a private plane. (I should mention here that these fantasies were firmly rooted in the 1980’s.) Well, I grew up and left the city for the country. I married and had one child—an only child, just like I had been. My husband and I work hard to make ends meet. But my life – my rich, imperfect, complicated, contented life—is the one I’ve built for myself. It’s an honest life. It’s a life of integrity. It’s a life I love. But to have it, I had to lose my fantasy straight out of the pages of a magazine of what it was that I thought I wanted – of who I thought I was. I was underselling myself, it turned out. To love, to really live is to become willing to lose people, places, things, dreams, even to lose versions of ourselves that no longer serve us. And in place of what is lost, something new emerges. It may not be what we imagined. But it is beautiful and it is ours.

小時(shí)候，我夢(mèng)想長(zhǎng)大后能成為女演員。我想和丈夫在紐約市的高層公寓里安家，嗯，然后再生五六個(gè)孩子。我要住在城區(qū)，最好能過(guò)上精致奢侈的生活。有大把大把的錢(qián)，至少得有一部私人飛機(jī)。此處我要說(shuō)，在20世紀(jì)80年代，這可算是根深蒂固的幻想。但實(shí)際上，長(zhǎng)大后我從市里搬到了村里，婚后只生了一個(gè)孩子，孩子和我一樣，是獨(dú)生子女。我和丈夫拼命工作，勉強(qiáng)糊口。但是這是我自己打拼出來(lái)的生活，豐富多彩，雖然算不上完美，但是不會(huì)單調(diào)乏味，也算心滿意足。問(wèn)心無(wú)愧，腳踏實(shí)地，我熱愛(ài)這樣的生活。但要過(guò)好這樣的日子，就必須把我曾渴望的東西、想要成為的人，這一套從雜志里照搬來(lái)的幻想統(tǒng)統(tǒng)摒棄。結(jié)果，我算是賠本了。大膽去愛(ài)，真切活著，就是要敢于放手：人、地方、物質(zhì)、夢(mèng)想，甚至敢于拋卻那些不再適宜現(xiàn)有生活的自我。舊的失去之后，總有新的再來(lái)。雖然未必事事如愿，但這終歸是真正屬于我們的美好生活。