The Art of Living
The art of living is to know when to hold fast and when to let go. For life is a paradox: it enjoins us to cling to its many gifts even while it ordains their eventual relinquishment. The rabbis of old put it this way:" A man comes to this world with his fist clenched, but when he dies, his hand is open."
Surely we ought to hold fast to life, for it is wondrous, and full of a beauty that breaks through every pore of God' s own earth. We know that this is so, but all too often we recognize this truth only in our backward glance when we remember what was and then suddenly realize that it is no more.
We remember a beauty that faded, a love that waned. But we remember with far greater pain that we did not see that beauty when it flowered, that we failed to respond with love when it was tendered.
A recent experience re-taught me this truth. I was hospitalized following a severe heart attack and had been in intensive care for several days. It was not a pleasant place.
One morning, I had to have some additional tests. The required machines were located in a building at the opposite end of the hospital, so I had to be wheeled across the courtyard on a gurney.
As we emerged from our unit, the sunlight hit me. That's all there was to my experience. Just the light of the sun. And yet how beautiful it was -- how warming, how sparking, how brilliant! I looked to see whether anyone else relished the sun's golden glow, but everyone was hurrying to and fro, most with eyes fixed on the ground. Then I remembered how often I, too, had been indifferent to the grandeur of each day, too preoccupied with petty and sometimes even mean concerns to respond from that experience is really as commonplace as was the experience itself: life's gifts are precious -- but we are too heedless of them.
Here then is the first pole of life' s paradoxical demands on us : Never too busy for the wonder and the awe of life. Be reverent before each dawning day. Embrace each hour. Seize each golden minute.
Hold fast to life...but not so fast that you cannot let go. This is the second side of life' s coin, the opposite pole of its paradox: we must accept our losses, and learn how to let go.
This is not an easy lesson to learn, especially when we are young and think that the world is ours to command, that whatever we desire with the full force of our passionate being can, nay, will, be ours. But then life moves along to confront us with realities, and slowly but surely this truth dawns upon us.
At every stage of life we sustain losses -- and grow in the process. We begin our independent lives only when we emerge from the womb and lose its protective shelter. We enter a progression of schools, then we leave our mothers and fathers and our childhood homes. We get married and have children and then have to let them go. We confront the death of our parents and our spouses. We face the gradual or not so gradual waning of our strength. And ultimately, as the parable of the open and closed hand suggests, we must confront the inevitability of our own demise, losing ourselves as it were, all that we were or dreamed to be.
人生的藝術(shù)就是,要知道何時(shí)該緊緊把握以及何時(shí)該放棄。因?yàn)槿松褪且粚?duì)矛盾,它既讓我們要抓住人生的多種賜予,同時(shí)又迫使我們到頭來不得不放棄。正如前輩們所言:人出生時(shí)雙拳緊握而來,去世時(shí)卻是松手而去。
我們當(dāng)然應(yīng)該抓緊這神奇而美妙的生命,因?yàn)樗拿溃錆M了我們這片神圣土地的每一個(gè)角落。其實(shí),這個(gè)道理我們都懂,可是我們卻常常只有在回首往事時(shí),才突然覺醒意識(shí)到其中之美,可為時(shí)已晚,一切都時(shí)過境遷。
我們深深銘記的是褪色的美,消逝的愛。但是這種記憶卻飽含苦澀:我們痛惜沒有在美麗綻放的時(shí)候注意到它,沒有在愛情到來的時(shí)候給出積極的回應(yīng)。
最近我自己的一個(gè)經(jīng)歷又令我悟出了這其中的道理。我因?yàn)閲?yán)重的心臟病發(fā)作而住進(jìn)了加護(hù)病房,那可不是個(gè)好呆的地方。
一天上午時(shí)分,我要接受幾項(xiàng)輔助檢查。因?yàn)闄z查的器械在醫(yī)院對(duì)面的一幢建筑中,所以我就要穿過庭院,躺在輪床上被推到那里。
就在從病房出來的那一瞬,迎面的陽(yáng)光一下子灑在我的身上。我所感受的就只有這陽(yáng)光,但它卻是如此美麗,如此溫暖,如此璀璨和輝煌!
我看看周圍是否有人也沉醉在這金色的陽(yáng)光中,而事實(shí)是大家都來去匆匆,大都目不斜視,雙眼只顧盯著地面。繼而我就想到我平常也太過于沉湎于日常的瑣碎俗物中,而對(duì)身邊的美景漠然,甚至是視而不見。
從這次的經(jīng)歷中我所獲得的感悟,就像這個(gè)經(jīng)歷本身一樣并無什么奇特之處:生活的恩賜是珍貴的――只是我們對(duì)此留心甚少。
于是人生的第一個(gè)方面就是:不要太過于忙碌而忽視了人生的美好,和失去對(duì)生命的敬畏。虔誠(chéng)地迎接每個(gè)黎明的到來。把握每個(gè)小時(shí),抓住寶貴的分分秒秒。
緊緊地把握人生,但是又不能抓得過死,松不開手。這正是人生的另外一面,也就是矛盾的另外一面:我們要接受失去的一切,懂得如何放手。
其實(shí)這個(gè)并不是容易做到的,尤其當(dāng)我們尚年輕時(shí),自以為世界在我們的掌控之中,而不論什么,只要我們以滿腔熱情、全力以赴,就會(huì)心想事成!但是現(xiàn)實(shí)往往事與愿違,然后漸漸地這第二條真理接踵而來。
在人生的每個(gè)階段,我們都會(huì)承受失去――也因此成長(zhǎng)起來。我們出生的同時(shí)也失去母體的保護(hù),從那一刻我們開始了獨(dú)立的生命。而后我們上學(xué),一級(jí)一級(jí)地升上去,接著又得離開父母和兒時(shí)的家。我們結(jié)婚生子,然后又眼睜睜地看著他們離去;我們?cè)庥龈改讣皭廴说碾x逝。我們也要面臨自己逐漸,或者突然的衰老。而最終,就像握手和松手的比喻那樣,我們必須面對(duì)自己不可避免的死亡。就這樣,我們失去了一切,包括我們已經(jīng)所擁有的和尚未實(shí)現(xiàn)的。