今天小站上看到一個道歉啟事. 甲網友向乙網友道歉(此匿名). 事情是這樣的. 甲喜歡一邊貼照片, 一邊寫一些文章. 這一次, 他不例外. 乙一直都很喜歡甲的文章和照片, 所以都去捧場. 這一次也不例外. 乙說, 這些照片的層次真的是好棒的說...(類似的句子). 甲竟然回了一個留言說, 這樣的句子不好. 是下等的台灣人才這樣用. 講話很直, 用的辭彙很強烈. 於是, 乙說, 他再也不來甲的論串了. 所以甲網友就登了這個道歉啟事.
這讓我看到很有趣的現象. 台灣的內鬨, 自台灣的留學生來看, 尤其是對文化有很深厚感情的, 是錐心刺骨. 當然這也要看年紀. 不同年紀的留學生, 不同的反應. 但是, 最有趣的地方還在於, 近廿年來的台灣文化似被一些上述的台灣留學生認為與台獨有絕對的關係. 在這點上, 大陸人則一點都無這種感覺. 大多數對這件事情的反應是, 認為這是台灣的網路語法. 他們和台獨無正式關係. 在我現在看就是, 他們把台灣看成就是台灣一省. 這樣的語法, 不過就是台灣特色罷了. 但是, 在廿年之前, 台灣的語法不是這樣的. 這是民國八十五年之後, 越來越本省化的結果. 是的, 愈來愈把自己的地位縮小到一個地理位置的結果.
可是, 我還是認為不能把這語法當作是下等台灣人才這樣用. 這位甲網友似乎非常看重某些生活上的禮儀. 這對他自己和孩子無可厚非. 但是, 要把這當作全中華民國的標準, 不僅困難, 也很有問題. 他想必理性上也知道. 但是, 感情上卻無法自已. 而這也是我所害怕的. 我覺得即使是那些台灣人不認為自己是中國人, 他們的言行在我眼裡仍出不了中國的文化. 除非有一天他們講英文. 但是, 他這種心情我卻是可以了解的. 因為我也曾把這種語法看做是和台獨一塊兒的. 去了幾次台灣之後, 我卻愈來愈不在乎. 而且, 語法的演變不是一般人所可以左右, 台灣這種地方意識的抬頭是很正常的事情. 但是, 他的心情我可以了解. 對於島上那些努力於宣傳拋棄自身文化的中國人, 這種撕心的痛是很容易理解的. 但是, 大陸人卻不見得了解了.
讓我提醒自己的是, 不能被政治上的情感衝昏頭. 以致於文化上的理性被淹沒了.
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
Monday, March 07, 2011
我的四個假想敵／余光中
二女幼珊在港參加僑生聯考，以第一志願分發台大外文系。聽到這消息，我鬆了一口氣，從此不必擔心四個女兒通通嫁給廣東男孩了。
我對廣東男孩當然並無偏見，在港六年，我班上也有好些可愛的廣東少年，頗討老師的歡心，但是要我把四個女兒全都讓那些“靚仔”、“叻仔”擄掠了去，卻捨不得。不過，女兒要嫁誰，說得灑脫些，是她們的自由意志，說得玄妙些呢，是因緣，做父親的又何必患得患失呢？何況在這件事上，做母親的往往位居要衝，自然而然成了女兒的親密顧問，甚至親密戰友，作戰的對象不是男友，卻是父親。等到做父親的驚醒過來，早已腹背受敵，難挽大勢了。
在父親的眼裡，女兒最可愛的時候是在十歲以前，因為那時她完全屬於自己。在男友的眼裡，她最可愛的時候卻在十七歲以後，因為這時她正像畢業班的學生，已經一心向外了。父親和男友，先天上就有矛盾。對父親來說，世界上沒有東西比稚齡的女兒更完美的了，唯一的缺點就是會長大，除非你用急凍術把她久藏，不過這恐怕是違法的，而且她的男友遲早會騎了駿馬或摩托車來，把她吻醒。
我未用太空艙的凍眠術，一任時光催迫，日月輪轉，再揉眼時，怎麼四個女兒都已依次長大，昔日的童話之門砰地一關，再也回不去了。四個女兒，依次是珊珊、幼珊、佩珊、季珊。簡直可以排成一條珊瑚礁。珊珊十二歲的那年，有一次，未滿九歲的佩珊忽然對來訪的客人說：「喂，告訴你，我姐姐是一個少女了！」在座的大人全笑了起來。
曾幾何時，惹笑的佩珊自己，甚至最幼稚的季珊，也都在時光的魔杖下，點化成“少女”了。冥冥之中，有四個“少男”正偷偷襲來，雖然躡手躡足，屏聲止息，我卻感到背後有四雙眼睛，像所有的壞男孩那樣，目光灼灼，心存不軌，只等時機一到，便會站到亮處，裝出偽善的笑容，叫我岳父。
我當然不會應他。哪有這麼容易的事！我像一棵果樹，天長地久在這裡立了多年，風霜雨露，樣樣有份，換來果實累累，不勝負荷。而你，偶爾過路的小子，竟然一伸手就來摘果子，活該蟠地的樹根絆你一跤！
而最可惱的，卻是樹上的果子，竟有自動落入行人手中的樣子。樹怪行人不該擅自來摘果子，行人卻說是果子剛好掉下來，給他接著罷了。這種事，總是裡應外合才成功的。當初我自己結婚，不也是有一位少女開門揖盜嗎？“堡壘最容易從內部攻破”，說得真是不錯。不過彼一時也，此一時也。同一個人，過街時討厭汽車，開車時卻討厭行人。現在是輪到我來開車。
好多年來，我已經習於和五個女人為伍，浴室裡彌漫著香皂和香水氣味，沙發上散置皮包和發卷，餐桌上沒有人和我爭酒，都是天經地義的事。戲稱吾廬為“女生宿舍”，也已經很久了。做了“女生宿舍”的舍監，自然不歡迎陌生的男客，尤其是別有用心的一類。但自己轄下的女生，尤其是前面的三位，已有“不穩”的現象，卻令我想起葉慈的一句詩：
一切已崩潰，失去重心。
我的四個假想敵，不論是高是矮，是胖是瘦，是學醫還是學文，遲早會從我疑懼的迷霧裡顯出原形，一一走上前來，或迂回曲折，囁嚅其詞，或開門見山，大言不慚，總之要把他的情人，也就是我的女兒，對不起，從此領去。無形的敵人最可怕，何況我在亮處，他在暗裡，又有我家的“內奸”接應，真是防不勝防。只怪當初沒有把四個女兒及時冷藏，使時間不能拐騙，社會也無由污染。現在她們都已大了，回不了頭。我那四個假想敵，那四個鬼鬼祟祟的地下工作者，也都已羽毛豐滿，什么力量都阻止不了他們了。先下手為強，這件事，該趁那四個假想敵還在襁褓的時候，就予以解決的。至少美國詩人納許（Ｏｇｄｅｎ Ｎａｓｈ，１９０２～１９７１）勸我們如此。他在一首妙詩《由女嬰之父來唱的歌》（Ｓｏｎｇ ｔｏ Ｂｅ Ｓｕｎｇ ｂｙ ｔｈｅＦａｔｈｅｒ ｏｆ Ｉｎｆａｎｔ Ｆｅｍａｌｅ Ｃｈｉｌｄｒｅｎ）之中，說他生了女兒吉兒之后，惴惴不安，感到不知什麼地方正有個男嬰也在長大，現在雖然還渾渾噩噩，口吐白沫，卻注定將來會搶走他的吉兒。於是做父親的每次在公園裡看見嬰兒車中的男嬰，都不由神色一變，暗暗想：「會不會是這傢伙？」
想著想著，他“殺機陡萌”，便要解開那男嬰身上的別針，朝他的爽身粉裡撒胡椒粉，把鹽撒進他的奶瓶，把沙撒進他的菠菜汁，再扔頭悠游的鱷魚到他的嬰兒車裡陪他游戲，逼他在水深火熱之中掙扎而去，去娶別人的女兒。足見詩人以未來的女婿為假想敵，早已有了前例。
不過一切都太遲了。當初沒有當機立斷，採取非常措施，像納許詩中所說的那樣，真是一大失策。如今的局面，套一句史書上常見的話，已經是“寇入深矣！”女兒的牆上和書桌的玻璃墊下，以前的海報和剪報之類，還是披頭，拜絲，大衛，凱西弟的形象，現在紛紛都換上男友了。至少，灘頭陣地已經被入侵的軍隊占領了去，這一仗是必敗的了。記得我們小時，這一類的照片仍被列為機密要件，不是藏在枕頭套裡，貼著夢境，便是夾在書堆深處，偶爾翻出來神往一翻，哪有這麼二十四小時眼前供奉的？
這一批形跡可疑的假想敵，究竟是哪年哪月開始入侵廈門街余宅的，已經不可考了。只記得六年前遷港之后，攻城的軍事便換了一批口操粵語少年來接手。至於交戰的細節，就得問名義上是守城的那幾個女將，我這位“昏君”是再也搞不清的了。只知道敵方的炮火，起先是瞄准我家的信箱，那些歪歪斜斜的筆跡，久了也能猜個七分；繼而是集中在我家的電話，“落彈點”就在我書桌的背後，我的文苑就是他們的沙場，一夜之間，總有十幾次腦震蕩。那些粵音平上去入，有九聲之多，也令我難以研判敵情。現在我帶幼珊回了廈門街，那頭的廣東部隊輪到我太太去抵擋，我在這頭，只要留意台灣健兒，任務就輕松多了。
信箱被襲，只如戰爭的默片，還不打緊。其實我寧可多情的少年勤寫情書，那樣至少可以練習作文，不致在視聽教育的時代荒廢了中文。可怕的還是電話中彈，那一串串警告的鈴聲，把戰場從門外的信箱擴至書房的腹地，默片變成了身歷其聲，假想敵在實彈射擊了。更可怕的，卻是假想敵真的闖進了城來，成了有血有肉的真敵人，不再是假想了好玩的了，就像軍事演習到中途，忽然真的打起來了一樣。真敵人是看得出來的。在某一女兒的接應之下，他占領了沙發的一角，從此兩人呢喃細語。囁嚅密談，即使脈脈相對的時候，那氣氛也濃得化不開，窒得全家人都透不過氣來。這時幾個姐妹早已回避得遠遠的了，任誰都看得出情況有異。萬一敵人留下來吃飯，那空氣就更為緊張，好像擺好姿勢，面對照相機一般。平時鴨塘一般的餐桌，四姐妹這時像在演啞劇，連筷子和調羹都似乎得到了消息，忽然小心翼翼起來。明知這僭越的小子未必就是真命女婿，（誰曉得寶貝女兒現在是十八變中的第幾變呢？）心裡卻不由自主升起一股淡淡的敵意。也明知女兒正如將熟之瓜，終有一天會蒂落而去，卻希望不是隨眼前這自負的小子。
當然，四個女兒也自有不乖的時候，在惱怒的心情下，我就恨不得四個假想敵趕快出現，把她們統統帶走。但是那一天真要來到時，我一定又會懊悔不已。我能夠想象，人生的兩大寂寞，一是退休之日，一是最小的孩子終於也結婚之後。宋淇有一天對我說：「真羡慕你的女兒全在身邊！」真的嗎？至少目前我並不覺得，自己有什麼可羡之處。也許真要等到最小的季珊也跟著假想敵度蜜月去了，才會和我存並坐在空空的長沙發上，翻閱她們小時相簿，追憶從前，六人一車長途壯游的盛況，或是晚餐桌上，熱氣蒸騰，大家共享的燦爛燈光。人生有許多事情，正如船後的波紋，總要過後才覺得美的。這麼一想，又希望那四個假想敵，那四個生手笨腳的小伙子，還是多吃幾口閉門羹，慢一點出現吧。
袁枚寫詩，把生女兒說成“情疑中副車”，這書袋掉得很有意思，卻也流露了重男輕女的封建意識。照袁枚的說法，我是連中了四次副車，命中率夠高的了。余宅的四個小女孩現在變成了四個小婦人，在假想敵環伺之下，若問我擇婿有何條件，一時倒恐怕答不上來。沉吟半晌，我也許會說：「這件事情，上有月下老人的婚姻譜，誰也不能竄改，包括韋固，下有兩個海誓山盟的情人，‘二人同心，其利斷金’，我憑什麼要逆天拂人，梗在中間？何況終身大事，神秘莫測，事先無法推理，事後不能悔棋，就算交給２１世紀的電腦，恐怕也算不出什麼或然率來。倒不如故示慷慨，偽作輕鬆，搏一個開明父親的美名，到時候帶顆私章，去做主婚人就是了。」
問的人笑了起來，指著我說：：什麼叫做‘偽作輕鬆’？可見你心裡並不輕松。」
我當然不很輕松，否則就不是她們的父親了。例如人種的問題，就很令人煩惱。萬一女兒發痴，愛上一個聳肩攤手口香糖嚼個不停的小怪人，該怎麼辦呢？在理性上，我願意“有婿無類”，做一個大大方方的世界公民。但是在感情上，還沒有大方到讓一個臂毛如猿的小伙子把我的女兒抱過門檻。
現在當然不再是“嚴夷夏之防”的時代，但是一任單純的家庭擴充成一個小型的聯合國，也大可不必。問的人又笑了，問我可曾聽說混血兒的聰明超乎常人。我說：「聽過，但是我不希罕抱一個天才的‘混血孫’。我不要一個天才兒童叫我Ｇｒａｎｄｐａ，我要他叫我外公。」
問的人不肯罷休：「那麼省籍呢？」
「省籍無所謂，」我說。「我就是蘇閩聯姻的結果，還不壞吧？當初我母親從福建寫信回武進，說當地有人向她求婚。娘家大驚小怪，說‘那麼遠！怎麼就嫁給南蠻！’後來娘家發現，除了言語不通之外，這位閩南姑爺並無可疑之處。這幾年，廣東男孩鍥而不舍，對我家的壓力很大，有一天閩粵結成了秦晉，我也不會感到意外。如果有個台灣少年特別巴結我，其志又不在跟我談文論詩，我也不會怎麼為難他的。至於其他各省，從黑龍江直到雲南，口操各種方言的少年，只要我女兒不嫌他，我自然也歡迎。」
「那麼學識呢？」
「學什麼都可以。也不一定要是學者，學者往往不是好女婿，更不是好丈夫。只有一點：中文必須精通。中文不通，將禍延吾孫！」
客又笑了。「相貌重不重要？」他再問。
「你真是迂闊之至！」這次輪到我發笑了。「這種事，我女兒自己會注意，怎麼會要我來操心？」
笨客還想問下去，忽然門鈴響起。我起身去開大門，發現長發亂處，又一個假想敵來掠余宅。
我對廣東男孩當然並無偏見，在港六年，我班上也有好些可愛的廣東少年，頗討老師的歡心，但是要我把四個女兒全都讓那些“靚仔”、“叻仔”擄掠了去，卻捨不得。不過，女兒要嫁誰，說得灑脫些，是她們的自由意志，說得玄妙些呢，是因緣，做父親的又何必患得患失呢？何況在這件事上，做母親的往往位居要衝，自然而然成了女兒的親密顧問，甚至親密戰友，作戰的對象不是男友，卻是父親。等到做父親的驚醒過來，早已腹背受敵，難挽大勢了。
在父親的眼裡，女兒最可愛的時候是在十歲以前，因為那時她完全屬於自己。在男友的眼裡，她最可愛的時候卻在十七歲以後，因為這時她正像畢業班的學生，已經一心向外了。父親和男友，先天上就有矛盾。對父親來說，世界上沒有東西比稚齡的女兒更完美的了，唯一的缺點就是會長大，除非你用急凍術把她久藏，不過這恐怕是違法的，而且她的男友遲早會騎了駿馬或摩托車來，把她吻醒。
我未用太空艙的凍眠術，一任時光催迫，日月輪轉，再揉眼時，怎麼四個女兒都已依次長大，昔日的童話之門砰地一關，再也回不去了。四個女兒，依次是珊珊、幼珊、佩珊、季珊。簡直可以排成一條珊瑚礁。珊珊十二歲的那年，有一次，未滿九歲的佩珊忽然對來訪的客人說：「喂，告訴你，我姐姐是一個少女了！」在座的大人全笑了起來。
曾幾何時，惹笑的佩珊自己，甚至最幼稚的季珊，也都在時光的魔杖下，點化成“少女”了。冥冥之中，有四個“少男”正偷偷襲來，雖然躡手躡足，屏聲止息，我卻感到背後有四雙眼睛，像所有的壞男孩那樣，目光灼灼，心存不軌，只等時機一到，便會站到亮處，裝出偽善的笑容，叫我岳父。
我當然不會應他。哪有這麼容易的事！我像一棵果樹，天長地久在這裡立了多年，風霜雨露，樣樣有份，換來果實累累，不勝負荷。而你，偶爾過路的小子，竟然一伸手就來摘果子，活該蟠地的樹根絆你一跤！
而最可惱的，卻是樹上的果子，竟有自動落入行人手中的樣子。樹怪行人不該擅自來摘果子，行人卻說是果子剛好掉下來，給他接著罷了。這種事，總是裡應外合才成功的。當初我自己結婚，不也是有一位少女開門揖盜嗎？“堡壘最容易從內部攻破”，說得真是不錯。不過彼一時也，此一時也。同一個人，過街時討厭汽車，開車時卻討厭行人。現在是輪到我來開車。
好多年來，我已經習於和五個女人為伍，浴室裡彌漫著香皂和香水氣味，沙發上散置皮包和發卷，餐桌上沒有人和我爭酒，都是天經地義的事。戲稱吾廬為“女生宿舍”，也已經很久了。做了“女生宿舍”的舍監，自然不歡迎陌生的男客，尤其是別有用心的一類。但自己轄下的女生，尤其是前面的三位，已有“不穩”的現象，卻令我想起葉慈的一句詩：
一切已崩潰，失去重心。
我的四個假想敵，不論是高是矮，是胖是瘦，是學醫還是學文，遲早會從我疑懼的迷霧裡顯出原形，一一走上前來，或迂回曲折，囁嚅其詞，或開門見山，大言不慚，總之要把他的情人，也就是我的女兒，對不起，從此領去。無形的敵人最可怕，何況我在亮處，他在暗裡，又有我家的“內奸”接應，真是防不勝防。只怪當初沒有把四個女兒及時冷藏，使時間不能拐騙，社會也無由污染。現在她們都已大了，回不了頭。我那四個假想敵，那四個鬼鬼祟祟的地下工作者，也都已羽毛豐滿，什么力量都阻止不了他們了。先下手為強，這件事，該趁那四個假想敵還在襁褓的時候，就予以解決的。至少美國詩人納許（Ｏｇｄｅｎ Ｎａｓｈ，１９０２～１９７１）勸我們如此。他在一首妙詩《由女嬰之父來唱的歌》（Ｓｏｎｇ ｔｏ Ｂｅ Ｓｕｎｇ ｂｙ ｔｈｅＦａｔｈｅｒ ｏｆ Ｉｎｆａｎｔ Ｆｅｍａｌｅ Ｃｈｉｌｄｒｅｎ）之中，說他生了女兒吉兒之后，惴惴不安，感到不知什麼地方正有個男嬰也在長大，現在雖然還渾渾噩噩，口吐白沫，卻注定將來會搶走他的吉兒。於是做父親的每次在公園裡看見嬰兒車中的男嬰，都不由神色一變，暗暗想：「會不會是這傢伙？」
想著想著，他“殺機陡萌”，便要解開那男嬰身上的別針，朝他的爽身粉裡撒胡椒粉，把鹽撒進他的奶瓶，把沙撒進他的菠菜汁，再扔頭悠游的鱷魚到他的嬰兒車裡陪他游戲，逼他在水深火熱之中掙扎而去，去娶別人的女兒。足見詩人以未來的女婿為假想敵，早已有了前例。
不過一切都太遲了。當初沒有當機立斷，採取非常措施，像納許詩中所說的那樣，真是一大失策。如今的局面，套一句史書上常見的話，已經是“寇入深矣！”女兒的牆上和書桌的玻璃墊下，以前的海報和剪報之類，還是披頭，拜絲，大衛，凱西弟的形象，現在紛紛都換上男友了。至少，灘頭陣地已經被入侵的軍隊占領了去，這一仗是必敗的了。記得我們小時，這一類的照片仍被列為機密要件，不是藏在枕頭套裡，貼著夢境，便是夾在書堆深處，偶爾翻出來神往一翻，哪有這麼二十四小時眼前供奉的？
這一批形跡可疑的假想敵，究竟是哪年哪月開始入侵廈門街余宅的，已經不可考了。只記得六年前遷港之后，攻城的軍事便換了一批口操粵語少年來接手。至於交戰的細節，就得問名義上是守城的那幾個女將，我這位“昏君”是再也搞不清的了。只知道敵方的炮火，起先是瞄准我家的信箱，那些歪歪斜斜的筆跡，久了也能猜個七分；繼而是集中在我家的電話，“落彈點”就在我書桌的背後，我的文苑就是他們的沙場，一夜之間，總有十幾次腦震蕩。那些粵音平上去入，有九聲之多，也令我難以研判敵情。現在我帶幼珊回了廈門街，那頭的廣東部隊輪到我太太去抵擋，我在這頭，只要留意台灣健兒，任務就輕松多了。
信箱被襲，只如戰爭的默片，還不打緊。其實我寧可多情的少年勤寫情書，那樣至少可以練習作文，不致在視聽教育的時代荒廢了中文。可怕的還是電話中彈，那一串串警告的鈴聲，把戰場從門外的信箱擴至書房的腹地，默片變成了身歷其聲，假想敵在實彈射擊了。更可怕的，卻是假想敵真的闖進了城來，成了有血有肉的真敵人，不再是假想了好玩的了，就像軍事演習到中途，忽然真的打起來了一樣。真敵人是看得出來的。在某一女兒的接應之下，他占領了沙發的一角，從此兩人呢喃細語。囁嚅密談，即使脈脈相對的時候，那氣氛也濃得化不開，窒得全家人都透不過氣來。這時幾個姐妹早已回避得遠遠的了，任誰都看得出情況有異。萬一敵人留下來吃飯，那空氣就更為緊張，好像擺好姿勢，面對照相機一般。平時鴨塘一般的餐桌，四姐妹這時像在演啞劇，連筷子和調羹都似乎得到了消息，忽然小心翼翼起來。明知這僭越的小子未必就是真命女婿，（誰曉得寶貝女兒現在是十八變中的第幾變呢？）心裡卻不由自主升起一股淡淡的敵意。也明知女兒正如將熟之瓜，終有一天會蒂落而去，卻希望不是隨眼前這自負的小子。
當然，四個女兒也自有不乖的時候，在惱怒的心情下，我就恨不得四個假想敵趕快出現，把她們統統帶走。但是那一天真要來到時，我一定又會懊悔不已。我能夠想象，人生的兩大寂寞，一是退休之日，一是最小的孩子終於也結婚之後。宋淇有一天對我說：「真羡慕你的女兒全在身邊！」真的嗎？至少目前我並不覺得，自己有什麼可羡之處。也許真要等到最小的季珊也跟著假想敵度蜜月去了，才會和我存並坐在空空的長沙發上，翻閱她們小時相簿，追憶從前，六人一車長途壯游的盛況，或是晚餐桌上，熱氣蒸騰，大家共享的燦爛燈光。人生有許多事情，正如船後的波紋，總要過後才覺得美的。這麼一想，又希望那四個假想敵，那四個生手笨腳的小伙子，還是多吃幾口閉門羹，慢一點出現吧。
袁枚寫詩，把生女兒說成“情疑中副車”，這書袋掉得很有意思，卻也流露了重男輕女的封建意識。照袁枚的說法，我是連中了四次副車，命中率夠高的了。余宅的四個小女孩現在變成了四個小婦人，在假想敵環伺之下，若問我擇婿有何條件，一時倒恐怕答不上來。沉吟半晌，我也許會說：「這件事情，上有月下老人的婚姻譜，誰也不能竄改，包括韋固，下有兩個海誓山盟的情人，‘二人同心，其利斷金’，我憑什麼要逆天拂人，梗在中間？何況終身大事，神秘莫測，事先無法推理，事後不能悔棋，就算交給２１世紀的電腦，恐怕也算不出什麼或然率來。倒不如故示慷慨，偽作輕鬆，搏一個開明父親的美名，到時候帶顆私章，去做主婚人就是了。」
問的人笑了起來，指著我說：：什麼叫做‘偽作輕鬆’？可見你心裡並不輕松。」
我當然不很輕松，否則就不是她們的父親了。例如人種的問題，就很令人煩惱。萬一女兒發痴，愛上一個聳肩攤手口香糖嚼個不停的小怪人，該怎麼辦呢？在理性上，我願意“有婿無類”，做一個大大方方的世界公民。但是在感情上，還沒有大方到讓一個臂毛如猿的小伙子把我的女兒抱過門檻。
現在當然不再是“嚴夷夏之防”的時代，但是一任單純的家庭擴充成一個小型的聯合國，也大可不必。問的人又笑了，問我可曾聽說混血兒的聰明超乎常人。我說：「聽過，但是我不希罕抱一個天才的‘混血孫’。我不要一個天才兒童叫我Ｇｒａｎｄｐａ，我要他叫我外公。」
問的人不肯罷休：「那麼省籍呢？」
「省籍無所謂，」我說。「我就是蘇閩聯姻的結果，還不壞吧？當初我母親從福建寫信回武進，說當地有人向她求婚。娘家大驚小怪，說‘那麼遠！怎麼就嫁給南蠻！’後來娘家發現，除了言語不通之外，這位閩南姑爺並無可疑之處。這幾年，廣東男孩鍥而不舍，對我家的壓力很大，有一天閩粵結成了秦晉，我也不會感到意外。如果有個台灣少年特別巴結我，其志又不在跟我談文論詩，我也不會怎麼為難他的。至於其他各省，從黑龍江直到雲南，口操各種方言的少年，只要我女兒不嫌他，我自然也歡迎。」
「那麼學識呢？」
「學什麼都可以。也不一定要是學者，學者往往不是好女婿，更不是好丈夫。只有一點：中文必須精通。中文不通，將禍延吾孫！」
客又笑了。「相貌重不重要？」他再問。
「你真是迂闊之至！」這次輪到我發笑了。「這種事，我女兒自己會注意，怎麼會要我來操心？」
笨客還想問下去，忽然門鈴響起。我起身去開大門，發現長發亂處，又一個假想敵來掠余宅。
廁所的故事---阿盛
開始念小學那一年，我第一次看見衛生紙，至於正式使用，是在二年級的時候，在這之前，解手後都是用竹片子或黃麻稈一揩了事。大人們的廁所在房間內，用花布簾圍住壁角，裡邊放著馬桶；小孩子們沒有限制，水溝、牆角、甘蔗田以及任何可以蹲下來的地方，統統是廁所。
在學校裡，老師天天交代我們：要穿鞋子，要常洗頭髮，要買衛生紙，不要隨地大小便。我回家跟爸說要買鞋子，爸說沒那麼「好命」；我提起衛生紙的好處，媽說那太浪費，小孩子不懂賺錢的辛苦；我又引用老師的話，說用竹片子揩屁股會生痔瘡，爸生氣了，他說老師一定瘋了，因為他從一歲到二十多歲都是這樣，也沒生過痔瘡；我小聲地說，應該有廁所，祖父說，奇怪，水溝不是很多嗎？最後爸解釋說，衛生紙太薄，容易破，揩不乾淨。這以後，媽准許我用粗草紙，那是大人們用的，不過，我還是寧可用竹片子，粗草紙就帶到學校讓老師檢查，我們班上有一半以上的同學都和我一樣，老師也不再要我們買衛生紙了。
二年級下學期，三姑帶著表弟從臺北來我家玩，吃過中飯，表弟說要上廁所，我帶他到門前的水溝邊，他很驚訝，硬是不肯脫下褲子，是說沒有東西擋著他拉不出來，我帶他到豬舍旁邊，他蹲在地上，不時看著我，然後站起來，說是也拉不出來，我只好走開，隔一陣子就喊：「好了沒有？」表弟苦著臉走出來對我說沒有，我拉起他跑到學校，他急忙衝進廁所，出來之後，滿頭大汗。在回家的路上，他一直問我：為什麼廁所裡沒有水箱子？為什麼有很多很多白白小小的蟲？還有，在水溝裡拉屎，警察為什麼不管？我說警察的兒子也和我們一樣，他就說，回臺北以後要報告老師，叫老師來抓警察，我聽了感到很生氣，跟他說，警察和真平、四郎一樣偉大，不能抓，他不相信，還說校長可以管老師，老師可以管警察，真平和四郎跟總統一樣大，不是跟警察一樣大，我氣極了，不再理他。
三年級放寒假的時候，爸和叔叔們合資蓋了一間廁所。「落成」那天，我們幾個小孩子熱烈地討論誰應該第一個使用，六叔把我們趕開，他說他是高中生，當然是第一。他進去了，一下子又走出來，很不高興的樣子，原來，有人先進去過了，六叔一口咬定是那個泥水匠，他嘀咕著說要找泥水匠算帳，我們建議六叔把他抓來灌屎，像灌香腸一樣，六叔說好。那天晚上，爸和叔叔們在院子裡聊天，聊到這件事，二叔說，新廁所有外來的「黃金」，大吉大利，六叔不同意，他認為新廁所應該由自己人開張，才有新氣象，爸沒有意見。我對爸說，六叔只知道拉屎要爭第一，六叔一巴掌打在我屁股上，媽說該打。我很不甘心，跑去告訴祖父，祖父走出來，把六叔罵了一頓：「你吃飯爭第一，拉屎爭第一，為什麼英文只考了二十──二十──」，我說二十七分，祖父接下去：「二十七分！啊？」五叔在一旁笑，他說這也可以算第一，六叔說，五哥以前數學只考二十四分，烏龜笑鱉沒尾巴，祖父說：「都是尿桶！」過後，我問六叔，還要不要把泥水匠抓來灌屎，他說我以後再這麼問，他就灌我。
我升上五年級，村長換了人，新村長說，要好好整頓村裡的環境衛生。首先，他出錢蓋了四幢公用廁所，又一家接一家地勸人蓋廁所，他跟祖父說，廁所和吃飯一樣重要，祖父說那有這種事！一有空，他就騎著腳踏車到處巡視，發現有小孩隨地大小便，當場打屁股，我們班上有好幾個男生被他打過，都很氣他，叫他「哭鐵面」。每次開村民大會，他一定會再三地說明廁所的重要性，有一次還說「廁所就是生命」，六叔跑到臺上去，不知道跟他說了些什麼，他馬上又補充了一句：「廁所為成家之本！」末了，他建議大家不要再用竹片麻稈揩屁股，因為這樣會得破傷風，有人站起來發言，說不會得破傷風，應該是會生糞口蟲，我們學校一位女老師立刻又發言，她認為應該是生痔瘡才對，然後指導員出來解釋，他說，應該是會長瘤才合理，他的一個朋友就是這樣。到後來，村長說：「統統有可能，不過，得破傷風的機會最大。」那一次大會後有贈送紀念品，每家三包衛生紙，兩包樟腦丸，一把長柄豬鬃刷子，鄉裡派來的衛生員特別交代，刷子是清洗廁所用的，媽說這種刷子這麼好，用來洗刷廁所太可惜，所以一直放在廚房裡使用。
初一那年冬天，嘉南平原大地震，震塌了村裡兩幢公用廁所，救災工作結束之後，村長開始計畫重建廁所，村長太太負責募捐工作，她幾乎天天都在村子裡跑來跑去，那陣子，米菜肥料都缺貨，物價又貴，村長太太跑了兩個禮拜，還湊不到蓋一幢廁所的錢。又過了幾天，鄰村有個有錢人到我們村子來，他說他願意負責蓋廁所的經費，條件是，水肥歸他收一年，村裡的人開會通過，半個月後，廁所蓋好了，還裝了水箱，那個有錢人每天派車子來載水肥，聽說他包辦了好幾個村子的水肥，轉手賣給魚塭和農家，一桶二十五塊錢。過了一陣子，他問村長，為什麼你們這裡的水肥特別少？村長說，本來就這麼些，他不相信，硬說有人偷肥，村長說那東西又不能吃，誰要偷？兩個人先是在路上吵，一直吵到派出所，又吵回路上，然後再吵進派出所。警察耐心地分析：這裡的人八成以上種甘蔗，根本不要肥料，村長保證沒有人偷去吃，那個有錢人氣得臉都歪了，他嘀咕著說，這樣下去會賠本，生意真不好做，怎麼大家不多拉一點？怎麼不多拉一點呢？大約一個月後，政府大量配給農肥，接著肥料兩次跌價，那個有錢人再不派車來載水肥了，村長把他找來，要他按照契約清理水肥，他說要那麼多幹什麼？又不能吃！兩個人又到派出所去，結果，一直到我念初二上學期，他都派車清理水肥，一個月一次。有一次，六叔在路上遇見他，問他水肥好不好賣？他說生意不好做；六叔又問他，想不想再跟我們村子訂契約？他說只有瘋到第三期的人才會這樣問。
我讀高一的時候，鄉裡舉辦中北部春節旅行，我也參加。第一天晚上，住在臺中火車站附近的一家旅館，這才第一次看見了抽水馬桶，以前只看過圖片。住進旅館以後，大家都往廁所裡跑，鄉長站在一邊維持秩序，一面叫著慢慢來，他說留得屎橛在，那怕沒得拉？等輪到我，我一頭衝進去，看見抽水馬桶，心裡有點害怕，還好我知道是用坐的，坐了上去，也不知怎麼搞的，幾乎用了兩百公斤的力量，仍然拉不出來，外頭敲門敲得很急，我在裡邊更急，好一陣子，看看是不會有「結果」了，只好出來，身上直冒汗，鄉長問：好啦？我說好了。那天晚上，好不容易熬到廁所空了，我才放心地走進去，蹲在馬桶上；以後的兩天，我都是這樣。第四天早上，我們正在整理行李，旅館的老闆娘氣沖沖的跑來，她說不知道是那些人弄壞了三個馬桶護圈，我們都說，那一定不是我們，老闆娘嘮叨了許久，她說護圈是新裝上的，怎麼坐得斷？真奇怪！
去年暑假，我回家鄉，找六叔聊天，聊起有關廁所的事。我對六叔的幾個孩子說，你們命好，我們小時候連廁所都沒有呢，他們不太相信。我說不但這樣，解手後都用竹片子揩屁股哪，他們說我欺騙兒童。六叔說，這是真的。八歲的小堂弟說，他要去報告級任老師，爸爸和堂哥愛撒謊；十歲的堂妹說，最好報告校長，因為校長比較「匈奴」，一定會打堂哥屁股；正在念初一的堂弟說，爸爸是石松，堂哥是余天，搭配得很好，真會「講笑話」。最後，他們聯合問我們一個問題：用竹片可以揩得乾淨嗎？六叔說大概可以，我說差不多啦。
──發表於一九七八年三月
最近在看張曉風主編的一個散文集, 三十年來的散文精選--錦繡天地好文章. 實在是好看到死... 這是其中一篇.
在學校裡，老師天天交代我們：要穿鞋子，要常洗頭髮，要買衛生紙，不要隨地大小便。我回家跟爸說要買鞋子，爸說沒那麼「好命」；我提起衛生紙的好處，媽說那太浪費，小孩子不懂賺錢的辛苦；我又引用老師的話，說用竹片子揩屁股會生痔瘡，爸生氣了，他說老師一定瘋了，因為他從一歲到二十多歲都是這樣，也沒生過痔瘡；我小聲地說，應該有廁所，祖父說，奇怪，水溝不是很多嗎？最後爸解釋說，衛生紙太薄，容易破，揩不乾淨。這以後，媽准許我用粗草紙，那是大人們用的，不過，我還是寧可用竹片子，粗草紙就帶到學校讓老師檢查，我們班上有一半以上的同學都和我一樣，老師也不再要我們買衛生紙了。
二年級下學期，三姑帶著表弟從臺北來我家玩，吃過中飯，表弟說要上廁所，我帶他到門前的水溝邊，他很驚訝，硬是不肯脫下褲子，是說沒有東西擋著他拉不出來，我帶他到豬舍旁邊，他蹲在地上，不時看著我，然後站起來，說是也拉不出來，我只好走開，隔一陣子就喊：「好了沒有？」表弟苦著臉走出來對我說沒有，我拉起他跑到學校，他急忙衝進廁所，出來之後，滿頭大汗。在回家的路上，他一直問我：為什麼廁所裡沒有水箱子？為什麼有很多很多白白小小的蟲？還有，在水溝裡拉屎，警察為什麼不管？我說警察的兒子也和我們一樣，他就說，回臺北以後要報告老師，叫老師來抓警察，我聽了感到很生氣，跟他說，警察和真平、四郎一樣偉大，不能抓，他不相信，還說校長可以管老師，老師可以管警察，真平和四郎跟總統一樣大，不是跟警察一樣大，我氣極了，不再理他。
三年級放寒假的時候，爸和叔叔們合資蓋了一間廁所。「落成」那天，我們幾個小孩子熱烈地討論誰應該第一個使用，六叔把我們趕開，他說他是高中生，當然是第一。他進去了，一下子又走出來，很不高興的樣子，原來，有人先進去過了，六叔一口咬定是那個泥水匠，他嘀咕著說要找泥水匠算帳，我們建議六叔把他抓來灌屎，像灌香腸一樣，六叔說好。那天晚上，爸和叔叔們在院子裡聊天，聊到這件事，二叔說，新廁所有外來的「黃金」，大吉大利，六叔不同意，他認為新廁所應該由自己人開張，才有新氣象，爸沒有意見。我對爸說，六叔只知道拉屎要爭第一，六叔一巴掌打在我屁股上，媽說該打。我很不甘心，跑去告訴祖父，祖父走出來，把六叔罵了一頓：「你吃飯爭第一，拉屎爭第一，為什麼英文只考了二十──二十──」，我說二十七分，祖父接下去：「二十七分！啊？」五叔在一旁笑，他說這也可以算第一，六叔說，五哥以前數學只考二十四分，烏龜笑鱉沒尾巴，祖父說：「都是尿桶！」過後，我問六叔，還要不要把泥水匠抓來灌屎，他說我以後再這麼問，他就灌我。
我升上五年級，村長換了人，新村長說，要好好整頓村裡的環境衛生。首先，他出錢蓋了四幢公用廁所，又一家接一家地勸人蓋廁所，他跟祖父說，廁所和吃飯一樣重要，祖父說那有這種事！一有空，他就騎著腳踏車到處巡視，發現有小孩隨地大小便，當場打屁股，我們班上有好幾個男生被他打過，都很氣他，叫他「哭鐵面」。每次開村民大會，他一定會再三地說明廁所的重要性，有一次還說「廁所就是生命」，六叔跑到臺上去，不知道跟他說了些什麼，他馬上又補充了一句：「廁所為成家之本！」末了，他建議大家不要再用竹片麻稈揩屁股，因為這樣會得破傷風，有人站起來發言，說不會得破傷風，應該是會生糞口蟲，我們學校一位女老師立刻又發言，她認為應該是生痔瘡才對，然後指導員出來解釋，他說，應該是會長瘤才合理，他的一個朋友就是這樣。到後來，村長說：「統統有可能，不過，得破傷風的機會最大。」那一次大會後有贈送紀念品，每家三包衛生紙，兩包樟腦丸，一把長柄豬鬃刷子，鄉裡派來的衛生員特別交代，刷子是清洗廁所用的，媽說這種刷子這麼好，用來洗刷廁所太可惜，所以一直放在廚房裡使用。
初一那年冬天，嘉南平原大地震，震塌了村裡兩幢公用廁所，救災工作結束之後，村長開始計畫重建廁所，村長太太負責募捐工作，她幾乎天天都在村子裡跑來跑去，那陣子，米菜肥料都缺貨，物價又貴，村長太太跑了兩個禮拜，還湊不到蓋一幢廁所的錢。又過了幾天，鄰村有個有錢人到我們村子來，他說他願意負責蓋廁所的經費，條件是，水肥歸他收一年，村裡的人開會通過，半個月後，廁所蓋好了，還裝了水箱，那個有錢人每天派車子來載水肥，聽說他包辦了好幾個村子的水肥，轉手賣給魚塭和農家，一桶二十五塊錢。過了一陣子，他問村長，為什麼你們這裡的水肥特別少？村長說，本來就這麼些，他不相信，硬說有人偷肥，村長說那東西又不能吃，誰要偷？兩個人先是在路上吵，一直吵到派出所，又吵回路上，然後再吵進派出所。警察耐心地分析：這裡的人八成以上種甘蔗，根本不要肥料，村長保證沒有人偷去吃，那個有錢人氣得臉都歪了，他嘀咕著說，這樣下去會賠本，生意真不好做，怎麼大家不多拉一點？怎麼不多拉一點呢？大約一個月後，政府大量配給農肥，接著肥料兩次跌價，那個有錢人再不派車來載水肥了，村長把他找來，要他按照契約清理水肥，他說要那麼多幹什麼？又不能吃！兩個人又到派出所去，結果，一直到我念初二上學期，他都派車清理水肥，一個月一次。有一次，六叔在路上遇見他，問他水肥好不好賣？他說生意不好做；六叔又問他，想不想再跟我們村子訂契約？他說只有瘋到第三期的人才會這樣問。
我讀高一的時候，鄉裡舉辦中北部春節旅行，我也參加。第一天晚上，住在臺中火車站附近的一家旅館，這才第一次看見了抽水馬桶，以前只看過圖片。住進旅館以後，大家都往廁所裡跑，鄉長站在一邊維持秩序，一面叫著慢慢來，他說留得屎橛在，那怕沒得拉？等輪到我，我一頭衝進去，看見抽水馬桶，心裡有點害怕，還好我知道是用坐的，坐了上去，也不知怎麼搞的，幾乎用了兩百公斤的力量，仍然拉不出來，外頭敲門敲得很急，我在裡邊更急，好一陣子，看看是不會有「結果」了，只好出來，身上直冒汗，鄉長問：好啦？我說好了。那天晚上，好不容易熬到廁所空了，我才放心地走進去，蹲在馬桶上；以後的兩天，我都是這樣。第四天早上，我們正在整理行李，旅館的老闆娘氣沖沖的跑來，她說不知道是那些人弄壞了三個馬桶護圈，我們都說，那一定不是我們，老闆娘嘮叨了許久，她說護圈是新裝上的，怎麼坐得斷？真奇怪！
去年暑假，我回家鄉，找六叔聊天，聊起有關廁所的事。我對六叔的幾個孩子說，你們命好，我們小時候連廁所都沒有呢，他們不太相信。我說不但這樣，解手後都用竹片子揩屁股哪，他們說我欺騙兒童。六叔說，這是真的。八歲的小堂弟說，他要去報告級任老師，爸爸和堂哥愛撒謊；十歲的堂妹說，最好報告校長，因為校長比較「匈奴」，一定會打堂哥屁股；正在念初一的堂弟說，爸爸是石松，堂哥是余天，搭配得很好，真會「講笑話」。最後，他們聯合問我們一個問題：用竹片可以揩得乾淨嗎？六叔說大概可以，我說差不多啦。
──發表於一九七八年三月
最近在看張曉風主編的一個散文集, 三十年來的散文精選--錦繡天地好文章. 實在是好看到死... 這是其中一篇.
Sunday, March 06, 2011
Question after Bollywood
One question after watching few Bollywood movies. Or, more precisely, one question was found after discussing Bollywood movies with my mom.
The question is:
How come there are so many dancing and singing in Bollywood movies, but not with Chinese movies?
The same question could apply to the Hollywood movie as well... How come there were many musicals back then, but so few now? What has been changed in the USA society?
I only saw one musical Chinese movie, which was from Hong Kong in 1960s. I saw many singing and some dancing from the clips on Youtube. Those were from Hong Kong between 1950s and 1960s as well. And frankly, I never saw those before I knew Youtube. I did not even dreamed it would exist.
During the discussion with my mom, she thought that the previous 100+ years of turmoil prevented Chinese from habit of dancing and singing. But India was colonized for few hundred years, I said. And many of them are still poor these days. I thought the Chinese intellectuals would be a factor since the culture was recorded by them throughout history. They failed to present a good picture of what we sang and danced in the old days.
But as I am writing these, I think India could really be an exceptional case. For I saw a few foreign films from Japan, Korea, England, France, Russia, German, Scandinavian, Africa, USA, South America, Spain...etc. There were not many of musicals in those Countries as far as I know. I would thought Africa would have many musicals. I did not see many African movies though. There were quite a few African American musicals. Anyway, I am still wondering why Chinese people don't dance and sing as much. As their classics said music was important, why didn't they dance and sing more, in movies, and in daily lives?
Interesting thought recorded.
The question is:
How come there are so many dancing and singing in Bollywood movies, but not with Chinese movies?
The same question could apply to the Hollywood movie as well... How come there were many musicals back then, but so few now? What has been changed in the USA society?
I only saw one musical Chinese movie, which was from Hong Kong in 1960s. I saw many singing and some dancing from the clips on Youtube. Those were from Hong Kong between 1950s and 1960s as well. And frankly, I never saw those before I knew Youtube. I did not even dreamed it would exist.
During the discussion with my mom, she thought that the previous 100+ years of turmoil prevented Chinese from habit of dancing and singing. But India was colonized for few hundred years, I said. And many of them are still poor these days. I thought the Chinese intellectuals would be a factor since the culture was recorded by them throughout history. They failed to present a good picture of what we sang and danced in the old days.
But as I am writing these, I think India could really be an exceptional case. For I saw a few foreign films from Japan, Korea, England, France, Russia, German, Scandinavian, Africa, USA, South America, Spain...etc. There were not many of musicals in those Countries as far as I know. I would thought Africa would have many musicals. I did not see many African movies though. There were quite a few African American musicals. Anyway, I am still wondering why Chinese people don't dance and sing as much. As their classics said music was important, why didn't they dance and sing more, in movies, and in daily lives?
Interesting thought recorded.
書鈔: Emotional Intelligence
"These interpersonal abilities build on other emotional intelligences. People who make an excellent social impression, for example, are adept at monitoring their own expression of emotion, are keenly attuned to the ways others are reacting, and so are able to continually fine-tune their social performance, adjusting it to make sure they are having the desired effect. In that sense, they are like skilled actors.
However, if these interpersonal abilities are not balanced out by an astute sense of one' own needs and feelings and how to fulfill them, they can lead to a hollow social success--a popularity won at the cost of one's true satisfaction. Such is the argument of Mark Snyder, a University of Minnesota psychologist who has studied people whose social skills make them first-rate social chameleons, champions at making a good impression. Their psychological credo might well be a remark by W. H. Auden, who said that his private image of himself "is very different from the image which I try to create in the minds of others in order they may love me." That trade-off can be made if social skills outstrip the ability to know and honor one's own feelings; in order to be loved--or at least liked--the social chameleon will seem to be whatever those he is with seem to want. The sign that someone falls into this pattern, Snyder finds, is that they make an excellent impression, yet have few stable or satisfying intimate relationships. A more healthy pattern, of course, is to balance being true to oneself with social skills, using them with integrity.
Social chameleons, though, don't mind in the least saying one thing and doing another, if that will win them social approval. They simply live with the discrepancy between their public face and their private reality. Helena Deutsch, a psychoanalyst, called such people the "as-if personality," shifting personas with remarkable plasticity as they pick up signals from those around them. "For some people," Snyder told me, "the public and private person meshes well, while for others there seems to be only a kaleidoscope of changing appearances. They are like Woody Allen's Zelig, madly trying to fit in with whomever they are with."
Such people try to scan someone for a hint as to what is wanted from them before they make a response, rather than simply saying what they truly feel. To get along and be liked, they are willing to make people they dislike think the are friendly with them. And they use their social abilities to mold their actions as disparate social situations demand, so that they may act like very different people depending on whom they are with, swinging from bubbly sociability, say, to reserved withdrawal. To be sure, to the extent that these traits lead to effective impression management, they are highly prized in certain professions, notably acting, trial law, sales, diplomacy, and politics.
Another, perhaps more crucial kind of self-monitoring seems to make the difference between those who end up as anchorless social chameleons, trying to impress everyone, and those who can use their social polish more in keeping with their true feelings. That is the capacity to be true, as the saying has it, "to thine own self," which allows acting in accord with one's deepest feelings and values no mater what the social consequences. Such emotional integrity could well lead to, say, deliberately provoking a confrontation in order to cut through duplicity or denial--a clearing of the air that a social chameleon would never attempt."
Excerpt from p. 119-120 The Social Arts, Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman, 2005 edition
However, if these interpersonal abilities are not balanced out by an astute sense of one' own needs and feelings and how to fulfill them, they can lead to a hollow social success--a popularity won at the cost of one's true satisfaction. Such is the argument of Mark Snyder, a University of Minnesota psychologist who has studied people whose social skills make them first-rate social chameleons, champions at making a good impression. Their psychological credo might well be a remark by W. H. Auden, who said that his private image of himself "is very different from the image which I try to create in the minds of others in order they may love me." That trade-off can be made if social skills outstrip the ability to know and honor one's own feelings; in order to be loved--or at least liked--the social chameleon will seem to be whatever those he is with seem to want. The sign that someone falls into this pattern, Snyder finds, is that they make an excellent impression, yet have few stable or satisfying intimate relationships. A more healthy pattern, of course, is to balance being true to oneself with social skills, using them with integrity.
Social chameleons, though, don't mind in the least saying one thing and doing another, if that will win them social approval. They simply live with the discrepancy between their public face and their private reality. Helena Deutsch, a psychoanalyst, called such people the "as-if personality," shifting personas with remarkable plasticity as they pick up signals from those around them. "For some people," Snyder told me, "the public and private person meshes well, while for others there seems to be only a kaleidoscope of changing appearances. They are like Woody Allen's Zelig, madly trying to fit in with whomever they are with."
Such people try to scan someone for a hint as to what is wanted from them before they make a response, rather than simply saying what they truly feel. To get along and be liked, they are willing to make people they dislike think the are friendly with them. And they use their social abilities to mold their actions as disparate social situations demand, so that they may act like very different people depending on whom they are with, swinging from bubbly sociability, say, to reserved withdrawal. To be sure, to the extent that these traits lead to effective impression management, they are highly prized in certain professions, notably acting, trial law, sales, diplomacy, and politics.
Another, perhaps more crucial kind of self-monitoring seems to make the difference between those who end up as anchorless social chameleons, trying to impress everyone, and those who can use their social polish more in keeping with their true feelings. That is the capacity to be true, as the saying has it, "to thine own self," which allows acting in accord with one's deepest feelings and values no mater what the social consequences. Such emotional integrity could well lead to, say, deliberately provoking a confrontation in order to cut through duplicity or denial--a clearing of the air that a social chameleon would never attempt."
Excerpt from p. 119-120 The Social Arts, Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman, 2005 edition
番茄牛肉
材料:
牛肉切片醃, 醃料: 蔥薑醬油酒, 太白粉, 其他額外,像是滷醩
六個番茄, 過油燒爛
筍切片
荸薺切片
胡蘿蔔切片
扁豆
洋蔥(額外)
過程:
醃過的牛肉快炒八分熟, 起鍋
洋蔥過油炒出味道, 起鍋(額外)
筍過油炒
洋蔥筍荸薺胡蘿蔔拌入番茄, 如果水不夠多, 加水
煮四十分鐘
加醬油糖白醋鹽巴, 不能多
加入扁豆後, 大火滾
加入牛肉, 大火拌廿秒
移開爐子
完成
這是媽媽跟白阿姨學的. 白阿姨是以前我們在景美的鄰居. 後來我們搬到金華街的時候, 他來幫媽媽帶我和我妹妹. 媽媽說, 他們在景美的時後就很好. 好像是那時候, 媽媽去白阿姨加吃飯的時候學到的.
昨天媽媽去見證人姊妹盒子會時, 他帶的主菜就是這道. 自從他們說要舉辦這次聚會,媽媽就用力想著要帶啥. 因為他們說這次是 Chinese Food 聚會. 這些姊妹說他們都會帶中國菜， 媽媽聽了就有點緊張. 接下來的一個星期， 一會兒說要做滷肉, 一會兒說要做番茄牛肉, 又要帶涼拌蓮藕, 或者是涼拌馬蘭頭， 都無法做決定. 前天在市場買材料的時候， 他終於決定了要做番茄牛肉和馬蘭頭. 涼拌蓮藕也做了, 只是沒做好, 他也就沒有帶去.
他從聚餐回來後, 顯的很愉快. 他說,他到的時候， 那群姊妹都說， 啊， Ｃｈｉｎｅｓｅ Ｆｏｄｄ ｉｓ ｈｅｒｅ！ 他聽了覺得很有趣， 走到餐桌旁才發現， 原來， 這些外國姊妹都是去普通的美國中餐館買了一些外賣． 他一時啼笑皆非． 那些中餐館的實在是不怎麼好吃． 媽媽帶去的菜很受歡迎． 都吃掉一大半． 尤其是馬蘭頭！原來那些老姊妹都說， 現在更喜歡吃蔬菜了！
他們在聚會的時候先是唱歌唱了兩小時， 又是玩 Ａｐｐｌｅ ｔｏ Ａｐｐｌｅ 的遊戲． 媽媽還贏了一次． 他說他拿到牌子的時候都會偷笑， 覺得他拿的牌都很好！ 他玩回來的時候真是滿肚子的有聲有色． 小瑋那時剛好打電話回來， 那時是十點， 他興奮的跟小瑋描述有趣的事情． 真是好玩．
牛肉切片醃, 醃料: 蔥薑醬油酒, 太白粉, 其他額外,像是滷醩
六個番茄, 過油燒爛
筍切片
荸薺切片
胡蘿蔔切片
扁豆
洋蔥(額外)
過程:
醃過的牛肉快炒八分熟, 起鍋
洋蔥過油炒出味道, 起鍋(額外)
筍過油炒
洋蔥筍荸薺胡蘿蔔拌入番茄, 如果水不夠多, 加水
煮四十分鐘
加醬油糖白醋鹽巴, 不能多
加入扁豆後, 大火滾
加入牛肉, 大火拌廿秒
移開爐子
完成
這是媽媽跟白阿姨學的. 白阿姨是以前我們在景美的鄰居. 後來我們搬到金華街的時候, 他來幫媽媽帶我和我妹妹. 媽媽說, 他們在景美的時後就很好. 好像是那時候, 媽媽去白阿姨加吃飯的時候學到的.
昨天媽媽去見證人姊妹盒子會時, 他帶的主菜就是這道. 自從他們說要舉辦這次聚會,媽媽就用力想著要帶啥. 因為他們說這次是 Chinese Food 聚會. 這些姊妹說他們都會帶中國菜， 媽媽聽了就有點緊張. 接下來的一個星期， 一會兒說要做滷肉, 一會兒說要做番茄牛肉, 又要帶涼拌蓮藕, 或者是涼拌馬蘭頭， 都無法做決定. 前天在市場買材料的時候， 他終於決定了要做番茄牛肉和馬蘭頭. 涼拌蓮藕也做了, 只是沒做好, 他也就沒有帶去.
他從聚餐回來後, 顯的很愉快. 他說,他到的時候， 那群姊妹都說， 啊， Ｃｈｉｎｅｓｅ Ｆｏｄｄ ｉｓ ｈｅｒｅ！ 他聽了覺得很有趣， 走到餐桌旁才發現， 原來， 這些外國姊妹都是去普通的美國中餐館買了一些外賣． 他一時啼笑皆非． 那些中餐館的實在是不怎麼好吃． 媽媽帶去的菜很受歡迎． 都吃掉一大半． 尤其是馬蘭頭！原來那些老姊妹都說， 現在更喜歡吃蔬菜了！
他們在聚會的時候先是唱歌唱了兩小時， 又是玩 Ａｐｐｌｅ ｔｏ Ａｐｐｌｅ 的遊戲． 媽媽還贏了一次． 他說他拿到牌子的時候都會偷笑， 覺得他拿的牌都很好！ 他玩回來的時候真是滿肚子的有聲有色． 小瑋那時剛好打電話回來， 那時是十點， 他興奮的跟小瑋描述有趣的事情． 真是好玩．
Thursday, March 03, 2011
A man and his own self awareness
A man and his own self awareness is important. But how to achieve self awareness is different from person to person. Some people were born with a great sense of self awareness. He has many ways to feel his own presence such as, smarter than other people, calmer than other people, more courageous than other people. He might be able to accomplish more things. He might be more certain on things he has done. But for some, there are uncertainties. They might have self expectation too high to reach by themselves. Their internal senses might not be as sharp to perceive the world around him.
But for most people. The self awareness has to come from doing things. It would require laboring physically, interacting with other people, or thinking and feeling internally. For most people, self awareness could come most easily from physical accomplishment like, a carpenter finished a sculpture, or fixed a chair. Most people would love to call out to other people so they can see what they have been doing. In a way, they would like other people to acknowledge their existence, and more. Because, existence is only existence. How to exist is basic to self awareness as we human, especially to the more educated ones.
An architect realized his project from his blueprints into a physical standing structure. People will see it and said, wow. A carpenter would wish for that as well. A cook prepared a great dish, he would love people to come and enjoy the food. For those people, their accomplishments are visible. It is easier to present. But what about the others, like a policeman? What if this policeman never made an arrest and under his watch, the traffic were always smooth? After his retirement, how can people tell he in the lines of duty, accomplished a great deal for his community? What about a teacher? And most importantly, what about parents?
I heard an old saying somewhere, I forgot where. It said that a Dad needs not his kids saying much about him, but a Mom needs. Because Mom takes care of her kids in the house, the people outside know not much. This would be somewhat odd in a modern world since many moms works outside today . The saying is an ancient one.
But for most people. The self awareness has to come from doing things. It would require laboring physically, interacting with other people, or thinking and feeling internally. For most people, self awareness could come most easily from physical accomplishment like, a carpenter finished a sculpture, or fixed a chair. Most people would love to call out to other people so they can see what they have been doing. In a way, they would like other people to acknowledge their existence, and more. Because, existence is only existence. How to exist is basic to self awareness as we human, especially to the more educated ones.
An architect realized his project from his blueprints into a physical standing structure. People will see it and said, wow. A carpenter would wish for that as well. A cook prepared a great dish, he would love people to come and enjoy the food. For those people, their accomplishments are visible. It is easier to present. But what about the others, like a policeman? What if this policeman never made an arrest and under his watch, the traffic were always smooth? After his retirement, how can people tell he in the lines of duty, accomplished a great deal for his community? What about a teacher? And most importantly, what about parents?
I heard an old saying somewhere, I forgot where. It said that a Dad needs not his kids saying much about him, but a Mom needs. Because Mom takes care of her kids in the house, the people outside know not much. This would be somewhat odd in a modern world since many moms works outside today . The saying is an ancient one.
Monday, February 28, 2011
地方與中央
正在看許倬雲教授的萬古江河. 有一個地方讓我突然很注意. 他講到說, 自從秦以後, 中國在政治制度上, 地方制度上, 最多三級制, 大多數都是二級制, 也就是郡縣制. 我最近看過的葛劍雄教授也提到這一點.
在封建的時候, 似乎很不一樣的. 因為封建是世襲. 而郡縣, 則是由中央選派官員到地任職. 官員多半不是當地人. 封建即使一開始不是當地人, 幾代下去也就變成當地人. 這是很有趣的事情. 因為, 拿美國來說, 各州, 這鄉鎮縣市, 都是當地人選出來的. 這情況更像封建, 而不像中國秦以後的地方制度.
中國這秦制度, 因為地方長官是中央選派的, 他應該是向中央負責嘍, 他對於地方上的責任是哪些呢? 美國各級地方首長是向地方人民負責, 不知道他們是否要向中央某些責任? 現在台灣的各級地方官員也都是地方選出來的. 大陸的各級地方長官書記好像是中央委派, 他們在行政上的利弊還有和其他台灣不一樣的地方不知道有無研究? 另外, 這樣比可能也不公平, 因為, 台灣各級地方縣市長似乎要受到地方議會的牽制(這點我不是很確定, 我是比照美國的制度). 而我在想, 受到中央委派的大陸地方官或許比較不需要受到地方議會的限制. 但是, 我也不是很確定.
由中央委派的官員到地方去, 我想好處應該是中央可以作巨大全國性的財務, 人員, 資源, 等等的變動. 但是, 因為是中央的人, 地方的聲音不見得能夠傳達. 而中央委派的地方長官在面對地方的要求時, 他的權限和職責似乎也很難分配. 地方和中央如果鬧起來, 這些官員要站在哪裡呢? 如果說, 仍是中央委派地方官員, 但是, 有一個類似美國的地方議會. 那這個官員和地方議會的關係應該是怎樣的呢? 地方議會一定是為地方著想, 中央官員呢?
由地方選出地方官員, 則這個地方官員必然會需要為地方服務. 那可是, 如果地方作出了違反中央的政策時, 那怎麼辦? 如果是由地方選出自己的官員, 那這些官員對於中央的權責是怎樣的呢?
這是一個很可怕的問題. 中國歷史上的分合在我現在看這是核心問題. 每一個朝代一開始, 中央都強. 可是, 越到後面, 中央總是愈來愈弱, 到了一定的時候, 一場大亂, 於是地方割據開始. 周朝就是這樣, 漢朝也是一樣, 晉更不用說, 唐也是一樣, 宋朝似乎沒有這樣, 但是我現在看宋朝和他的時代好像魏晉南北朝, 元朝只有一百年多一點, 明朝的話, 就象我在金庸茶館上看到的, 明朝南遷一下就煙消雲散, 清朝的話, 他的地方割據則要民國後才正式擴大顯現. 就算是現在的美國, 中央和地方的權責似乎仍然有很多問題! 再拿歐盟來說, 愛爾蘭, 希臘等國的破產, 造成西歐各國的慌張, 甚至有傳言說, 歐盟要分裂... 他們也有中央和地方的問題. 在二戰結束之前, 英帝國也有中央和地方緊張的形勢. 這是全世界政權的問題.
地方與中央的首要問題應該是, 到底是啥形成中央和地方? 是啥, 維繫了中央和地方. 即使是小如台灣, 也應該要問這個問題! 是否有實質利益問題? 是否有歷史問題? 是否有感情問題? 是否有利害關係? 是否因為志同道合? 是軍事力量? 因為, 這些還有其他的問題, 應該是決定地方制度的原因.
在封建的時候, 似乎很不一樣的. 因為封建是世襲. 而郡縣, 則是由中央選派官員到地任職. 官員多半不是當地人. 封建即使一開始不是當地人, 幾代下去也就變成當地人. 這是很有趣的事情. 因為, 拿美國來說, 各州, 這鄉鎮縣市, 都是當地人選出來的. 這情況更像封建, 而不像中國秦以後的地方制度.
中國這秦制度, 因為地方長官是中央選派的, 他應該是向中央負責嘍, 他對於地方上的責任是哪些呢? 美國各級地方首長是向地方人民負責, 不知道他們是否要向中央某些責任? 現在台灣的各級地方官員也都是地方選出來的. 大陸的各級地方長官書記好像是中央委派, 他們在行政上的利弊還有和其他台灣不一樣的地方不知道有無研究? 另外, 這樣比可能也不公平, 因為, 台灣各級地方縣市長似乎要受到地方議會的牽制(這點我不是很確定, 我是比照美國的制度). 而我在想, 受到中央委派的大陸地方官或許比較不需要受到地方議會的限制. 但是, 我也不是很確定.
由中央委派的官員到地方去, 我想好處應該是中央可以作巨大全國性的財務, 人員, 資源, 等等的變動. 但是, 因為是中央的人, 地方的聲音不見得能夠傳達. 而中央委派的地方長官在面對地方的要求時, 他的權限和職責似乎也很難分配. 地方和中央如果鬧起來, 這些官員要站在哪裡呢? 如果說, 仍是中央委派地方官員, 但是, 有一個類似美國的地方議會. 那這個官員和地方議會的關係應該是怎樣的呢? 地方議會一定是為地方著想, 中央官員呢?
由地方選出地方官員, 則這個地方官員必然會需要為地方服務. 那可是, 如果地方作出了違反中央的政策時, 那怎麼辦? 如果是由地方選出自己的官員, 那這些官員對於中央的權責是怎樣的呢?
這是一個很可怕的問題. 中國歷史上的分合在我現在看這是核心問題. 每一個朝代一開始, 中央都強. 可是, 越到後面, 中央總是愈來愈弱, 到了一定的時候, 一場大亂, 於是地方割據開始. 周朝就是這樣, 漢朝也是一樣, 晉更不用說, 唐也是一樣, 宋朝似乎沒有這樣, 但是我現在看宋朝和他的時代好像魏晉南北朝, 元朝只有一百年多一點, 明朝的話, 就象我在金庸茶館上看到的, 明朝南遷一下就煙消雲散, 清朝的話, 他的地方割據則要民國後才正式擴大顯現. 就算是現在的美國, 中央和地方的權責似乎仍然有很多問題! 再拿歐盟來說, 愛爾蘭, 希臘等國的破產, 造成西歐各國的慌張, 甚至有傳言說, 歐盟要分裂... 他們也有中央和地方的問題. 在二戰結束之前, 英帝國也有中央和地方緊張的形勢. 這是全世界政權的問題.
地方與中央的首要問題應該是, 到底是啥形成中央和地方? 是啥, 維繫了中央和地方. 即使是小如台灣, 也應該要問這個問題! 是否有實質利益問題? 是否有歷史問題? 是否有感情問題? 是否有利害關係? 是否因為志同道合? 是軍事力量? 因為, 這些還有其他的問題, 應該是決定地方制度的原因.
For augument's sake
A debate was scheduled
Teacher announced
Come one, come all
Whoever excellent in words
Whoever clever with a mouth
Come!
A debate is here
Those excellent in words
Those clever with their mouths
gathered around the teacher
He said, good
Now choose your side
Here's pro and
Here is con
Clever mouths chose their side
Excellent words picked their seats
Teacher then said,
commence
Mouths were clever
they finished their term
Words were excellent
came up with a burn
Mouths were loud and clear
Words were sharp and smoother
Each side were high
Each side were confident
Arguments were made
Points were countered
Mouths controlled their breath well
Words had great poise
At the end
Teacher seem'd swell
At the end
One side won, the other failed
Teacher announced
It's not a matter of win or lose
for argument's sake, please
for argument's sake, only.
in memory of any debate...
Teacher announced
Come one, come all
Whoever excellent in words
Whoever clever with a mouth
Come!
A debate is here
Those excellent in words
Those clever with their mouths
gathered around the teacher
He said, good
Now choose your side
Here's pro and
Here is con
Clever mouths chose their side
Excellent words picked their seats
Teacher then said,
commence
Mouths were clever
they finished their term
Words were excellent
came up with a burn
Mouths were loud and clear
Words were sharp and smoother
Each side were high
Each side were confident
Arguments were made
Points were countered
Mouths controlled their breath well
Words had great poise
At the end
Teacher seem'd swell
At the end
One side won, the other failed
Teacher announced
It's not a matter of win or lose
for argument's sake, please
for argument's sake, only.
in memory of any debate...
Saturday, February 26, 2011
和莉君的一個討論
今天和一個認識的人討論了一下真誠的問題. 那人是個 ABC, 所以我就用 sincere and genuine 來討論. 討論到最後, 他說他得要回去查字典...
一開始,他認為 sincere 和 genuine 是一樣的. 兩者都是要求真. sincere 和 genuine 就是內心發出來的感覺, 顯現在外表. 後來, 我說了鄧教授舉出的 中國人比較 sincere(真誠), 外國人比較真實(genuine). 他想想, 好像有道理. 他舉了一個例子. 他說假設美國人看到一個胖子, 他會說, you are beautiful. 但是, 一個中國人看到個胖子, 他的反應很可能是, 你怎麼那麼胖?! 你需要減肥! 他說, 美國人是 not genuine, but sincere. 而中國則是 genuine but not sincere. 我說可是這樣一來, sincere 除了內心和外表一致外, 還要加上令人舒服嗎? 那中國人的 genuine 似乎他心裡也是那樣感覺啊... 我們就從這裡開始糊塗了. 後來的討論越來越奇怪, 之後一片沉寂... 可以聽到烏鴉的聲音... lol
在討論中, 他有說過, 如果那個美國人說, you are beautiful, 可能他是從另一個角度說的, 譬如說他是說性格很美麗...而不光是表面. 如谷這樣那或許美國人還是可以說是 genuine... 在討論中, 我也曾把美國人的講話定位為 polite. 而這個朋友認為中國人的回答用 genuine 不見得合適, 可能 honest 更好. 這裡讓我想到很多很多.
首先, 美國人說的那一句話, 似乎真的在表演. 而中國人的那一句話, 也真的很像一個天真的小孩嘴裡說出來的話... lol
再來, 剛開始的時候, sincere 和 genuine 不經過那麼多轉折, 似乎分不出來有啥不一樣. 即使後來感到有不一樣, 我和他仍然無法在言詞上說出不同處在哪兒. 只有在把 sincere 換成 polite 來形容美國人的答案並且同時把形容中國人的那一個辭從 genuine 轉變成 honest, 之後, 我才感覺踏實了...
第三, 美國人那樣說, 如果有人指為不真實, 他還可以辯論說, 他是從另一個角度去看那胖子. 而不是向那個批評他的人膚淺的只看到胖子肥而已. 而中國人的答覆, 是...反覆不得啊... 美國人那樣說, 比較令人舒服. 而中國人那樣說, 比較衝... 美國人是否表演, 外面的人其實很難指責. 中國人的直, 卻很明顯可以指責為沒有禮貌...
第四, 好的演員, 能夠引起觀眾感同身受(empathy). 但是, 這時候, 演員不見得鐵定有這個感受. 演員實際上可以有真感情, 但是也可以是假的. 這個真假, 只有演員可以知道. 在戲劇裡, 觀眾只求那一時之間的感同身受, 因為感覺就是看戲劇的最大原因而不是考驗理智. 而感覺也並不一定要演員的表現, 音樂, 場景, 導演的其他安排都可以造成觀眾有所感動. 但是在生活上, 人如果只有外在的假裝, 而完全沒有內在的相應, 在長時間下, 原形幾乎必露!
第五, 我覺得我們一定不能把古人和今人看成不一樣. 他們也同樣有相同的要求, 以真誠來說, 孔子說過一句話: 子曰：“論篤是與，君子者乎？色莊者乎？” ［譯］孔子說：“聽到人議論篤實誠懇就表示贊許，但還應看他是真君子呢？還是偽裝莊重的人呢？” 這裡似乎是在找尋 sincerity...
第六, 但是, 這裡似乎也出現另一個問題. 那就是, 禮. 我們通常把 polite 翻譯成禮貌. 我聽過很多禮貌的玩笑. 譬如說, 一個日本人送客到門口, 主人鞠躬如儀, 客人也跟著鞠躬. 但是當主人鞠躬結束一抬頭, 夷, 客人還在彎腰鞠躬, 主人再次鞠躬, 客人一抬頭, 赫, 主人還沒行禮完畢, 客再鞠躬... 於是乎, 兩人鞠躬不停... 我看過另一個真事, 有一個人在網上抱怨, 他說, 我們現在總是說喜歡天真爛慢. 但是, 昨天我打電話去一個辦公室, 接電話的大概是一個廿歲的小姐, 一接電話就是, 幹啥麼?! 我跟他說了來意後, 他大落落的說, 這不關我們的事! 啪, 掛上電話. 這個人氣的... 如果有所謂的表演性, 在現在看, 其實就是古代的禮... 而那個美國人的答覆就是禮的一種體現.
第七, 但是, 當我在講禮的時候. 我卻往往要說, 我們提到禮. 是要分很多層次的. 就像鄧教授提到語言學. 我覺得, 我們提到禮就不能只用禮這個字. 而要分出禮儀, 禮貌, 法律, 制度... 原因是, 就像我前面提到的 sincere 和 genuine 在一開始的還沒正式討論前, 似乎無啥不同. 但是, 在討論後, 雖說我和我朋友說不出來不同處, 但是, 我相信他和我一樣感覺到有不同處. 而我必須要說, 以前的禮的觀念是寬廣的. 在孔子後的兩千五百多年, 禮的討論必須要以禮儀, 禮貌, 法律, 制度, 等等禮生出來的枝葉來進行討論. 而不能再用單字, 禮... 所以, 我和朋友的討論如果在繼續僵在 sincere 和 genuine, 必定不行. 因為 sincere 和 genuine 的意思之後可能變質. 還不如討論 politeness 和 honest 之間的微妙關係...
第八, 大多數人都是有時候真誠, 有時候假仙(台語, 假裝的樣子), 但是, 禮貌就是平時的潤滑劑. 我們有時候, 可能有很多時候, 心裡並不樂意和某人接觸的時候, 禮貌, 就是一種表演. 但是, 當我們真正悲傷或快樂的時候, 禮貌卻是一種舒發的管道. 那個胖子聽到美國人說他美的時候, 他可能心裡仍不這麼覺得, 但是, 和中國人一比起來, 我想信大多數的胖子, 一開始都會比較願意接近美國人而非中國人... 這種表演, 就算不能使人真正接近, 但是減少摩擦.
第九, 我看到一個胖子決對不會說, 你好胖得減肥... 大多數的美國人的確也不會這樣說, 至少我感覺... 我卻不能知道我一定會說啥... 我那朋友舉的例子實在有趣啊... lol
到此, 我已經不知道我自己在說啥了... 我這個人太簡單, 只要是長篇的文章, 我往往就失去文章的主題, 不知道文章到底想說啥... 我對自己寫的東西也一樣... 哈哈哈...
一開始,他認為 sincere 和 genuine 是一樣的. 兩者都是要求真. sincere 和 genuine 就是內心發出來的感覺, 顯現在外表. 後來, 我說了鄧教授舉出的 中國人比較 sincere(真誠), 外國人比較真實(genuine). 他想想, 好像有道理. 他舉了一個例子. 他說假設美國人看到一個胖子, 他會說, you are beautiful. 但是, 一個中國人看到個胖子, 他的反應很可能是, 你怎麼那麼胖?! 你需要減肥! 他說, 美國人是 not genuine, but sincere. 而中國則是 genuine but not sincere. 我說可是這樣一來, sincere 除了內心和外表一致外, 還要加上令人舒服嗎? 那中國人的 genuine 似乎他心裡也是那樣感覺啊... 我們就從這裡開始糊塗了. 後來的討論越來越奇怪, 之後一片沉寂... 可以聽到烏鴉的聲音... lol
在討論中, 他有說過, 如果那個美國人說, you are beautiful, 可能他是從另一個角度說的, 譬如說他是說性格很美麗...而不光是表面. 如谷這樣那或許美國人還是可以說是 genuine... 在討論中, 我也曾把美國人的講話定位為 polite. 而這個朋友認為中國人的回答用 genuine 不見得合適, 可能 honest 更好. 這裡讓我想到很多很多.
首先, 美國人說的那一句話, 似乎真的在表演. 而中國人的那一句話, 也真的很像一個天真的小孩嘴裡說出來的話... lol
再來, 剛開始的時候, sincere 和 genuine 不經過那麼多轉折, 似乎分不出來有啥不一樣. 即使後來感到有不一樣, 我和他仍然無法在言詞上說出不同處在哪兒. 只有在把 sincere 換成 polite 來形容美國人的答案並且同時把形容中國人的那一個辭從 genuine 轉變成 honest, 之後, 我才感覺踏實了...
第三, 美國人那樣說, 如果有人指為不真實, 他還可以辯論說, 他是從另一個角度去看那胖子. 而不是向那個批評他的人膚淺的只看到胖子肥而已. 而中國人的答覆, 是...反覆不得啊... 美國人那樣說, 比較令人舒服. 而中國人那樣說, 比較衝... 美國人是否表演, 外面的人其實很難指責. 中國人的直, 卻很明顯可以指責為沒有禮貌...
第四, 好的演員, 能夠引起觀眾感同身受(empathy). 但是, 這時候, 演員不見得鐵定有這個感受. 演員實際上可以有真感情, 但是也可以是假的. 這個真假, 只有演員可以知道. 在戲劇裡, 觀眾只求那一時之間的感同身受, 因為感覺就是看戲劇的最大原因而不是考驗理智. 而感覺也並不一定要演員的表現, 音樂, 場景, 導演的其他安排都可以造成觀眾有所感動. 但是在生活上, 人如果只有外在的假裝, 而完全沒有內在的相應, 在長時間下, 原形幾乎必露!
第五, 我覺得我們一定不能把古人和今人看成不一樣. 他們也同樣有相同的要求, 以真誠來說, 孔子說過一句話: 子曰：“論篤是與，君子者乎？色莊者乎？” ［譯］孔子說：“聽到人議論篤實誠懇就表示贊許，但還應看他是真君子呢？還是偽裝莊重的人呢？” 這裡似乎是在找尋 sincerity...
第六, 但是, 這裡似乎也出現另一個問題. 那就是, 禮. 我們通常把 polite 翻譯成禮貌. 我聽過很多禮貌的玩笑. 譬如說, 一個日本人送客到門口, 主人鞠躬如儀, 客人也跟著鞠躬. 但是當主人鞠躬結束一抬頭, 夷, 客人還在彎腰鞠躬, 主人再次鞠躬, 客人一抬頭, 赫, 主人還沒行禮完畢, 客再鞠躬... 於是乎, 兩人鞠躬不停... 我看過另一個真事, 有一個人在網上抱怨, 他說, 我們現在總是說喜歡天真爛慢. 但是, 昨天我打電話去一個辦公室, 接電話的大概是一個廿歲的小姐, 一接電話就是, 幹啥麼?! 我跟他說了來意後, 他大落落的說, 這不關我們的事! 啪, 掛上電話. 這個人氣的... 如果有所謂的表演性, 在現在看, 其實就是古代的禮... 而那個美國人的答覆就是禮的一種體現.
第七, 但是, 當我在講禮的時候. 我卻往往要說, 我們提到禮. 是要分很多層次的. 就像鄧教授提到語言學. 我覺得, 我們提到禮就不能只用禮這個字. 而要分出禮儀, 禮貌, 法律, 制度... 原因是, 就像我前面提到的 sincere 和 genuine 在一開始的還沒正式討論前, 似乎無啥不同. 但是, 在討論後, 雖說我和我朋友說不出來不同處, 但是, 我相信他和我一樣感覺到有不同處. 而我必須要說, 以前的禮的觀念是寬廣的. 在孔子後的兩千五百多年, 禮的討論必須要以禮儀, 禮貌, 法律, 制度, 等等禮生出來的枝葉來進行討論. 而不能再用單字, 禮... 所以, 我和朋友的討論如果在繼續僵在 sincere 和 genuine, 必定不行. 因為 sincere 和 genuine 的意思之後可能變質. 還不如討論 politeness 和 honest 之間的微妙關係...
第八, 大多數人都是有時候真誠, 有時候假仙(台語, 假裝的樣子), 但是, 禮貌就是平時的潤滑劑. 我們有時候, 可能有很多時候, 心裡並不樂意和某人接觸的時候, 禮貌, 就是一種表演. 但是, 當我們真正悲傷或快樂的時候, 禮貌卻是一種舒發的管道. 那個胖子聽到美國人說他美的時候, 他可能心裡仍不這麼覺得, 但是, 和中國人一比起來, 我想信大多數的胖子, 一開始都會比較願意接近美國人而非中國人... 這種表演, 就算不能使人真正接近, 但是減少摩擦.
第九, 我看到一個胖子決對不會說, 你好胖得減肥... 大多數的美國人的確也不會這樣說, 至少我感覺... 我卻不能知道我一定會說啥... 我那朋友舉的例子實在有趣啊... lol
到此, 我已經不知道我自己在說啥了... 我這個人太簡單, 只要是長篇的文章, 我往往就失去文章的主題, 不知道文章到底想說啥... 我對自己寫的東西也一樣... 哈哈哈...
Enoch Arden by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
ENOCH ARDEN
Long lines of cliff breaking have left a chasm;
And in the chasm are foam and yellow sands;
Beyond, red roofs about a narrow wharf
In cluster; then a moulder'd church; and higher
A long street climbs to one tall-tower'd mill;
And high in heaven behind it a gray down
With Danish barrows; and a hazelwood,
By autumn nutters haunted, flourishes
Green in a cuplike hollow of the down.
Here on this beach a hundred years ago,
Three children of three houses, Annie Lee,
The prettiest little damsel in the port,
And Philip Ray the miller's only son,
And Enoch Arden, a rough sailor's lad
Made orphan by a winter shipwreck, play'd
Among the waste and lumber of the shore,
Hard coils of cordage, swarthy fishing-nets,
Anchors of rusty fluke, and boats updrawn,
And built their castles of dissolving sand
To watch them overflow'd, or following up
And flying the white breaker, daily left
The little footprint daily wash'd away.
A narrow cave ran in beneath the cliff:
In this the children play'd at keeping house.
Enoch was host one day, Philip the next,
While Annie still was mistress; but at times
Enoch would hold possession for a week:
`This is my house and this my little wife.'
`Mine too' said Philip `turn and turn about:'
When, if they quarrell'd, Enoch stronger-made
Was master: then would Philip, his blue eyes
All flooded with the helpless wrath of tears,
Shriek out `I hate you, Enoch,' and at this
The little wife would weep for company,
And pray them not to quarrel for her sake,
And say she would be little wife to both.
But when the dawn of rosy childhood past,
And the new warmth of life's ascending sun
Was felt by either, either fixt his heart
On that one girl; and Enoch spoke his love,
But Philip loved in silence; and the girl
Seem'd kinder unto Philip than to him;
But she loved Enoch; tho' she knew it not,
And would if ask'd deny it. Enoch set
A purpose evermore before his eyes,
To hoard all savings to the uttermost,
To purchase his own boat, and make a home
For Annie: and so prosper'd that at last
A luckier or a bolder fisherman,
A carefuller in peril, did not breathe
For leagues along that breaker-beaten coast
Than Enoch. Likewise had he served a year
On board a merchantman, and made himself
Full sailor; and he thrice had pluck'd a life
From the dread sweep of the down-streaming seas:
And all me look'd upon him favorably:
And ere he touch'd his one-and-twentieth May
He purchased his own boat, and made a home
For Annie, neat and nestlike, halfway up
The narrow street that clamber'd toward the mill.
Then, on a golden autumn eventide,
The younger people making holiday,
With bag and sack and basket, great and small,
Went nutting to the hazels. Philip stay'd
(His father lying sick and needing him)
An hour behind; but as he climb'd the hill,
Just where the prone edge of the wood began
To feather toward the hollow, saw the pair,
Enoch and Annie, sitting hand-in-hand,
His large gray eyes and weather-beaten face
All-kindled by a still and sacred fire,
That burn'd as on an altar. Philip look'd,
And in their eyes and faces read his doom;
Then, as their faces drew together, groan'd,
And slipt aside, and like a wounded life
Crept down into the hollows of the wood;
There, while the rest were loud in merrymaking,
Had his dark hour unseen, and rose and past
Bearing a lifelong hunger in his heart.
So these were wed, and merrily rang the bells,
And merrily ran the years, seven happy years,
Seven happy years of health and competence,
And mutual love and honorable toil;
With children; first a daughter. In him woke,
With his first babe's first cry, the noble wish
To save all earnings to the uttermost,
And give his child a better bringing-up
Than his had been, or hers; a wish renew'd,
When two years after came a boy to be
The rosy idol of her solitudes,
While Enoch was abroad on wrathful seas,
Or often journeying landward; for in truth
Enoch's white horse, and Enoch's ocean-spoil
In ocean-smelling osier, and his face,
Rough-redden'd with a thousand winter gales,
Not only to the market-cross were known,
But in the leafy lanes behind the down,
Far as the portal-warding lion-whelp,
And peacock-yewtree of the lonely Hall,
Whose Friday fare was Enoch's ministering.
Then came a change, as all things human change.
Ten miles to northward of the narrow port
Open'd a larger haven: thither used
Enoch at times to go by land or sea;
And once when there, and clambering on a mast
In harbor, by mischance he slipt and fell:
A limb was broken when they lifted him;
And while he lay recovering there, his wife
Bore him another son, a sickly one:
Another hand crept too across his trade
Taking her bread and theirs: and on him fell,
Altho' a grave and staid God-fearing man,
Yet lying thus inactive, doubt and gloom.
He seem'd, as in a nightmare of the night,
To see his children leading evermore
Low miserable lives of hand-to-mouth,
And her, he loved, a beggar: then he pray'd
`Save them from this, whatever comes to me.'
And while he pray'd, the master of that ship
Enoch had served in, hearing his mischance,
Came, for he knew the man and valued him,
Reporting of his vessel China-bound,
And wanting yet a boatswain. Would he go?
There yet were many weeks before she sail'd,
Sail'd from this port. Would Enoch have the place?
And Enoch all at once assented to it,
Rejoicing at that answer to his prayer.
So now that the shadow of mischance appear'd
No graver than as when some little cloud
Cuts off the fiery highway of the sun,
And isles a light in the offing: yet the wife--
When he was gone--the children--what to do?
Then Enoch lay long-pondering on his plans;
To sell the boat--and yet he loved her well--
How many a rough sea had he weather'd in her!
He knew her, as a horseman knows his horse--
And yet to sell her--then with what she brought
Buy goods and stores--set Annie forth in trade
With all that seamen needed or their wives--
So might she keep the house while he was gone.
Should he not trade himself out yonder? go
This voyage more than once? yea twice or thrice--
As oft as needed--last, returning rich,
Become the master of a larger craft,
With fuller profits lead an easier life,
Have all his pretty young ones educated,
And pass his days in peace among his own.
Thus Enoch in his heart determined all:
Then moving homeward came on Annie pale,
Nursing the sickly babe, her latest-born.
Forward she started with a happy cry,
And laid the feeble infant in his arms;
Whom Enoch took, and handled all his limbs,
Appraised his weight and fondled fatherlike,
But had no heart to break his purposes
To Annie, till the morrow, when he spoke.
Then first since Enoch's golden ring had girt
Her finger, Annie fought against his will:
Yet not with brawling opposition she,
But manifold entreaties, many a tear,
Many a sad kiss by day and night renew'd
(Sure that all evil would come out of it)
Besought him, supplicating, if he cared
For here or his dear children, not to go.
He not for his own self caring but her,
Her and her children, let her plead in vain;
So grieving held his will, and bore it thro'.
For Enoch parted with his old sea-friend,
Bought Annie goods and stores, and set his hand
To fit their little streetward sitting-room
With shelf and corner for the goods and stores.
So all day long till Enoch's last at home,
Shaking their pretty cabin, hammer and axe,
Auger and saw, while Annie seem'd to hear
Her own death-scaffold raising, shrill'd and rang,
Till this was ended, and his careful hand,--
The space was narrow,--having order'd all
Almost as neat and close as Nature packs
Her blossom or her seedling, paused; and he,
Who needs would work for Annie to the last,
Ascending tired, heavily slept till morn.
And Enoch faced this morning of farewell
Brightly and boldly. All his Annie's fears,
Save, as his Annie's, were a laughter to him.
Yet Enoch as a brave God-fearing man
Bow'd himself down, and in that mystery
Where God-in-man is one with man-in-God,
Pray'd for a blessing on his wife and babes
Whatever came to him: and then he said
`Annie, this voyage by the grace of God
Will bring fair weather yet to all of us.
Keep a clean hearth and a clear fire for me,
For I'll be back, my girl, before you know it.'
Then lightly rocking baby's cradle `and he,
This pretty, puny, weakly little one,--
Nay--for I love him all the better for it--
God bless him, he shall sit upon my knees
And I will tell him tales of foreign parts,
And make him merry, when I come home again.
Come Annie, come, cheer up before I go.'
Him running on thus hopefully she heard,
And almost hoped herself; but when he turn'd
The current of his talk to graver things
In sailor fashion roughly sermonizing
On providence and trust in Heaven, she heard,
Heard and not heard him; as the village girl,
Who sets her pitcher underneath the spring,
Musing on him that used to fill it for her,
Hears and not hears, and lets it overflow.
At length she spoke `O Enoch, you are wise;
And yet for all your wisdom well know I
That I shall look upon your face no more.'
`Well then,' said Enoch, `I shall look on yours.
Annie, the ship I sail in passes here
(He named the day) get you a seaman's glass,
Spy out my face, and laugh at all your fears.'
But when the last of those last moments came,
`Annie my girl, cheer up, be comforted,
Look to the babes, and till I come again,
Keep everything shipshape, for I must go.
And fear no more for me; or if you fear
Cast all your cares on God; that anchor holds.
Is He not yonder in those uttermost
Parts of the morning? if I flee to these
Can I go from Him? and the sea is His,
The sea is His: He made it.'
Enoch rose,
Cast his strong arms about his drooping wife,
And kiss'd his wonder-stricken little ones;
But for the third, sickly one, who slept
After a night of feverous wakefulness,
When Annie would have raised him Enoch said
`Wake him not; let him sleep; how should this child
Remember this?' and kiss'ed him in his cot.
But Annie from her baby's forehead clipt
A tiny curl, and gave it: this he kept
Thro' all his future; but now hastily caught
His bundle, waved his hand, and went his way.
She when the day, that Enoch mention'd, came,
Borrow'd a glass, but all in vain: perhaps
She could not fix the glass to suit her eye;
Perhaps her eye was dim, hand tremulous;
She saw him not: and while he stood on deck
Waving, the moment and the vessel past.
Ev'n to the last dip of the vanishing sail
She watch'd it, and departed weeping for him;
Then, tho' she mourn'd his absence as his grave,
Set her sad will no less to chime with his,
But throve not in her trade, not being bred
To barter, nor compensating the want
By shrewdness, neither capable of lies,
Nor asking overmuch and taking less,
And still foreboding `what would Enoch say?'
For more than once, in days of difficulty
And pressure, had she sold her wares for less
Than what she gave in buying what she sold:
She fail'd and sadden'd knowing it; and thus,
Expectant of that news that never came,
Gain'd for here own a scanty sustenance,
And lived a life of silent melancholy.
Now the third child was sickly-born and grew
Yet sicklier, tho' the mother cared for it
With all a mother's care: nevertheless,
Whether her business often call'd her from it,
Or thro' the want of what it needed most,
Or means to pay the voice who best could tell
What most it needed--howsoe'er it was,
After a lingering,--ere she was aware,--
Like the caged bird escaping suddenly,
The little innocent soul flitted away.
In that same week when Annie buried it,
Philip's true heart, which hunger'd for her peace
(Since Enoch left he had not look'd upon her),
Smote him, as having kept aloof so long.
`Surely' said Philip `I may see her now,
May be some little comfort;' therefore went,
Past thro' the solitary room in front,
Paused for a moment at an inner door,
Then struck it thrice, and, no one opening,
Enter'd; but Annie, seated with her grief,
Fresh from the burial of her little one,
Cared not to look on any human face,
But turn'd her own toward the wall and wept.
Then Philip standing up said falteringly
`Annie, I came to ask a favor of you.'
He spoke; the passion in her moan'd reply
`Favor from one so sad and so forlorn
As I am!' half abash'd him; yet unask'd,
His bashfulness and tenderness at war,
He set himself beside her, saying to her:
`I came to speak to you of what he wish'd,
Enoch, your husband: I have ever said
You chose the best among us--a strong man:
For where he fixt his heart he set his hand
To do the thing he will'd, and bore it thro'.
And wherefore did he go this weary way,
And leave you lonely? not to see the world--
For pleasure?--nay, but for the wherewithal
To give his babes a better bringing-up
Than his had been, or yours: that was his wish.
And if he come again, vext will he be
To find the precious morning hours were lost.
And it would vex him even in his grave,
If he could know his babes were running wild
Like colts about the waste. So Annie, now--
Have we not known each other all our lives?
I do beseech you by the love you bear
Him and his children not to say me nay--
For, if you will, when Enoch comes again
Why then he shall repay me--if you will,
Annie--for I am rich and well-to-do.
Now let me put the boy and girl to school:
This is the favor that I came to ask.'
Then Annie with her brows against the wall
Answer'd `I cannot look you in the face;
I seem so foolish and so broken down.
When you came in my sorrow broke me down;
And now I think your kindness breaks me down;
But Enoch lives; that is borne in on me:
He will repay you: money can be repaid;
Not kindness such as yours.'
And Philip ask'd
`Then you will let me, Annie?'
There she turn'd,
She rose, and fixt her swimming eyes upon him,
And dwelt a moment on his kindly face,
Then calling down a blessing on his head
Caught at his hand and wrung it passionately,
And past into the little garth beyond.
So lifted up in spirit he moved away.
Then Philip put the boy and girl to school,
And bought them needful books, and everyway,
Like one who does his duty by his own,
Made himself theirs; and tho' for Annie's sake,
Fearing the lazy gossip of the port,
He oft denied his heart his dearest wish,
And seldom crost her threshold, yet he sent
Gifts by the children, garden-herbs and fruit,
The late and early roses from his wall,
Or conies from the down, and now and then,
With some pretext of fineness in the meal
To save the offence of charitable, flour
From his tall mill that whistled on the waste.
But Philip did not fathom Annie's mind:
Scarce could the woman when he came upon her,
Out of full heart and boundless gratitude
Light on a broken word to thank him with.
But Philip was her children's all-in-all;
From distant corners of the street they ran
To greet his hearty welcome heartily;
Lords of his house and of his mill were they;
Worried his passive ear with petty wrongs
Or pleasures, hung upon him, play'd with him
And call'd him Father Philip. Philip gain'd
As Enoch lost; for Enoch seem'd to them
Uncertain as a vision or a dream,
Faint as a figure seen in early dawn
Down at the far end of an avenue,
Going we know not where: and so ten years,
Since Enoch left his hearth and native land,
Fled forward, and no news of Enoch came.
It chanced one evening Annie's children long'd
To go with others, nutting to the wood,
And Annie would go with them; then they begg'd
For Father Philip (as they call'd him) too:
Him, like the working bee in blossom-dust,
Blanch'd with his mill, they found; and saying to him
`Come with us Father Philip' he denied;
But when the children pluck'd at him to go,
He laugh'd, and yielding readily to their wish,
For was not Annie with them? and they went.
But after scaling half the weary down,
Just where the prone edge of the wood began
To feather toward the hollow, all her force
Fail'd her; and sighing `let me rest' she said.
So Philip rested with her well-content;
While all the younger ones with jubilant cries
Broke from their elders, and tumultuously
Down thro' the whitening hazels made a plunge
To the bottom, and dispersed, and beat or broke
The lithe reluctant boughs to tear away
Their tawny clusters, crying to each other
And calling, here and there, about the wood.
But Philip sitting at her side forgot
Her presence, and remember'd one dark hour
Here in this wood, when like a wounded life
He crept into the shadow: at last he said
Lifting his honest forehead `Listen, Annie,
How merry they are down yonder in the wood.'
`Tired, Annie?' for she did not speak a word.
`Tired?' but her face had fall'n upon her hands;
At which, as with a kind anger in him,
`The ship was lost' he said `the ship was lost!
No more of that! why should you kill yourself
And make them orphans quite?' And Annie said
`I thought not of it: but--I known not why--
Their voices make me feel so solitary.'
Then Philip coming somewhat closer spoke.
`Annie, there is a thing upon my mind,
And it has been upon my mind so long,
That tho' I know not when it first came there,
I know that it will out at last. O Annie,
It is beyond all hope, against all chance,
That he who left you ten long years ago
Should still be living; well then--let me speak:
I grieve to see you poor and wanting help:
I cannot help you as I wish to do
Unless--they say that women are so quick--
Perhaps you know what I would have you know--
I wish you for my wife. I fain would prove
A father to your children: I do think
They love me as a father: I am sure
That I love them as if they were mine own;
And I believe, if you were fast my wife,
That after all these sad uncertain years,
We might be still as happy as God grants
To any of His creatures. Think upon it:
For I am well-to-do--no kin, no care,
No burthen, save my care for you and yours:
And we have known each other all our lives,
And I have loved you longer than you know.'
Then answer'd Annie; tenderly she spoke:
`You have been as God's good angel in our house.
God bless you for it, God reward you for it,
Philip, with something happier than myself.
Can one live twice? can you be ever loved
As Enoch was? what is it that you ask?'
`I am content' he answer'd `to be loved
A little after Enoch.' `O' she cried
Scared as it were `dear Philip, wait a while:
If Enoch comes--but Enoch will not come--
Yet wait a year, a year is not so long:
Surely I shall be wiser in a year:
O wait a little!' Philip sadly said
`Annie, as I have waited all my life
I well may wait a little.' `Nay' she cried
`I am bound: you have my promise--in a year:
Will you not bide your year as I bide mine?'
And Philip answer'd `I will bide my year.'
Here both were mute, till Philip glancing up
Beheld the dead flame of the fallen day
Pass from the Danish barrow overhead;
Then fearing night and chill for Annie rose,
And sent his voice beneath him thro' the wood.
Up came the children laden with their spoil;
Then all descended to the port, and there
At Annie's door he paused and gave his hand,
Saying gently `Annie, when I spoke to you,
That was your hour of weakness. I was wrong.
I am always bound to you, but you are free.'
Then Annie weeping answer'd `I am bound.'
She spoke; and in one moment as it were,
While yet she went about her household ways,
Ev'n as she dwelt upon his latest words,
That he had loved her longer than she knew,
That autumn into autumn flash'd again,
And there he stood once more before her face,
Claiming her promise. `Is it a year?' she ask'd.
`Yes, if the nuts' he said `be ripe again:
Come out and see.' But she--she put him off--
So much to look to--such a change--a month--
Give her a month--she knew that she was bound--
A month--no more. Then Philip with his eyes
Full of that lifelong hunger, and his voice
Shaking a little like a drunkard's hand,
`Take your own time, Annie, take your own time.'
And Annie could have wept for pity of him;
And yet she held him on delayingly
With many a scarce-believable excuse,
Trying his truth and his long-sufferance,
Till half-another year had slipt away.
By this the lazy gossips of the port,
Abhorrent of a calculation crost,
Began to chafe as at a personal wrong.
Some thought that Philip did but trifle with her;
Some that she but held off to draw him on;
And others laugh'd at her and Philip too,
As simple folks that knew not their own minds;
And one, in whom all evil fancies clung
Like serpent eggs together, laughingly
Would hint a worse in either. Her own son
Was silent, tho' he often look'd his wish;
But evermore the daughter prest upon her
To wed the man so dear to all of them
And lift the household out of poverty;
And Philip's rosy face contracting grew
Careworn and wan; and all these things fell on her
Sharp as reproach.
At last one night it chanced
That Annie could not sleep, but earnestly
Pray'd for a sign `my Enoch is he gone?'
Then compass'd round by the blind wall of night
Brook'd not the expectant terror of her heart,
Started from bed, and struck herself a light,
Then desperately seized the holy Book,
Suddenly set it wide to find a sign,
Suddenly put her finger on the text,
`Under a palmtree.' That was nothing to her:
No meaning there: she closed the book and slept:
When lo! her Enoch sitting on a height,
Under a palmtree, over him the Sun:
`He is gone' she thought `he is happy, he is singing
Hosanna in the highest: yonder shines
The Sun of Righteousness, and these be palms
Whereof the happy people strowing cried
"Hosanna in the highest!"' Here she woke,
Resolved, sent for him and said wildly to him
`There is no reason why we should not wed.'
`Then for God's sake,' he answer'd, `both our sakes,
So you will wed me, let it be at once.'
So these were wed and merrily rang the bells,
Merrily rang the bells and they were wed.
But never merrily beat Annie's heart.
A footstep seem'd to fall beside her path,
She knew not whence; a whisper in her ear,
She knew not what; nor loved she to be left
Alone at home, nor ventured out alone.
What ail'd her then, that ere she enter'd, often
Her hand dwelt lingeringly on the latch,
Fearing to enter: Philip thought he knew:
Such doubts and fears were common to her state,
Being with child: but when her child was born,
Then her new child was as herself renew'd,
Then the new mother came about her heart,
Then her good Philip was her all-in-all,
And that mysterious instinct wholly died.
And where was Enoch? prosperously sail'd
The ship `Good Fortune,' tho' at setting forth
The Biscay, roughly ridging eastward, shook
And almost overwhelm'd her, yet unvext
She slipt across the summer of the world,
Then after a long tumble about the Cape
And frequent interchange of foul and fair,
She passing thro' the summer world again,
The breath of heaven came continually
And sent her sweetly by the golden isles,
Till silent in her oriental haven.
There Enoch traded for himself, and bought
Quaint monsters for the market of those times,
A gilded dragon, also, for the babes.
Less lucky her home-voyage: at first indeed
Thro' many a fair sea-circle, day by day,
Scarce-rocking, her full-busted figure-head
Stared o'er the ripple feathering from her bows:
Then follow'd calms, and then winds variable,
Then baffling, a long course of them; and last
Storm, such as drove her under moonless heavens
Till hard upon the cry of `breakers' came
The crash of ruin, and the loss of all
But Enoch and two others. Half the night,
Buoy'd upon floating tackle and broken spars,
These drifted, stranding on an isle at morn
Rich, but loneliest in a lonely sea.
No want was there of human sustenance,
Soft fruitage, mighty nuts, and nourishing roots;
Nor save for pity was it hard to take
The helpless life so wild that it was tame.
There in a seaward-gazing mountain-gorge
They built, and thatch'd with leaves of palm, a hut,
Half hut, half native cavern. So the three,
Set in this Eden of all plenteousness,
Dwelt with eternal summer, ill-content.
For one, the youngest, hardly more than boy,
Hurt in that night of sudden ruin and wreck,
Lay lingering out a three-years' death-in-life.
They could not leave him. After he was gone,
The two remaining found a fallen stem;
And Enoch's comrade, careless of himself,
Fire-hollowing this in Indian fashion, fell
Sun-stricken, and that other lived alone.
In those two deaths he read God's warning `wait.'
The mountain wooded to the peak, the lawns
And winding glades high up like ways to Heaven,
The slender coco's drooping crown of plumes,
The lightning flash of insect and of bird,
The lustre of the long convolvuluses
That coil'd around the stately stems, and ran
Ev'n to the limit of the land, the glows
And glories of the broad belt of the world,
All these he saw; but what he fain had seen
He could not see, the kindly human face,
Nor ever hear a kindly voice, but heard
The myriad shriek of wheeling ocean-fowl,
The league-long roller thundering on the reef,
The moving whisper of huge trees that branch'd
And blossom'd in the zenith, or the sweep
Of some precipitous rivulet to the wave,
As down the shore he ranged, or all day long
Sat often in the seaward-gazing gorge,
A shipwreck'd sailor, waiting for a sail:
No sail from day to day, but every day
The sunrise broken into scarlet shafts
Among the palms and ferns and precipices;
The blaze upon the waters to the east;
The blaze upon his island overhead;
The blaze upon the waters to the west;
Then the great stars that globed themselves in Heaven,
The hollower-bellowing ocean, and again
The scarlet shafts of sunrise--but no sail.
There often as he watch'd or seem'd to watch,
So still, the golden lizard on him paused,
A phantom made of many phantoms moved
Before him haunting him, or he himself
Moved haunting people, things and places, known
Far in a darker isle beyond the line;
The babes, their babble, Annie, the small house,
The climbing street, the mill, the leafy lanes,
The peacock-yewtree and the lonely Hall,
The horse he drove, the boat he sold, the chill
November dawns and dewy-glooming downs,
The gentle shower, the smell of dying leaves,
And the low moan of leaden-color'd seas.
Once likewise, in the ringing of his ears,
Tho' faintly, merrily--far and far away--
He heard the pealing of his parish bells;
Then, tho' he knew not wherefore, started up
Shuddering, and when the beauteous hateful isle
Return'd upon him, had not his poor heart
Spoken with That, which being everywhere
Lets none, who speaks with Him, seem all alone,
Surely the man had died of solitude.
Thus over Enoch's early-silvering head
The sunny and rainy seasons came and went
Year after year. His hopes to see his own,
And pace the sacred old familiar fields,
Not yet had perish'd, when his lonely doom
Came suddenly to an end. Another ship
(She wanted water) blown by baffling winds,
Like the Good Fortune, from her destined course,
Stay'd by this isle, not knowing where she lay:
For since the mate had seen at early dawn
Across a break on the mist-wreathen isle
The silent water slipping from the hills,
They sent a crew that landing burst away
In search of stream or fount, and fill'd the shores
With clamor. Downward from his mountain gorge
Stept the long-hair'd long-bearded solitary,
Brown, looking hardly human, strangely clad,
Muttering and mumbling, idiotlike it seem'd,
With inarticulate rage, and making signs
They knew not what: and yet he led the way
To where the rivulets of sweet water ran;
And ever as he mingled with the crew,
And heard them talking, his long-bounden tongue
Was loosen'd, till he made them understand;
Whom, when their casks were fill'd they took aboard:
And there the tale he utter'd brokenly,
Scarce credited at first but more and more,
Amazed and melted all who listen'd to it:
And clothes they gave him and free passage home;
But oft he work'd among the rest and shook
His isolation from him. None of these
Came from his county, or could answer him,
If question'd, aught of what he cared to know.
And dull the voyage was with long delays,
The vessel scarce sea-worthy; but evermore
His fancy fled before the lazy wind
Returning, till beneath a clouded moon
He like a lover down thro' all his blood
Drew in the dewy meadowy morning-breath
Of England, blown across her ghostly wall:
And that same morning officers and men
Levied a kindly tax upon themselves,
Pitying the lonely man, and gave him it:
Then moving up the coast they landed him,
Ev'n in that harbor whence he sail'd before.
There Enoch spoke no word to anyone,
But homeward--home--what home? had he a home?
His home, he walk'd. Bright was that afternoon,
Sunny but chill; till drawn thro' either chasm,
Where either haven open'd on the deeps,
Roll'd a sea-haze and whelm'd the world in gray;
Cut off the length of highway on before,
And left but narrow breadth to left and right
Of wither'd holt or tilth or pasturage.
On the nigh-naked tree the Robin piped
Disconsolate, and thro' the dripping haze
The dead weight of the dead leaf bore it down.
Thicker the drizzle grew, deeper the gloom;
Last, as it seem'd, a great mist-blotted light
Flared on him, and he came upon the place.
Then down the long street having slowly stolen,
His heart foreshadowing all calamity,
His eyes upon the stones, he reach'd the home
Where Annie lived and loved him, and his babes
In those far-off seven happy years were born;
But finding neither light nor murmur there
(A bill of sale gleam'd thro' the drizzle) crept
Still downward thinking `dead or dead to me!'
Down to the pool and narrow wharf he went,
Seeking a tavern which of old he knew,
A front of timber-crost antiquity,
So propt, worm-eaten, ruinously old,
He thought it must have gone; but he was gone
Who kept it; and his widow, Miriam Lane,
With daily-dwindling profits held the house;
A haunt of brawling seamen once, but now
Stiller, with yet a bed for wandering men.
There Enoch rested silently many days.
But Miriam Lane was good and garrulous,
Nor let him be, but often breaking in,
Told him, with other annals of the port,
Not knowing--Enoch was so brown, so bow'd,
So broken--all the story of his house.
His baby's death, her growing poverty,
How Philip put her little ones to school,
And kept them in it, his long wooing her,
Her slow consent, and marriage, and the birth
Of Philip's child: and o'er his countenance
No shadow past, nor motion: anyone,
Regarding, well had deem'd he felt the tale
Less than the teller: only when she closed
`Enoch, poor man, was cast away and lost'
He, shaking his gray head pathetically,
Repeated muttering `cast away and lost;'
Again in deeper inward whispers `lost!'
But Enoch yearn'd to see her face again;
`If I might look on her sweet face gain
And know that she is happy.' So the thought
Haunted and harass'd him, and drove him forth,
At evening when the dull November day
Was growing duller twilight, to the hill.
There he sat down gazing on all below;
There did a thousand memories roll upon him,
Unspeakable for sadness. By and by
The ruddy square of comfortable light,
Far-blazing from the rear of Philip's house,
Allured him, as the beacon-blaze allures
The bird of passage, till he madly strikes
Against it, and beats out his weary life.
For Philip's dwelling fronted on the street,
The latest house to landward; but behind,
With one small gate that open'd on the waste,
Flourish'd a little garden square and wall'd:
And in it throve an ancient evergreen,
A yewtree, and all round it ran a walk
Of shingle, and a walk divided it:
But Enoch shunn'd the middle walk and stole
Up by the wall, behind the yew; and thence
That which he better might have shunn'd, if griefs
Like his have worse or better, Enoch saw.
For cups and silver on the burnish'd board
Sparkled and shone; so genial was the hearth:
And on the right hand of the hearth he saw
Philip, the slighted suitor of old times,
Stout, rosy, with his babe across his knees;
And o'er her second father stoopt a girl,
A later but a loftier Annie Lee,
Fair-hair'd and tall, and from her lifted hand
Dangled a length of ribbon and a ring
To tempt the babe, who rear'd his creasy arms,
Caught at and ever miss'd it, and they laugh'd:
And on the left hand of the hearth he saw
The mother glancing often toward her babe,
But turning now and then to speak with him,
Her son, who stood beside her tall and strong,
And saying that which pleased him, for he smiled.
Now when the dead man come to life beheld
His wife his wife no more, and saw the babe
Hers, yet not his, upon the father's knee,
And all the warmth, the peace, the happiness,
And his own children tall and beautiful,
And him, that other, reigning in his place,
Lord of his rights and of his children's love,--
Then he, tho' Miriam Lane had told him all,
Because things seen are mightier than things heard,
Stagger'd and shook, holding the branch, and fear'd
To send abroad a shrill and terrible cry,
Which in one moment, like the blast of doom,
Would shatter all the happiness of the hearth.
He therefore turning softly like a thief,
Lest the harsh shingle should grate underfoot,
And feeling all along the garden-wall,
Lest he should swoon and tumble and be found,
Crept to the gate, and open'd it, and closed,
As lightly as a sick man's chamber-door,
Behind him, and came out upon the waste.
And there he would have knelt, but that his knees
Were feeble, so that falling prone he dug
His fingers into the wet earth, and pray'd.
`Too hard to bear! why did they take me hence?
O God Almighty, blessed Saviour, Thou
That didst uphold me on my lonely isle,
Uphold me, Father, in my loneliness
A little longer! aid me, give me strength
Not to tell her, never to let her know.
Help me no to break in upon her peace.
My children too! must I not speak to these?
They know me not. I should betray myself.
Never: not father's kiss for me--the girl
So like her mother, and the boy, my son.'
There speech and thought and nature fail'd a little,
And he lay tranced; but when he rose and paced
Back toward his solitary home again,
All down the long and narrow street he went
Beating it in upon his weary brain,
As tho' it were the burthen of a song,
`Not to tell her, never to let her know.'
He was not all unhappy. His resolve
Upbore him, and firm faith, and evermore
Prayer from a living source within the will,
And beating up thro' all the bitter world,
Like fountains of sweet water in the sea,
Kept him a living soul. `This miller's wife'
He said to Miriam `that you told me of,
Has she no fear that her first husband lives?'
`Ay ay, poor soul' said Miriam, `fear enow!
If you could tell her you had seen him dead,
Why, that would be her comfort;' and he thought
`After the Lord has call'd me she shall know,
I wait His time' and Enoch set himself,
Scorning an alms, to work whereby to live.
Almost to all things could he turn his hand.
Cooper he was and carpenter, and wrought
To make the boatmen fishing-nets, or help'd
At lading and unlading the tall barks,
That brought the stinted commerce of those days;
Thus earn'd a scanty living for himself:
Yet since he did but labor for himself,
Work without hope, there was not life in it
Whereby the man could live; and as the year
Roll'd itself round again to meet the day
When Enoch had return'd, a languor came
Upon him, gentle sickness, gradually
Weakening the man, till he could do no more,
But kept the house, his chair, and last his bed.
And Enoch bore his weakness cheerfully.
For sure no gladlier does the stranded wreck
See thro' the gray skirts of a lifting squall
The boat that bears the hope of life approach
To save the life despair'd of, than he saw
Death dawning on him, and the close of all.
For thro' that dawning gleam'd a kindlier hope
On Enoch thinking `after I am gone,
Then may she learn I loved her to the last.'
He call'd aloud for Miriam Lane and said
`Woman, I have a secret--only swear,
Before I tell you--swear upon the book
Not to reveal it, till you see me dead.'
`Dead' clamor'd the good woman `hear him talk!
I warrant, man, that we shall bring you round.'
`Swear' add Enoch sternly `on the book.'
And on the book, half-frighted, Miriam swore.
Then Enoch rolling his gray eyes upon her,
`Did you know Enoch Arden of this town?'
`Know him?' she said `I knew him far away.
Ay, ay, I mind him coming down the street;
Held his head high, and cared for no man, he.'
Slowly and sadly Enoch answer'd her;
`His head is low, and no man cares for him.
I think I have not three days more to live;
I am the man.' At which the woman gave
A half-incredulous, half-hysterical cry.
`You Arden, you! nay,--sure he was a foot
Higher than you be.' Enoch said again
`My God has bow'd me down to what I am;
My grief and solitude have broken me;
Nevertheless, know that I am he
Who married--but that name has twice been changed--
I married her who married Philip Ray.
Sit, listen.' Then he told her of his voyage,
His wreck, his lonely life, his coming back,
His gazing in on Annie, his resolve,
And how he kept it. As the woman heard,
Fast flow'd the current of her easy tears,
While in her heart she yearn'd incessantly
To rush abroad all round the little haven,
Proclaiming Enoch Arden and his woes;
But awed and promise-bounded she forbore,
Saying only `See your bairns before you go!
Eh, let me fetch 'em, Arden,' and arose
Eager to bring them down, for Enoch hung
A moment on her words, but then replied.
`Woman, disturb me not now at the last,
But let me hold my purpose till I die.
Sit down again; mark me and understand,
While I have power to speak. I charge you now,
When you shall see her, tell her that I died
Blessing her, praying for her, loving her;
Save for the bar between us, loving her
As when she laid her head beside my own.
And tell my daughter Annie, whom I saw
So like her mother, that my latest breath
Was spent in blessing her and praying for her.
And tell my son that I died blessing him.
And say to Philip that I blest him too;
He never meant us any thing but good.
But if my children care to see me dead,
Who hardly saw me living, let them come,
I am their father; but she must not come,
For my dead face would vex her after-life.
And now there is but one of all my blood,
Who will embrace me in the world-to-be:
This hair is his: she cut it off and gave it,
And I have borne it with me all these years,
And thought to bear it with me to my grave;
But now my mind is changed, for I shall see him,
My babe in bliss: wherefore when I am gone,
Take, give her this, for it may comfort her:
It will moreover be a token to her,
That I am he.'
He ceased; and Miriam Lane
Made such a voluble answer promising all,
That once again he roll'd his eyes upon her
Repeating all he wish'd, and once again
She promised.
Then the third night after this,
While Enoch slumber'd motionless and pale,
And Miriam watch'd and dozed at intervals,
There came so loud a calling of the sea,
That all the houses in the haven rang.
He woke, he rose, he spread his arms abroad
Crying with a loud voice `a sail! a sail!
I am saved'; and so fell back and spoke no more.
So past the strong heroic soul away.
And when they buried him the little port
Had seldom seen a costlier funeral.
Long lines of cliff breaking have left a chasm;
And in the chasm are foam and yellow sands;
Beyond, red roofs about a narrow wharf
In cluster; then a moulder'd church; and higher
A long street climbs to one tall-tower'd mill;
And high in heaven behind it a gray down
With Danish barrows; and a hazelwood,
By autumn nutters haunted, flourishes
Green in a cuplike hollow of the down.
Here on this beach a hundred years ago,
Three children of three houses, Annie Lee,
The prettiest little damsel in the port,
And Philip Ray the miller's only son,
And Enoch Arden, a rough sailor's lad
Made orphan by a winter shipwreck, play'd
Among the waste and lumber of the shore,
Hard coils of cordage, swarthy fishing-nets,
Anchors of rusty fluke, and boats updrawn,
And built their castles of dissolving sand
To watch them overflow'd, or following up
And flying the white breaker, daily left
The little footprint daily wash'd away.
A narrow cave ran in beneath the cliff:
In this the children play'd at keeping house.
Enoch was host one day, Philip the next,
While Annie still was mistress; but at times
Enoch would hold possession for a week:
`This is my house and this my little wife.'
`Mine too' said Philip `turn and turn about:'
When, if they quarrell'd, Enoch stronger-made
Was master: then would Philip, his blue eyes
All flooded with the helpless wrath of tears,
Shriek out `I hate you, Enoch,' and at this
The little wife would weep for company,
And pray them not to quarrel for her sake,
And say she would be little wife to both.
But when the dawn of rosy childhood past,
And the new warmth of life's ascending sun
Was felt by either, either fixt his heart
On that one girl; and Enoch spoke his love,
But Philip loved in silence; and the girl
Seem'd kinder unto Philip than to him;
But she loved Enoch; tho' she knew it not,
And would if ask'd deny it. Enoch set
A purpose evermore before his eyes,
To hoard all savings to the uttermost,
To purchase his own boat, and make a home
For Annie: and so prosper'd that at last
A luckier or a bolder fisherman,
A carefuller in peril, did not breathe
For leagues along that breaker-beaten coast
Than Enoch. Likewise had he served a year
On board a merchantman, and made himself
Full sailor; and he thrice had pluck'd a life
From the dread sweep of the down-streaming seas:
And all me look'd upon him favorably:
And ere he touch'd his one-and-twentieth May
He purchased his own boat, and made a home
For Annie, neat and nestlike, halfway up
The narrow street that clamber'd toward the mill.
Then, on a golden autumn eventide,
The younger people making holiday,
With bag and sack and basket, great and small,
Went nutting to the hazels. Philip stay'd
(His father lying sick and needing him)
An hour behind; but as he climb'd the hill,
Just where the prone edge of the wood began
To feather toward the hollow, saw the pair,
Enoch and Annie, sitting hand-in-hand,
His large gray eyes and weather-beaten face
All-kindled by a still and sacred fire,
That burn'd as on an altar. Philip look'd,
And in their eyes and faces read his doom;
Then, as their faces drew together, groan'd,
And slipt aside, and like a wounded life
Crept down into the hollows of the wood;
There, while the rest were loud in merrymaking,
Had his dark hour unseen, and rose and past
Bearing a lifelong hunger in his heart.
So these were wed, and merrily rang the bells,
And merrily ran the years, seven happy years,
Seven happy years of health and competence,
And mutual love and honorable toil;
With children; first a daughter. In him woke,
With his first babe's first cry, the noble wish
To save all earnings to the uttermost,
And give his child a better bringing-up
Than his had been, or hers; a wish renew'd,
When two years after came a boy to be
The rosy idol of her solitudes,
While Enoch was abroad on wrathful seas,
Or often journeying landward; for in truth
Enoch's white horse, and Enoch's ocean-spoil
In ocean-smelling osier, and his face,
Rough-redden'd with a thousand winter gales,
Not only to the market-cross were known,
But in the leafy lanes behind the down,
Far as the portal-warding lion-whelp,
And peacock-yewtree of the lonely Hall,
Whose Friday fare was Enoch's ministering.
Then came a change, as all things human change.
Ten miles to northward of the narrow port
Open'd a larger haven: thither used
Enoch at times to go by land or sea;
And once when there, and clambering on a mast
In harbor, by mischance he slipt and fell:
A limb was broken when they lifted him;
And while he lay recovering there, his wife
Bore him another son, a sickly one:
Another hand crept too across his trade
Taking her bread and theirs: and on him fell,
Altho' a grave and staid God-fearing man,
Yet lying thus inactive, doubt and gloom.
He seem'd, as in a nightmare of the night,
To see his children leading evermore
Low miserable lives of hand-to-mouth,
And her, he loved, a beggar: then he pray'd
`Save them from this, whatever comes to me.'
And while he pray'd, the master of that ship
Enoch had served in, hearing his mischance,
Came, for he knew the man and valued him,
Reporting of his vessel China-bound,
And wanting yet a boatswain. Would he go?
There yet were many weeks before she sail'd,
Sail'd from this port. Would Enoch have the place?
And Enoch all at once assented to it,
Rejoicing at that answer to his prayer.
So now that the shadow of mischance appear'd
No graver than as when some little cloud
Cuts off the fiery highway of the sun,
And isles a light in the offing: yet the wife--
When he was gone--the children--what to do?
Then Enoch lay long-pondering on his plans;
To sell the boat--and yet he loved her well--
How many a rough sea had he weather'd in her!
He knew her, as a horseman knows his horse--
And yet to sell her--then with what she brought
Buy goods and stores--set Annie forth in trade
With all that seamen needed or their wives--
So might she keep the house while he was gone.
Should he not trade himself out yonder? go
This voyage more than once? yea twice or thrice--
As oft as needed--last, returning rich,
Become the master of a larger craft,
With fuller profits lead an easier life,
Have all his pretty young ones educated,
And pass his days in peace among his own.
Thus Enoch in his heart determined all:
Then moving homeward came on Annie pale,
Nursing the sickly babe, her latest-born.
Forward she started with a happy cry,
And laid the feeble infant in his arms;
Whom Enoch took, and handled all his limbs,
Appraised his weight and fondled fatherlike,
But had no heart to break his purposes
To Annie, till the morrow, when he spoke.
Then first since Enoch's golden ring had girt
Her finger, Annie fought against his will:
Yet not with brawling opposition she,
But manifold entreaties, many a tear,
Many a sad kiss by day and night renew'd
(Sure that all evil would come out of it)
Besought him, supplicating, if he cared
For here or his dear children, not to go.
He not for his own self caring but her,
Her and her children, let her plead in vain;
So grieving held his will, and bore it thro'.
For Enoch parted with his old sea-friend,
Bought Annie goods and stores, and set his hand
To fit their little streetward sitting-room
With shelf and corner for the goods and stores.
So all day long till Enoch's last at home,
Shaking their pretty cabin, hammer and axe,
Auger and saw, while Annie seem'd to hear
Her own death-scaffold raising, shrill'd and rang,
Till this was ended, and his careful hand,--
The space was narrow,--having order'd all
Almost as neat and close as Nature packs
Her blossom or her seedling, paused; and he,
Who needs would work for Annie to the last,
Ascending tired, heavily slept till morn.
And Enoch faced this morning of farewell
Brightly and boldly. All his Annie's fears,
Save, as his Annie's, were a laughter to him.
Yet Enoch as a brave God-fearing man
Bow'd himself down, and in that mystery
Where God-in-man is one with man-in-God,
Pray'd for a blessing on his wife and babes
Whatever came to him: and then he said
`Annie, this voyage by the grace of God
Will bring fair weather yet to all of us.
Keep a clean hearth and a clear fire for me,
For I'll be back, my girl, before you know it.'
Then lightly rocking baby's cradle `and he,
This pretty, puny, weakly little one,--
Nay--for I love him all the better for it--
God bless him, he shall sit upon my knees
And I will tell him tales of foreign parts,
And make him merry, when I come home again.
Come Annie, come, cheer up before I go.'
Him running on thus hopefully she heard,
And almost hoped herself; but when he turn'd
The current of his talk to graver things
In sailor fashion roughly sermonizing
On providence and trust in Heaven, she heard,
Heard and not heard him; as the village girl,
Who sets her pitcher underneath the spring,
Musing on him that used to fill it for her,
Hears and not hears, and lets it overflow.
At length she spoke `O Enoch, you are wise;
And yet for all your wisdom well know I
That I shall look upon your face no more.'
`Well then,' said Enoch, `I shall look on yours.
Annie, the ship I sail in passes here
(He named the day) get you a seaman's glass,
Spy out my face, and laugh at all your fears.'
But when the last of those last moments came,
`Annie my girl, cheer up, be comforted,
Look to the babes, and till I come again,
Keep everything shipshape, for I must go.
And fear no more for me; or if you fear
Cast all your cares on God; that anchor holds.
Is He not yonder in those uttermost
Parts of the morning? if I flee to these
Can I go from Him? and the sea is His,
The sea is His: He made it.'
Enoch rose,
Cast his strong arms about his drooping wife,
And kiss'd his wonder-stricken little ones;
But for the third, sickly one, who slept
After a night of feverous wakefulness,
When Annie would have raised him Enoch said
`Wake him not; let him sleep; how should this child
Remember this?' and kiss'ed him in his cot.
But Annie from her baby's forehead clipt
A tiny curl, and gave it: this he kept
Thro' all his future; but now hastily caught
His bundle, waved his hand, and went his way.
She when the day, that Enoch mention'd, came,
Borrow'd a glass, but all in vain: perhaps
She could not fix the glass to suit her eye;
Perhaps her eye was dim, hand tremulous;
She saw him not: and while he stood on deck
Waving, the moment and the vessel past.
Ev'n to the last dip of the vanishing sail
She watch'd it, and departed weeping for him;
Then, tho' she mourn'd his absence as his grave,
Set her sad will no less to chime with his,
But throve not in her trade, not being bred
To barter, nor compensating the want
By shrewdness, neither capable of lies,
Nor asking overmuch and taking less,
And still foreboding `what would Enoch say?'
For more than once, in days of difficulty
And pressure, had she sold her wares for less
Than what she gave in buying what she sold:
She fail'd and sadden'd knowing it; and thus,
Expectant of that news that never came,
Gain'd for here own a scanty sustenance,
And lived a life of silent melancholy.
Now the third child was sickly-born and grew
Yet sicklier, tho' the mother cared for it
With all a mother's care: nevertheless,
Whether her business often call'd her from it,
Or thro' the want of what it needed most,
Or means to pay the voice who best could tell
What most it needed--howsoe'er it was,
After a lingering,--ere she was aware,--
Like the caged bird escaping suddenly,
The little innocent soul flitted away.
In that same week when Annie buried it,
Philip's true heart, which hunger'd for her peace
(Since Enoch left he had not look'd upon her),
Smote him, as having kept aloof so long.
`Surely' said Philip `I may see her now,
May be some little comfort;' therefore went,
Past thro' the solitary room in front,
Paused for a moment at an inner door,
Then struck it thrice, and, no one opening,
Enter'd; but Annie, seated with her grief,
Fresh from the burial of her little one,
Cared not to look on any human face,
But turn'd her own toward the wall and wept.
Then Philip standing up said falteringly
`Annie, I came to ask a favor of you.'
He spoke; the passion in her moan'd reply
`Favor from one so sad and so forlorn
As I am!' half abash'd him; yet unask'd,
His bashfulness and tenderness at war,
He set himself beside her, saying to her:
`I came to speak to you of what he wish'd,
Enoch, your husband: I have ever said
You chose the best among us--a strong man:
For where he fixt his heart he set his hand
To do the thing he will'd, and bore it thro'.
And wherefore did he go this weary way,
And leave you lonely? not to see the world--
For pleasure?--nay, but for the wherewithal
To give his babes a better bringing-up
Than his had been, or yours: that was his wish.
And if he come again, vext will he be
To find the precious morning hours were lost.
And it would vex him even in his grave,
If he could know his babes were running wild
Like colts about the waste. So Annie, now--
Have we not known each other all our lives?
I do beseech you by the love you bear
Him and his children not to say me nay--
For, if you will, when Enoch comes again
Why then he shall repay me--if you will,
Annie--for I am rich and well-to-do.
Now let me put the boy and girl to school:
This is the favor that I came to ask.'
Then Annie with her brows against the wall
Answer'd `I cannot look you in the face;
I seem so foolish and so broken down.
When you came in my sorrow broke me down;
And now I think your kindness breaks me down;
But Enoch lives; that is borne in on me:
He will repay you: money can be repaid;
Not kindness such as yours.'
And Philip ask'd
`Then you will let me, Annie?'
There she turn'd,
She rose, and fixt her swimming eyes upon him,
And dwelt a moment on his kindly face,
Then calling down a blessing on his head
Caught at his hand and wrung it passionately,
And past into the little garth beyond.
So lifted up in spirit he moved away.
Then Philip put the boy and girl to school,
And bought them needful books, and everyway,
Like one who does his duty by his own,
Made himself theirs; and tho' for Annie's sake,
Fearing the lazy gossip of the port,
He oft denied his heart his dearest wish,
And seldom crost her threshold, yet he sent
Gifts by the children, garden-herbs and fruit,
The late and early roses from his wall,
Or conies from the down, and now and then,
With some pretext of fineness in the meal
To save the offence of charitable, flour
From his tall mill that whistled on the waste.
But Philip did not fathom Annie's mind:
Scarce could the woman when he came upon her,
Out of full heart and boundless gratitude
Light on a broken word to thank him with.
But Philip was her children's all-in-all;
From distant corners of the street they ran
To greet his hearty welcome heartily;
Lords of his house and of his mill were they;
Worried his passive ear with petty wrongs
Or pleasures, hung upon him, play'd with him
And call'd him Father Philip. Philip gain'd
As Enoch lost; for Enoch seem'd to them
Uncertain as a vision or a dream,
Faint as a figure seen in early dawn
Down at the far end of an avenue,
Going we know not where: and so ten years,
Since Enoch left his hearth and native land,
Fled forward, and no news of Enoch came.
It chanced one evening Annie's children long'd
To go with others, nutting to the wood,
And Annie would go with them; then they begg'd
For Father Philip (as they call'd him) too:
Him, like the working bee in blossom-dust,
Blanch'd with his mill, they found; and saying to him
`Come with us Father Philip' he denied;
But when the children pluck'd at him to go,
He laugh'd, and yielding readily to their wish,
For was not Annie with them? and they went.
But after scaling half the weary down,
Just where the prone edge of the wood began
To feather toward the hollow, all her force
Fail'd her; and sighing `let me rest' she said.
So Philip rested with her well-content;
While all the younger ones with jubilant cries
Broke from their elders, and tumultuously
Down thro' the whitening hazels made a plunge
To the bottom, and dispersed, and beat or broke
The lithe reluctant boughs to tear away
Their tawny clusters, crying to each other
And calling, here and there, about the wood.
But Philip sitting at her side forgot
Her presence, and remember'd one dark hour
Here in this wood, when like a wounded life
He crept into the shadow: at last he said
Lifting his honest forehead `Listen, Annie,
How merry they are down yonder in the wood.'
`Tired, Annie?' for she did not speak a word.
`Tired?' but her face had fall'n upon her hands;
At which, as with a kind anger in him,
`The ship was lost' he said `the ship was lost!
No more of that! why should you kill yourself
And make them orphans quite?' And Annie said
`I thought not of it: but--I known not why--
Their voices make me feel so solitary.'
Then Philip coming somewhat closer spoke.
`Annie, there is a thing upon my mind,
And it has been upon my mind so long,
That tho' I know not when it first came there,
I know that it will out at last. O Annie,
It is beyond all hope, against all chance,
That he who left you ten long years ago
Should still be living; well then--let me speak:
I grieve to see you poor and wanting help:
I cannot help you as I wish to do
Unless--they say that women are so quick--
Perhaps you know what I would have you know--
I wish you for my wife. I fain would prove
A father to your children: I do think
They love me as a father: I am sure
That I love them as if they were mine own;
And I believe, if you were fast my wife,
That after all these sad uncertain years,
We might be still as happy as God grants
To any of His creatures. Think upon it:
For I am well-to-do--no kin, no care,
No burthen, save my care for you and yours:
And we have known each other all our lives,
And I have loved you longer than you know.'
Then answer'd Annie; tenderly she spoke:
`You have been as God's good angel in our house.
God bless you for it, God reward you for it,
Philip, with something happier than myself.
Can one live twice? can you be ever loved
As Enoch was? what is it that you ask?'
`I am content' he answer'd `to be loved
A little after Enoch.' `O' she cried
Scared as it were `dear Philip, wait a while:
If Enoch comes--but Enoch will not come--
Yet wait a year, a year is not so long:
Surely I shall be wiser in a year:
O wait a little!' Philip sadly said
`Annie, as I have waited all my life
I well may wait a little.' `Nay' she cried
`I am bound: you have my promise--in a year:
Will you not bide your year as I bide mine?'
And Philip answer'd `I will bide my year.'
Here both were mute, till Philip glancing up
Beheld the dead flame of the fallen day
Pass from the Danish barrow overhead;
Then fearing night and chill for Annie rose,
And sent his voice beneath him thro' the wood.
Up came the children laden with their spoil;
Then all descended to the port, and there
At Annie's door he paused and gave his hand,
Saying gently `Annie, when I spoke to you,
That was your hour of weakness. I was wrong.
I am always bound to you, but you are free.'
Then Annie weeping answer'd `I am bound.'
She spoke; and in one moment as it were,
While yet she went about her household ways,
Ev'n as she dwelt upon his latest words,
That he had loved her longer than she knew,
That autumn into autumn flash'd again,
And there he stood once more before her face,
Claiming her promise. `Is it a year?' she ask'd.
`Yes, if the nuts' he said `be ripe again:
Come out and see.' But she--she put him off--
So much to look to--such a change--a month--
Give her a month--she knew that she was bound--
A month--no more. Then Philip with his eyes
Full of that lifelong hunger, and his voice
Shaking a little like a drunkard's hand,
`Take your own time, Annie, take your own time.'
And Annie could have wept for pity of him;
And yet she held him on delayingly
With many a scarce-believable excuse,
Trying his truth and his long-sufferance,
Till half-another year had slipt away.
By this the lazy gossips of the port,
Abhorrent of a calculation crost,
Began to chafe as at a personal wrong.
Some thought that Philip did but trifle with her;
Some that she but held off to draw him on;
And others laugh'd at her and Philip too,
As simple folks that knew not their own minds;
And one, in whom all evil fancies clung
Like serpent eggs together, laughingly
Would hint a worse in either. Her own son
Was silent, tho' he often look'd his wish;
But evermore the daughter prest upon her
To wed the man so dear to all of them
And lift the household out of poverty;
And Philip's rosy face contracting grew
Careworn and wan; and all these things fell on her
Sharp as reproach.
At last one night it chanced
That Annie could not sleep, but earnestly
Pray'd for a sign `my Enoch is he gone?'
Then compass'd round by the blind wall of night
Brook'd not the expectant terror of her heart,
Started from bed, and struck herself a light,
Then desperately seized the holy Book,
Suddenly set it wide to find a sign,
Suddenly put her finger on the text,
`Under a palmtree.' That was nothing to her:
No meaning there: she closed the book and slept:
When lo! her Enoch sitting on a height,
Under a palmtree, over him the Sun:
`He is gone' she thought `he is happy, he is singing
Hosanna in the highest: yonder shines
The Sun of Righteousness, and these be palms
Whereof the happy people strowing cried
"Hosanna in the highest!"' Here she woke,
Resolved, sent for him and said wildly to him
`There is no reason why we should not wed.'
`Then for God's sake,' he answer'd, `both our sakes,
So you will wed me, let it be at once.'
So these were wed and merrily rang the bells,
Merrily rang the bells and they were wed.
But never merrily beat Annie's heart.
A footstep seem'd to fall beside her path,
She knew not whence; a whisper in her ear,
She knew not what; nor loved she to be left
Alone at home, nor ventured out alone.
What ail'd her then, that ere she enter'd, often
Her hand dwelt lingeringly on the latch,
Fearing to enter: Philip thought he knew:
Such doubts and fears were common to her state,
Being with child: but when her child was born,
Then her new child was as herself renew'd,
Then the new mother came about her heart,
Then her good Philip was her all-in-all,
And that mysterious instinct wholly died.
And where was Enoch? prosperously sail'd
The ship `Good Fortune,' tho' at setting forth
The Biscay, roughly ridging eastward, shook
And almost overwhelm'd her, yet unvext
She slipt across the summer of the world,
Then after a long tumble about the Cape
And frequent interchange of foul and fair,
She passing thro' the summer world again,
The breath of heaven came continually
And sent her sweetly by the golden isles,
Till silent in her oriental haven.
There Enoch traded for himself, and bought
Quaint monsters for the market of those times,
A gilded dragon, also, for the babes.
Less lucky her home-voyage: at first indeed
Thro' many a fair sea-circle, day by day,
Scarce-rocking, her full-busted figure-head
Stared o'er the ripple feathering from her bows:
Then follow'd calms, and then winds variable,
Then baffling, a long course of them; and last
Storm, such as drove her under moonless heavens
Till hard upon the cry of `breakers' came
The crash of ruin, and the loss of all
But Enoch and two others. Half the night,
Buoy'd upon floating tackle and broken spars,
These drifted, stranding on an isle at morn
Rich, but loneliest in a lonely sea.
No want was there of human sustenance,
Soft fruitage, mighty nuts, and nourishing roots;
Nor save for pity was it hard to take
The helpless life so wild that it was tame.
There in a seaward-gazing mountain-gorge
They built, and thatch'd with leaves of palm, a hut,
Half hut, half native cavern. So the three,
Set in this Eden of all plenteousness,
Dwelt with eternal summer, ill-content.
For one, the youngest, hardly more than boy,
Hurt in that night of sudden ruin and wreck,
Lay lingering out a three-years' death-in-life.
They could not leave him. After he was gone,
The two remaining found a fallen stem;
And Enoch's comrade, careless of himself,
Fire-hollowing this in Indian fashion, fell
Sun-stricken, and that other lived alone.
In those two deaths he read God's warning `wait.'
The mountain wooded to the peak, the lawns
And winding glades high up like ways to Heaven,
The slender coco's drooping crown of plumes,
The lightning flash of insect and of bird,
The lustre of the long convolvuluses
That coil'd around the stately stems, and ran
Ev'n to the limit of the land, the glows
And glories of the broad belt of the world,
All these he saw; but what he fain had seen
He could not see, the kindly human face,
Nor ever hear a kindly voice, but heard
The myriad shriek of wheeling ocean-fowl,
The league-long roller thundering on the reef,
The moving whisper of huge trees that branch'd
And blossom'd in the zenith, or the sweep
Of some precipitous rivulet to the wave,
As down the shore he ranged, or all day long
Sat often in the seaward-gazing gorge,
A shipwreck'd sailor, waiting for a sail:
No sail from day to day, but every day
The sunrise broken into scarlet shafts
Among the palms and ferns and precipices;
The blaze upon the waters to the east;
The blaze upon his island overhead;
The blaze upon the waters to the west;
Then the great stars that globed themselves in Heaven,
The hollower-bellowing ocean, and again
The scarlet shafts of sunrise--but no sail.
There often as he watch'd or seem'd to watch,
So still, the golden lizard on him paused,
A phantom made of many phantoms moved
Before him haunting him, or he himself
Moved haunting people, things and places, known
Far in a darker isle beyond the line;
The babes, their babble, Annie, the small house,
The climbing street, the mill, the leafy lanes,
The peacock-yewtree and the lonely Hall,
The horse he drove, the boat he sold, the chill
November dawns and dewy-glooming downs,
The gentle shower, the smell of dying leaves,
And the low moan of leaden-color'd seas.
Once likewise, in the ringing of his ears,
Tho' faintly, merrily--far and far away--
He heard the pealing of his parish bells;
Then, tho' he knew not wherefore, started up
Shuddering, and when the beauteous hateful isle
Return'd upon him, had not his poor heart
Spoken with That, which being everywhere
Lets none, who speaks with Him, seem all alone,
Surely the man had died of solitude.
Thus over Enoch's early-silvering head
The sunny and rainy seasons came and went
Year after year. His hopes to see his own,
And pace the sacred old familiar fields,
Not yet had perish'd, when his lonely doom
Came suddenly to an end. Another ship
(She wanted water) blown by baffling winds,
Like the Good Fortune, from her destined course,
Stay'd by this isle, not knowing where she lay:
For since the mate had seen at early dawn
Across a break on the mist-wreathen isle
The silent water slipping from the hills,
They sent a crew that landing burst away
In search of stream or fount, and fill'd the shores
With clamor. Downward from his mountain gorge
Stept the long-hair'd long-bearded solitary,
Brown, looking hardly human, strangely clad,
Muttering and mumbling, idiotlike it seem'd,
With inarticulate rage, and making signs
They knew not what: and yet he led the way
To where the rivulets of sweet water ran;
And ever as he mingled with the crew,
And heard them talking, his long-bounden tongue
Was loosen'd, till he made them understand;
Whom, when their casks were fill'd they took aboard:
And there the tale he utter'd brokenly,
Scarce credited at first but more and more,
Amazed and melted all who listen'd to it:
And clothes they gave him and free passage home;
But oft he work'd among the rest and shook
His isolation from him. None of these
Came from his county, or could answer him,
If question'd, aught of what he cared to know.
And dull the voyage was with long delays,
The vessel scarce sea-worthy; but evermore
His fancy fled before the lazy wind
Returning, till beneath a clouded moon
He like a lover down thro' all his blood
Drew in the dewy meadowy morning-breath
Of England, blown across her ghostly wall:
And that same morning officers and men
Levied a kindly tax upon themselves,
Pitying the lonely man, and gave him it:
Then moving up the coast they landed him,
Ev'n in that harbor whence he sail'd before.
There Enoch spoke no word to anyone,
But homeward--home--what home? had he a home?
His home, he walk'd. Bright was that afternoon,
Sunny but chill; till drawn thro' either chasm,
Where either haven open'd on the deeps,
Roll'd a sea-haze and whelm'd the world in gray;
Cut off the length of highway on before,
And left but narrow breadth to left and right
Of wither'd holt or tilth or pasturage.
On the nigh-naked tree the Robin piped
Disconsolate, and thro' the dripping haze
The dead weight of the dead leaf bore it down.
Thicker the drizzle grew, deeper the gloom;
Last, as it seem'd, a great mist-blotted light
Flared on him, and he came upon the place.
Then down the long street having slowly stolen,
His heart foreshadowing all calamity,
His eyes upon the stones, he reach'd the home
Where Annie lived and loved him, and his babes
In those far-off seven happy years were born;
But finding neither light nor murmur there
(A bill of sale gleam'd thro' the drizzle) crept
Still downward thinking `dead or dead to me!'
Down to the pool and narrow wharf he went,
Seeking a tavern which of old he knew,
A front of timber-crost antiquity,
So propt, worm-eaten, ruinously old,
He thought it must have gone; but he was gone
Who kept it; and his widow, Miriam Lane,
With daily-dwindling profits held the house;
A haunt of brawling seamen once, but now
Stiller, with yet a bed for wandering men.
There Enoch rested silently many days.
But Miriam Lane was good and garrulous,
Nor let him be, but often breaking in,
Told him, with other annals of the port,
Not knowing--Enoch was so brown, so bow'd,
So broken--all the story of his house.
His baby's death, her growing poverty,
How Philip put her little ones to school,
And kept them in it, his long wooing her,
Her slow consent, and marriage, and the birth
Of Philip's child: and o'er his countenance
No shadow past, nor motion: anyone,
Regarding, well had deem'd he felt the tale
Less than the teller: only when she closed
`Enoch, poor man, was cast away and lost'
He, shaking his gray head pathetically,
Repeated muttering `cast away and lost;'
Again in deeper inward whispers `lost!'
But Enoch yearn'd to see her face again;
`If I might look on her sweet face gain
And know that she is happy.' So the thought
Haunted and harass'd him, and drove him forth,
At evening when the dull November day
Was growing duller twilight, to the hill.
There he sat down gazing on all below;
There did a thousand memories roll upon him,
Unspeakable for sadness. By and by
The ruddy square of comfortable light,
Far-blazing from the rear of Philip's house,
Allured him, as the beacon-blaze allures
The bird of passage, till he madly strikes
Against it, and beats out his weary life.
For Philip's dwelling fronted on the street,
The latest house to landward; but behind,
With one small gate that open'd on the waste,
Flourish'd a little garden square and wall'd:
And in it throve an ancient evergreen,
A yewtree, and all round it ran a walk
Of shingle, and a walk divided it:
But Enoch shunn'd the middle walk and stole
Up by the wall, behind the yew; and thence
That which he better might have shunn'd, if griefs
Like his have worse or better, Enoch saw.
For cups and silver on the burnish'd board
Sparkled and shone; so genial was the hearth:
And on the right hand of the hearth he saw
Philip, the slighted suitor of old times,
Stout, rosy, with his babe across his knees;
And o'er her second father stoopt a girl,
A later but a loftier Annie Lee,
Fair-hair'd and tall, and from her lifted hand
Dangled a length of ribbon and a ring
To tempt the babe, who rear'd his creasy arms,
Caught at and ever miss'd it, and they laugh'd:
And on the left hand of the hearth he saw
The mother glancing often toward her babe,
But turning now and then to speak with him,
Her son, who stood beside her tall and strong,
And saying that which pleased him, for he smiled.
Now when the dead man come to life beheld
His wife his wife no more, and saw the babe
Hers, yet not his, upon the father's knee,
And all the warmth, the peace, the happiness,
And his own children tall and beautiful,
And him, that other, reigning in his place,
Lord of his rights and of his children's love,--
Then he, tho' Miriam Lane had told him all,
Because things seen are mightier than things heard,
Stagger'd and shook, holding the branch, and fear'd
To send abroad a shrill and terrible cry,
Which in one moment, like the blast of doom,
Would shatter all the happiness of the hearth.
He therefore turning softly like a thief,
Lest the harsh shingle should grate underfoot,
And feeling all along the garden-wall,
Lest he should swoon and tumble and be found,
Crept to the gate, and open'd it, and closed,
As lightly as a sick man's chamber-door,
Behind him, and came out upon the waste.
And there he would have knelt, but that his knees
Were feeble, so that falling prone he dug
His fingers into the wet earth, and pray'd.
`Too hard to bear! why did they take me hence?
O God Almighty, blessed Saviour, Thou
That didst uphold me on my lonely isle,
Uphold me, Father, in my loneliness
A little longer! aid me, give me strength
Not to tell her, never to let her know.
Help me no to break in upon her peace.
My children too! must I not speak to these?
They know me not. I should betray myself.
Never: not father's kiss for me--the girl
So like her mother, and the boy, my son.'
There speech and thought and nature fail'd a little,
And he lay tranced; but when he rose and paced
Back toward his solitary home again,
All down the long and narrow street he went
Beating it in upon his weary brain,
As tho' it were the burthen of a song,
`Not to tell her, never to let her know.'
He was not all unhappy. His resolve
Upbore him, and firm faith, and evermore
Prayer from a living source within the will,
And beating up thro' all the bitter world,
Like fountains of sweet water in the sea,
Kept him a living soul. `This miller's wife'
He said to Miriam `that you told me of,
Has she no fear that her first husband lives?'
`Ay ay, poor soul' said Miriam, `fear enow!
If you could tell her you had seen him dead,
Why, that would be her comfort;' and he thought
`After the Lord has call'd me she shall know,
I wait His time' and Enoch set himself,
Scorning an alms, to work whereby to live.
Almost to all things could he turn his hand.
Cooper he was and carpenter, and wrought
To make the boatmen fishing-nets, or help'd
At lading and unlading the tall barks,
That brought the stinted commerce of those days;
Thus earn'd a scanty living for himself:
Yet since he did but labor for himself,
Work without hope, there was not life in it
Whereby the man could live; and as the year
Roll'd itself round again to meet the day
When Enoch had return'd, a languor came
Upon him, gentle sickness, gradually
Weakening the man, till he could do no more,
But kept the house, his chair, and last his bed.
And Enoch bore his weakness cheerfully.
For sure no gladlier does the stranded wreck
See thro' the gray skirts of a lifting squall
The boat that bears the hope of life approach
To save the life despair'd of, than he saw
Death dawning on him, and the close of all.
For thro' that dawning gleam'd a kindlier hope
On Enoch thinking `after I am gone,
Then may she learn I loved her to the last.'
He call'd aloud for Miriam Lane and said
`Woman, I have a secret--only swear,
Before I tell you--swear upon the book
Not to reveal it, till you see me dead.'
`Dead' clamor'd the good woman `hear him talk!
I warrant, man, that we shall bring you round.'
`Swear' add Enoch sternly `on the book.'
And on the book, half-frighted, Miriam swore.
Then Enoch rolling his gray eyes upon her,
`Did you know Enoch Arden of this town?'
`Know him?' she said `I knew him far away.
Ay, ay, I mind him coming down the street;
Held his head high, and cared for no man, he.'
Slowly and sadly Enoch answer'd her;
`His head is low, and no man cares for him.
I think I have not three days more to live;
I am the man.' At which the woman gave
A half-incredulous, half-hysterical cry.
`You Arden, you! nay,--sure he was a foot
Higher than you be.' Enoch said again
`My God has bow'd me down to what I am;
My grief and solitude have broken me;
Nevertheless, know that I am he
Who married--but that name has twice been changed--
I married her who married Philip Ray.
Sit, listen.' Then he told her of his voyage,
His wreck, his lonely life, his coming back,
His gazing in on Annie, his resolve,
And how he kept it. As the woman heard,
Fast flow'd the current of her easy tears,
While in her heart she yearn'd incessantly
To rush abroad all round the little haven,
Proclaiming Enoch Arden and his woes;
But awed and promise-bounded she forbore,
Saying only `See your bairns before you go!
Eh, let me fetch 'em, Arden,' and arose
Eager to bring them down, for Enoch hung
A moment on her words, but then replied.
`Woman, disturb me not now at the last,
But let me hold my purpose till I die.
Sit down again; mark me and understand,
While I have power to speak. I charge you now,
When you shall see her, tell her that I died
Blessing her, praying for her, loving her;
Save for the bar between us, loving her
As when she laid her head beside my own.
And tell my daughter Annie, whom I saw
So like her mother, that my latest breath
Was spent in blessing her and praying for her.
And tell my son that I died blessing him.
And say to Philip that I blest him too;
He never meant us any thing but good.
But if my children care to see me dead,
Who hardly saw me living, let them come,
I am their father; but she must not come,
For my dead face would vex her after-life.
And now there is but one of all my blood,
Who will embrace me in the world-to-be:
This hair is his: she cut it off and gave it,
And I have borne it with me all these years,
And thought to bear it with me to my grave;
But now my mind is changed, for I shall see him,
My babe in bliss: wherefore when I am gone,
Take, give her this, for it may comfort her:
It will moreover be a token to her,
That I am he.'
He ceased; and Miriam Lane
Made such a voluble answer promising all,
That once again he roll'd his eyes upon her
Repeating all he wish'd, and once again
She promised.
Then the third night after this,
While Enoch slumber'd motionless and pale,
And Miriam watch'd and dozed at intervals,
There came so loud a calling of the sea,
That all the houses in the haven rang.
He woke, he rose, he spread his arms abroad
Crying with a loud voice `a sail! a sail!
I am saved'; and so fell back and spoke no more.
So past the strong heroic soul away.
And when they buried him the little port
Had seldom seen a costlier funeral.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Afterthought about Che part 2
This one was very depressing from the beginning to the end. Everything was against Che, but most importantly he lacked the local support. I would hate to quote Mao, but one of his famous saying is incredibly suitable here!
"People are like water, and army a fish. The way army needs people is like the way fish needs water."
Che was claimed the great man behind Cuban revolution. He was also a theorist for guerrilla warfare. He had to know how important local support was. Sometimes, there are forces unseen. Che might have overestimated local support, and he underestimated USA's determination to not let second Cuba appeared in its own backyard.
To me, the movie was really detailed in recounting the events led to Che's death. Kind heart wrenching as seeing an idealist fall. That is the primary element for a good movie.
"People are like water, and army a fish. The way army needs people is like the way fish needs water."
Che was claimed the great man behind Cuban revolution. He was also a theorist for guerrilla warfare. He had to know how important local support was. Sometimes, there are forces unseen. Che might have overestimated local support, and he underestimated USA's determination to not let second Cuba appeared in its own backyard.
To me, the movie was really detailed in recounting the events led to Che's death. Kind heart wrenching as seeing an idealist fall. That is the primary element for a good movie.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Afterthoughts about Che the movie 2008, part 1
Benicio del Toro started the film, Steven Soderbergh was the director. The movie was pretty good. del Toro was awesome. It does not matter to me what real Che looked like. Because when I was watching the film, I believed Che would act, speak, breath like del Toro's presence.
The ways the director present Che was quite interesting as well. It was like a question followed with an answer. The film started with an interview in black and white. After the interviewer asked a question, no matter if Che answered or not, the camera then moved into a segment where the answer was acted out in color in the time of revolution. By doing this, the director picked their favorite answer for the question. By doing this way, a hero emerged. Some of the accusations for being an assassin and butcher during revolution thus melted away.
For a person who knows so little about this part of history, I would rather be skeptic than trusting what I thought was presented to me. However, I cannot help being attracted to Che as a character presented in the movie. He was indeed a great personality. He was sharp in the interview, humble in front of Castro, respectful in front of the Cuban mass, but also knows how to lead them without losing principles.
I liked the film.
The ways the director present Che was quite interesting as well. It was like a question followed with an answer. The film started with an interview in black and white. After the interviewer asked a question, no matter if Che answered or not, the camera then moved into a segment where the answer was acted out in color in the time of revolution. By doing this, the director picked their favorite answer for the question. By doing this way, a hero emerged. Some of the accusations for being an assassin and butcher during revolution thus melted away.
For a person who knows so little about this part of history, I would rather be skeptic than trusting what I thought was presented to me. However, I cannot help being attracted to Che as a character presented in the movie. He was indeed a great personality. He was sharp in the interview, humble in front of Castro, respectful in front of the Cuban mass, but also knows how to lead them without losing principles.
I liked the film.
Friday, February 18, 2011
since the death
I cannot sing i cannot talk I cannot play i cannot stop bink eating i feel complete lost i even had hard time playing with my other cat i see dong dong everywhere i sometimes hear his voice i am increasingly irritated i could not put myself to move i am dead i am torn i cannot even feel my heartbeat i do not know what to do with my cat they were one but now two
it seemed better but i hate it absolutely hate it i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back i want my cat back 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Wednesday, February 16, 2011
老殘遊記續集自序
人生如夢耳。人生果如夢乎？抑或蒙叟之寓言乎，吾不能知。趨而質諸蜉蝣子，蜉蝣子不能決。趨而質諸靈椿子，靈椿子亦不能決。還而叩之昭明。
昭明曰：「昨日之我如是，今日之我復如是。觀我之室，一榻，一几，一席，一燈，一硯，一筆，一紙。昨日之榻、几、席、燈、硯、筆、紙若是，今日之榻、几、席、燈、硯、筆、紙仍若是。固明明有我，並有此一榻，一几，一席，一燈，一硯，一筆，一紙也。非若夢為鳥而厲乎天乎，覺則鳥與天俱失也。非若夢為魚而沒於淵，覺則魚與淵俱無也，更何所謂厲與沒哉？顧我之為我，實有其物，非若夢之為夢，實無其事也。然則人生如夢，固蒙叟之寓言也夫！
吾不敢決，又以質諸杳冥。杳冥曰：「子昨日何為者？」對曰：「晨起灑掃，午餐而夕寐，彈琴讀書，晤對良朋，如是而已。」杳冥曰：「前月此日，子何為者？」吾略舉以對。又問：「去年此月此日，子何為者？」強憶其略，遺忘過半矣。「十年前之此月此日，子何為者？」則茫茫然矣。推之二十年前，三十年前，四五十年前此月此日，子何為者？緘口結舌無以應也。杳冥曰：「前此五十年之子，固已隨風馳雲捲、雷奔電激以去，可知後此五十年間之子，亦必應隨風馳雲捲、雷奔電激以去。然則與前日之夢，昨日之夢，其人、其物、其事之同歸於無者，又何以別乎？前此五十年間之日月，既已渺不知其何之，今日之子，固儼然其猶存也。以儼然猶存之子，尚不能保前此五十年間之日月，使之暫留。則後此五十年後之子，必且與物俱化，更不能保其日月之暫留，斷斷然矣。謂之如夢，蒙叟豈欺我哉？」
夫夢之情境，雖已為幻為虛，不可復得，而敘述夢中情境之我，固儼然其猶在也。若百年後之我，且不知其歸於何所，雖有此如夢之百年之情境，更無敘述此情境之我而敘述之矣。是以人生百年，比之於夢，猶覺百年更虛於夢也！嗚呼！以此更虛於夢之百年，而必欲孜孜然，斤斤然，駸駸然，狺狺然，何為也哉？雖然前此五十年間之日月，固無法使之暫留，而其五十年間，可驚、可喜、可歌、可泣之事業，固歷劫而不可以忘者也。夫此如夢五十年間，可驚、可喜、可歌、可泣之事既不能忘，而此五十年間之夢，亦未嘗不有可驚、可喜、可歌、可泣之事，亦同此而不忘也。同此而不忘，世間於是乎有《老殘遊記二編》。
鴻都百鍊生自序
(http://open-lit.com/list.php)
昭明曰：「昨日之我如是，今日之我復如是。觀我之室，一榻，一几，一席，一燈，一硯，一筆，一紙。昨日之榻、几、席、燈、硯、筆、紙若是，今日之榻、几、席、燈、硯、筆、紙仍若是。固明明有我，並有此一榻，一几，一席，一燈，一硯，一筆，一紙也。非若夢為鳥而厲乎天乎，覺則鳥與天俱失也。非若夢為魚而沒於淵，覺則魚與淵俱無也，更何所謂厲與沒哉？顧我之為我，實有其物，非若夢之為夢，實無其事也。然則人生如夢，固蒙叟之寓言也夫！
吾不敢決，又以質諸杳冥。杳冥曰：「子昨日何為者？」對曰：「晨起灑掃，午餐而夕寐，彈琴讀書，晤對良朋，如是而已。」杳冥曰：「前月此日，子何為者？」吾略舉以對。又問：「去年此月此日，子何為者？」強憶其略，遺忘過半矣。「十年前之此月此日，子何為者？」則茫茫然矣。推之二十年前，三十年前，四五十年前此月此日，子何為者？緘口結舌無以應也。杳冥曰：「前此五十年之子，固已隨風馳雲捲、雷奔電激以去，可知後此五十年間之子，亦必應隨風馳雲捲、雷奔電激以去。然則與前日之夢，昨日之夢，其人、其物、其事之同歸於無者，又何以別乎？前此五十年間之日月，既已渺不知其何之，今日之子，固儼然其猶存也。以儼然猶存之子，尚不能保前此五十年間之日月，使之暫留。則後此五十年後之子，必且與物俱化，更不能保其日月之暫留，斷斷然矣。謂之如夢，蒙叟豈欺我哉？」
夫夢之情境，雖已為幻為虛，不可復得，而敘述夢中情境之我，固儼然其猶在也。若百年後之我，且不知其歸於何所，雖有此如夢之百年之情境，更無敘述此情境之我而敘述之矣。是以人生百年，比之於夢，猶覺百年更虛於夢也！嗚呼！以此更虛於夢之百年，而必欲孜孜然，斤斤然，駸駸然，狺狺然，何為也哉？雖然前此五十年間之日月，固無法使之暫留，而其五十年間，可驚、可喜、可歌、可泣之事業，固歷劫而不可以忘者也。夫此如夢五十年間，可驚、可喜、可歌、可泣之事既不能忘，而此五十年間之夢，亦未嘗不有可驚、可喜、可歌、可泣之事，亦同此而不忘也。同此而不忘，世間於是乎有《老殘遊記二編》。
鴻都百鍊生自序
(http://open-lit.com/list.php)
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
point and lines
we are point and lines. we are both. points are us. lines are the relationship with others. each of us were born with a two basic lines, connected with parents, with siblings sometimes. these are the strongest link, especially with parents. it is usually the hardest link to disconnect. as we grow, the lines that connect us from other point(people) increased. That is, usually. but for the most part, the lines connected, they disconnected. to maintain the connection of the line is depend on many factors.
just some weird thoughts... for the boring mind.
just some weird thoughts... for the boring mind.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Artist and his art
An artist sat in his room for a long time. A very long time. His mother was worried and came up to his room to check up on him. What are you doing? The artist looked away from the window and glanced at his mother in a dreamy state, obviously. There was no word. Do you need some food and water? Nodded slowly, the artist said yes. After she went out of his room, the artist closed the door.
For seven days, it went on like this. The door opened at last. there was a beautiful painting on the wall. The artist was so tired. His mom brought him some food and water like the past seven days. After the meal, the artist went on sitting in his room like the past seven days. His mother was worried. What happened to him? The artist stopped looking at the window. He now just stared blankly into the art he created. Still in a dreamy state. Do you want to go out? No. Would you like to watch a movie? No. It's Pete on the phone. Not interested. Don't you want to go out and bath in the sunlight? No. Why do you keep looking at the painting? ...
The hair grew, the bear grew, the nails were long. Mom was mad. She went into the room and smashed the painting! Why! What is it about the painting?! What are you doing to yourself? Look at you! You abandoned your friends, your life, you family, and yourself! Look at you! She stepped on the painting and stampeded on it! The artist was shocked by his mother's action! The sharp, high pitched voice shot through his ears! He jumped out of his seat and stood there. I was dreaming! Why do you shatter the only dream that I've ever had! But I don't understand! Your dream was to become an artist! No, No! My dream was to paint and die in it! What was that you were painting? Don't say another word! You ruined my dream, you ruined it! The artist sank on the floor, trying to recover the painting.
It was a girl on a sofa with a cat besides her. She was playing with the cat. The cat was so comfortable, he lied on his back and let her smooth through the soft belly. She sat side way on her lap and looked at the cat with a smile like there was no other person around. It was a red sofa, a yellowish wall with green curtain. A dim lit light, enough to show the colors but not enough to twist them. The cat was like purring. It almost felt like the purring sound was coming out of the painting.
For seven days, it went on like this. The door opened at last. there was a beautiful painting on the wall. The artist was so tired. His mom brought him some food and water like the past seven days. After the meal, the artist went on sitting in his room like the past seven days. His mother was worried. What happened to him? The artist stopped looking at the window. He now just stared blankly into the art he created. Still in a dreamy state. Do you want to go out? No. Would you like to watch a movie? No. It's Pete on the phone. Not interested. Don't you want to go out and bath in the sunlight? No. Why do you keep looking at the painting? ...
The hair grew, the bear grew, the nails were long. Mom was mad. She went into the room and smashed the painting! Why! What is it about the painting?! What are you doing to yourself? Look at you! You abandoned your friends, your life, you family, and yourself! Look at you! She stepped on the painting and stampeded on it! The artist was shocked by his mother's action! The sharp, high pitched voice shot through his ears! He jumped out of his seat and stood there. I was dreaming! Why do you shatter the only dream that I've ever had! But I don't understand! Your dream was to become an artist! No, No! My dream was to paint and die in it! What was that you were painting? Don't say another word! You ruined my dream, you ruined it! The artist sank on the floor, trying to recover the painting.
It was a girl on a sofa with a cat besides her. She was playing with the cat. The cat was so comfortable, he lied on his back and let her smooth through the soft belly. She sat side way on her lap and looked at the cat with a smile like there was no other person around. It was a red sofa, a yellowish wall with green curtain. A dim lit light, enough to show the colors but not enough to twist them. The cat was like purring. It almost felt like the purring sound was coming out of the painting.
chuck close
I watched the last episode of Charlie Rose's Brain series. Charlie Rose invited 2 artists to the table for the topic was about creativity. I was caught by one of the artists, Chuck Close saying that as an artist, he doesn't believe in inspiration. He said that artists cannot just wait for the inspiration to hit them like a lightening. He said that usually the way he works is to just start to work. Usually, along the way, something came up. It is like saying Action creates, doesn't matter if any idea formed beforehand or not. At the end, Charlie Rose asked, but there's still the question of why you guys are being you guys! There are tens of thousands artist out there. What makes you guys you? I do not remember a definite answer from all the people around that table. But I think does it matter? I do not see difference in these famous artists and a small child giddily creating whatever art. Other people's praise is some other people's business...
Something I feel I already know but lacked drive. I hate to say this. Rationality is useless for me here. I just want to be hugged to sleep and never get up again.
Something I feel I already know but lacked drive. I hate to say this. Rationality is useless for me here. I just want to be hugged to sleep and never get up again.
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
my borsch recipe
Preparation of the Stock:
Onion, 2 medium or 1 large
Bay Leaf, 1 piece
Any meat as you prefer, you can use bones as well.
Cook together for about an hour and half.
Pull out the meat, Onion, and bay leaf.
Or you could just leave the meat in there.
Cool it, so you could pick out fats.
Borsch:
Slice Beets.
Put Beets in the stock.
You can also add carrots, greased onions, tomatoes, and cabbage.
Few drop of vinegar, or lemon juice would be good too.
Finally Salt and Pepper to the taste.
It is served with some kind of cream like sour cream.
But I like the soup just the way it is.
Adding little bit of sour flavor is great though.
If I put in too many things besides beets, the color of the soup would not be as red, and the taste of beets would be compromised. Some may like it that way, But I prefer to have more beets flavor along with the deep dark red color of the soup. More pleasing to the eyes to me personally. I usually pull the Meat out after the stock is done. I am afraid of over cooked meat. Adding meat in later while the soup is hot is not a problem to me.
Onion, 2 medium or 1 large
Bay Leaf, 1 piece
Any meat as you prefer, you can use bones as well.
Cook together for about an hour and half.
Pull out the meat, Onion, and bay leaf.
Or you could just leave the meat in there.
Cool it, so you could pick out fats.
Borsch:
Slice Beets.
Put Beets in the stock.
You can also add carrots, greased onions, tomatoes, and cabbage.
Few drop of vinegar, or lemon juice would be good too.
Finally Salt and Pepper to the taste.
It is served with some kind of cream like sour cream.
But I like the soup just the way it is.
Adding little bit of sour flavor is great though.
If I put in too many things besides beets, the color of the soup would not be as red, and the taste of beets would be compromised. Some may like it that way, But I prefer to have more beets flavor along with the deep dark red color of the soup. More pleasing to the eyes to me personally. I usually pull the Meat out after the stock is done. I am afraid of over cooked meat. Adding meat in later while the soup is hot is not a problem to me.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
dong dong
dong dong died on 1/28/2011. he was shocked to death while vet was trying to put cast in him for euthanize.
you and her are now in my dream
in a yellow
dim light of mist
you rolled up in her arms
she on the sofa
fast asleep
while you purred on your back
embraced with two arms
in front of her bosoms
sweet dreams
i will wake you two
when i dream
you and her are now in my dream
in a yellow
dim light of mist
you rolled up in her arms
she on the sofa
fast asleep
while you purred on your back
embraced with two arms
in front of her bosoms
sweet dreams
i will wake you two
when i dream
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
國與朝, 還有中國這一名詞
不知道中國古代史家是如何界定朝代與國的?
我始終都覺得中國不過是文化名詞. 也就是以黃淮平原發展出來的文化. 中國本來指的就是黃淮平原一帶. 誰入主這一地帶, 誰就是這一帶的主人. 但是, 這樣問題來了. 歷來很多人入主這一塊地方啊... 依照傳統歷史, 三皇五帝都依序入主黃淮平原. 如果根據現代考古, 則這片土地上, 民族遷移的痕跡似乎沒停過. 那麼中國, 到底是地名呢? 還是文化呢? 我持文化論是啥原因呢?
根據我道聽塗說之後, 又因為記憶不佳而得來的結果. 我以為, 從中亞大草原, 一直到黃淮平原, 在古代, 實際上是一個大草原的文化. 大草原上, 雖然也根據膚色, 目色, 髮色, 語言, 風俗來分部族. 但是, 草原上遷移迅速, 移動範圍廣, 各部族混居到最後, 更容易由風俗習慣來看人. 也就是說, 如果你和我的風俗習慣相類, 則我看你就比較像我的同類. 雖說, 你可能是個白皮膚, 我可能是個黃皮膚. 這就是, 荀子勸學裡說的：「干越夷貉之子，生而同聲，長而異俗，教使之然也。」 這是大草原上的概念. 這個教的涵義裡, 在我看包括語言和風俗習慣.
這樣一個觀念在黃淮平原留下來. 由三皇五帝, 以致於三代. 至孔子, 此觀念不斷的流傳下來. 之後更被司馬遷說的很明白, 他說:
自黃帝至舜、禹，皆同姓而異其國號，以章明德。故黃帝為有熊，帝顓頊為高陽，帝嚳為高辛，帝堯為陶唐，帝舜為有虞。帝禹為夏后而別氏，姓姒氏。契為商，姓子氏。棄為周，姓姬氏。
國號者, 朝代名也. 此時, 能稱朝者, 皆是天下之盟主也. 其入主中國, 而號令天下之國. 入主黃淮平原者如何號令天下之國, 制禮作樂. 禮樂, 就是文化的表現. 其中有當時天下人所認同的生活準則, 可以承載天下各國各民族的風俗習慣. 在春秋戰國時, 這一認同已經達到了長江流域. 這裡已經超越了黃淮平原的地區. 但是, 在當時, 各黃淮平原的諸侯仍把楚國看作是中國以外. 因為中國一詞, 在當時仍是黃淮平原. 所以, 即使是孔子, 他仍稱周朝的官話, 也就是周國的話語為雅言. 他在念頌詩經的時候, 依然以雅言朗誦. 那麼, 這時, 朝和國到底是啥分別呢? 朝就是具有盟主地位的國, 而國, 很清楚就是比較小的諸侯.
在秦結束春秋戰國後, 秦廢諸侯, 而確定以縣為單位. 但是, 秦沒多久之後是漢. 漢是縣國並存. 後來又到了五胡亂華, 歷史上稱為五胡十六國, 最後變為南北朝. 這時候, 問題來了. 朝與國怎麼分? 漢朝以後的史學家在經歷四百年相對穩定的朝之後, 如何面對如此混亂形勢? 我想, 這在名詞上似乎滿清楚的. 五胡十六國, 和南北朝. 國者, 仍然小, 就算有大的國, 如符堅的前秦, 依然稱國, 因為沒有文化上的遺留. 朝則不僅僅國土大, 裡面風俗多, 而且有文化影像力. 中國在哪裡呢? 這時候, 是跟文化嗎? 還是跟土地? 以我殘弱的知識來看, 中國是以文化的姿態出現. 文化, 像是空氣, 到處都在. 即使是異族入主黃淮平原, 他最後的文化歸屬仍是中國. 而相對來看, 本來就是中國文化下的南朝, 反而因為不斷內鬥, 最後, 耗盡自己和時機, 朝代被滅. 但是, 他所代表的中國呢? 如果中國是土地, 則他早已不能代表中國. 如果中國是文化, 那他被滅的時候, 中國在哪裡?
文化啊, 那空虛的東西呀. 他是制度嗎? 他是語言嗎? 他是人性嗎? 他是思想嗎? 他是文字嗎? 永遠不要忘了荀子的話: 「干越夷貉之子，生而同聲，長而異俗，教使之然也。」 中國既不在血液裡, 也不在父母那裡. 一切只在人心裡. 文化可以使人強盛, 也可以使人衰殘. 北朝的五胡之民和漢民融合, 拓拔氏使用許多漢晉以來的文化, 他就是中國. 南朝繼續晉朝的內鬥, 還要加上南方居民的競爭, 喪失時機和鬥志, 他們也是中國. 既然都是中國, 那麼就要看, 誰能駕御文化. 駕馭文化者, 心也.
隋唐以後, 五代十國. 其決定因素, 似乎仍是: 區域多寡, 風俗多, 和文化影響力. 這一時期, 朝並不具有對國的絕對武力優勢. 但是, 他依然有相對的形勢. 以後一直到清朝結束, 朝與國的關係幾乎是類似的. 中國這一名詞, 就是漢唐明清在對外國的時候, 幾乎是不用的. 他們只是用國號來對外稱呼自己. 所以歷代以來, 中國人其實又叫, 漢人, 唐人, 明人, 清人. 這是繼續三代的傳統.
但是, 民國以來, 中國成了一個正式國號. 這基本上是個錯誤. 為啥呢? 因為中國從古至今都是一個文化單位. 幾乎都是一個文化單位. 現在濫用了, 那麼台灣, 還是一個中國文化嗎? 大陸以他的巨大稱自己是中國. 那他要怎樣看台灣呢? 它可以用他的勢力使地圖上少一塊嗎? 不行. 可是他可以使人們永遠搖擺在不確定裡. 而且, 當我們回去看台灣的文化與大陸文化的時候, 他們無差別嗎? 有, 且不是短期之內可以縮短到無.
可以這麼說, 中國, 被定為國號, 有外國壓力. 他使的很多中國文化的人感到壓力, 而形成一種意志, "我們"! 但是, 當現在, 我們努力學習西方文化的同時, 又發現, 他們自己也有 nation, state, regime, nation state...等等概念. 但是, 我們自己的朝與國的概念卻完全消失, 或著更明確一點, 他是去了活力. 好像一旦定義住了, 就永遠不能改變. 以為朝只是封建名詞. 所以我們改用國. 但是, 殊不知, 我們的情況完全不能和歐洲的觀念相比, 我們的語言文字也不能完全 1:1 的和歐洲對譯. 既然如此, 我寧可中國永歸文化單位, 而讓朝與國的觀念在度活起來. 以前朝是家族, 但是, 現在看來, 朝未嘗不能用於不同憲法, 不同主義下的政權. 國, 則每一個省其實就是一個國. 中國則仍是像空氣一樣, 他只能活在心裡. 而不能在外表.
我始終都覺得中國不過是文化名詞. 也就是以黃淮平原發展出來的文化. 中國本來指的就是黃淮平原一帶. 誰入主這一地帶, 誰就是這一帶的主人. 但是, 這樣問題來了. 歷來很多人入主這一塊地方啊... 依照傳統歷史, 三皇五帝都依序入主黃淮平原. 如果根據現代考古, 則這片土地上, 民族遷移的痕跡似乎沒停過. 那麼中國, 到底是地名呢? 還是文化呢? 我持文化論是啥原因呢?
根據我道聽塗說之後, 又因為記憶不佳而得來的結果. 我以為, 從中亞大草原, 一直到黃淮平原, 在古代, 實際上是一個大草原的文化. 大草原上, 雖然也根據膚色, 目色, 髮色, 語言, 風俗來分部族. 但是, 草原上遷移迅速, 移動範圍廣, 各部族混居到最後, 更容易由風俗習慣來看人. 也就是說, 如果你和我的風俗習慣相類, 則我看你就比較像我的同類. 雖說, 你可能是個白皮膚, 我可能是個黃皮膚. 這就是, 荀子勸學裡說的：「干越夷貉之子，生而同聲，長而異俗，教使之然也。」 這是大草原上的概念. 這個教的涵義裡, 在我看包括語言和風俗習慣.
這樣一個觀念在黃淮平原留下來. 由三皇五帝, 以致於三代. 至孔子, 此觀念不斷的流傳下來. 之後更被司馬遷說的很明白, 他說:
自黃帝至舜、禹，皆同姓而異其國號，以章明德。故黃帝為有熊，帝顓頊為高陽，帝嚳為高辛，帝堯為陶唐，帝舜為有虞。帝禹為夏后而別氏，姓姒氏。契為商，姓子氏。棄為周，姓姬氏。
國號者, 朝代名也. 此時, 能稱朝者, 皆是天下之盟主也. 其入主中國, 而號令天下之國. 入主黃淮平原者如何號令天下之國, 制禮作樂. 禮樂, 就是文化的表現. 其中有當時天下人所認同的生活準則, 可以承載天下各國各民族的風俗習慣. 在春秋戰國時, 這一認同已經達到了長江流域. 這裡已經超越了黃淮平原的地區. 但是, 在當時, 各黃淮平原的諸侯仍把楚國看作是中國以外. 因為中國一詞, 在當時仍是黃淮平原. 所以, 即使是孔子, 他仍稱周朝的官話, 也就是周國的話語為雅言. 他在念頌詩經的時候, 依然以雅言朗誦. 那麼, 這時, 朝和國到底是啥分別呢? 朝就是具有盟主地位的國, 而國, 很清楚就是比較小的諸侯.
在秦結束春秋戰國後, 秦廢諸侯, 而確定以縣為單位. 但是, 秦沒多久之後是漢. 漢是縣國並存. 後來又到了五胡亂華, 歷史上稱為五胡十六國, 最後變為南北朝. 這時候, 問題來了. 朝與國怎麼分? 漢朝以後的史學家在經歷四百年相對穩定的朝之後, 如何面對如此混亂形勢? 我想, 這在名詞上似乎滿清楚的. 五胡十六國, 和南北朝. 國者, 仍然小, 就算有大的國, 如符堅的前秦, 依然稱國, 因為沒有文化上的遺留. 朝則不僅僅國土大, 裡面風俗多, 而且有文化影像力. 中國在哪裡呢? 這時候, 是跟文化嗎? 還是跟土地? 以我殘弱的知識來看, 中國是以文化的姿態出現. 文化, 像是空氣, 到處都在. 即使是異族入主黃淮平原, 他最後的文化歸屬仍是中國. 而相對來看, 本來就是中國文化下的南朝, 反而因為不斷內鬥, 最後, 耗盡自己和時機, 朝代被滅. 但是, 他所代表的中國呢? 如果中國是土地, 則他早已不能代表中國. 如果中國是文化, 那他被滅的時候, 中國在哪裡?
文化啊, 那空虛的東西呀. 他是制度嗎? 他是語言嗎? 他是人性嗎? 他是思想嗎? 他是文字嗎? 永遠不要忘了荀子的話: 「干越夷貉之子，生而同聲，長而異俗，教使之然也。」 中國既不在血液裡, 也不在父母那裡. 一切只在人心裡. 文化可以使人強盛, 也可以使人衰殘. 北朝的五胡之民和漢民融合, 拓拔氏使用許多漢晉以來的文化, 他就是中國. 南朝繼續晉朝的內鬥, 還要加上南方居民的競爭, 喪失時機和鬥志, 他們也是中國. 既然都是中國, 那麼就要看, 誰能駕御文化. 駕馭文化者, 心也.
隋唐以後, 五代十國. 其決定因素, 似乎仍是: 區域多寡, 風俗多, 和文化影響力. 這一時期, 朝並不具有對國的絕對武力優勢. 但是, 他依然有相對的形勢. 以後一直到清朝結束, 朝與國的關係幾乎是類似的. 中國這一名詞, 就是漢唐明清在對外國的時候, 幾乎是不用的. 他們只是用國號來對外稱呼自己. 所以歷代以來, 中國人其實又叫, 漢人, 唐人, 明人, 清人. 這是繼續三代的傳統.
但是, 民國以來, 中國成了一個正式國號. 這基本上是個錯誤. 為啥呢? 因為中國從古至今都是一個文化單位. 幾乎都是一個文化單位. 現在濫用了, 那麼台灣, 還是一個中國文化嗎? 大陸以他的巨大稱自己是中國. 那他要怎樣看台灣呢? 它可以用他的勢力使地圖上少一塊嗎? 不行. 可是他可以使人們永遠搖擺在不確定裡. 而且, 當我們回去看台灣的文化與大陸文化的時候, 他們無差別嗎? 有, 且不是短期之內可以縮短到無.
可以這麼說, 中國, 被定為國號, 有外國壓力. 他使的很多中國文化的人感到壓力, 而形成一種意志, "我們"! 但是, 當現在, 我們努力學習西方文化的同時, 又發現, 他們自己也有 nation, state, regime, nation state...等等概念. 但是, 我們自己的朝與國的概念卻完全消失, 或著更明確一點, 他是去了活力. 好像一旦定義住了, 就永遠不能改變. 以為朝只是封建名詞. 所以我們改用國. 但是, 殊不知, 我們的情況完全不能和歐洲的觀念相比, 我們的語言文字也不能完全 1:1 的和歐洲對譯. 既然如此, 我寧可中國永歸文化單位, 而讓朝與國的觀念在度活起來. 以前朝是家族, 但是, 現在看來, 朝未嘗不能用於不同憲法, 不同主義下的政權. 國, 則每一個省其實就是一個國. 中國則仍是像空氣一樣, 他只能活在心裡. 而不能在外表.
Friday, January 14, 2011
獨臂刀和大醉俠電影感想
我剛看完獨臂刀, 張徹導演, 王羽等人演. 三天前我看完大醉俠, 胡金銓導, 鄭佩佩等人演.
整體而言, 我比較喜歡獨臂刀. 但是, 大醉俠有很多片段, 我覺得要細膩的多. 另外, 我也覺得大醉俠的選角要更好. 因為不僅僅是幾個主角很有突出, 就連許多副角都很有特色.
獨臂刀一開始我覺得交代的不夠清楚. 不清楚的地方是主角長大後的苦悶, 我不是很瞭解. 我只看到他被同門欺壓, 我覺得他應該憤怒. 但是, 他卻有另一種更深的困擾. 可以猜是和他父親有關. 可是問題就出在這裡, 電影一開始, 他父親就死了, 我完全無時間去深入這種感覺. 另一方面, 我感到一層隔閡, 可能也和我自己有關係, 就和我看不懂愛情戲一樣. 在故事情節上, 越到後面越交代的清楚. 雖說, 我覺得有些地方還是讓我感覺到在看一格一格情節. 即使如此, 在塑造主角的個性上, 這部電影卻是極其成功. 到了最後一個畫面的時候, 一個人物清楚的呈現在觀眾面前. 感覺到這時的他以不再是一個感情混亂的青年, 無論在愛情上, 武功上, 對師門的情感, 自己命運的掌握, 都有了一定的方向. 這電影成功的另一個部分就是講理很成功. 表現在台詞對白上. 師父一開始對兩個師兄和師妹的責備, 小蠻對主角的傾訴, 到最後主角為了救師門對小蠻的一番解釋, 都入情入理. 我覺得很難得. 很多非武俠片都不見得比的上.
大醉俠我覺得輸就輸在劇情上. 因為他的劇情其實更複雜. 其中還有許許多多要鬥智的地方. 但是, 劇組最後的解決辦法放在兩個世外高人身上, 造成了整部片子的敗筆. 實在很可惜. 而且, 片名為大醉俠, 但是, 我覺得我更關心金燕子甚於大醉俠. 結局上, 大醉俠的結局感覺上算是完整的. 不過, 我始終都不覺得那是主菜. 實際上的主菜我感覺我才吃了一半就拿走了, 換成甜點. 有點可惜. 但是, 我仍很喜歡不少片段. 尤其是金燕子出場的那一段. 我就覺得不僅僅是鄭佩佩很棒, 那幾位壞人更是出色. 可以算是很經典的一幕. 鄭佩佩向大醉俠請教的那一個段子也還可以. 金燕子的角色是滿成功的. 我想後來出了一些金燕子單獨的電影也可以說是其來有自吧.
整體而言, 我比較喜歡獨臂刀. 但是, 大醉俠有很多片段, 我覺得要細膩的多. 另外, 我也覺得大醉俠的選角要更好. 因為不僅僅是幾個主角很有突出, 就連許多副角都很有特色.
獨臂刀一開始我覺得交代的不夠清楚. 不清楚的地方是主角長大後的苦悶, 我不是很瞭解. 我只看到他被同門欺壓, 我覺得他應該憤怒. 但是, 他卻有另一種更深的困擾. 可以猜是和他父親有關. 可是問題就出在這裡, 電影一開始, 他父親就死了, 我完全無時間去深入這種感覺. 另一方面, 我感到一層隔閡, 可能也和我自己有關係, 就和我看不懂愛情戲一樣. 在故事情節上, 越到後面越交代的清楚. 雖說, 我覺得有些地方還是讓我感覺到在看一格一格情節. 即使如此, 在塑造主角的個性上, 這部電影卻是極其成功. 到了最後一個畫面的時候, 一個人物清楚的呈現在觀眾面前. 感覺到這時的他以不再是一個感情混亂的青年, 無論在愛情上, 武功上, 對師門的情感, 自己命運的掌握, 都有了一定的方向. 這電影成功的另一個部分就是講理很成功. 表現在台詞對白上. 師父一開始對兩個師兄和師妹的責備, 小蠻對主角的傾訴, 到最後主角為了救師門對小蠻的一番解釋, 都入情入理. 我覺得很難得. 很多非武俠片都不見得比的上.
大醉俠我覺得輸就輸在劇情上. 因為他的劇情其實更複雜. 其中還有許許多多要鬥智的地方. 但是, 劇組最後的解決辦法放在兩個世外高人身上, 造成了整部片子的敗筆. 實在很可惜. 而且, 片名為大醉俠, 但是, 我覺得我更關心金燕子甚於大醉俠. 結局上, 大醉俠的結局感覺上算是完整的. 不過, 我始終都不覺得那是主菜. 實際上的主菜我感覺我才吃了一半就拿走了, 換成甜點. 有點可惜. 但是, 我仍很喜歡不少片段. 尤其是金燕子出場的那一段. 我就覺得不僅僅是鄭佩佩很棒, 那幾位壞人更是出色. 可以算是很經典的一幕. 鄭佩佩向大醉俠請教的那一個段子也還可以. 金燕子的角色是滿成功的. 我想後來出了一些金燕子單獨的電影也可以說是其來有自吧.
Is unknow language a sound, or a language?
I like to listen to songs that I could not understand sometimes. I listen to Russian, Spanish, French, Mongolian, Turkish, Arabic, Indian, and many others.
Listening to them is a very different experience compared to the songs that I could understand the meaning in lyrics. I feel that some part of my brain is at ease. The lyrics that I do not understand becomes part of music, purely musical. I might follow the phrase at the end of each sentence, but I have no idea of what I was singing. To me, understanding is none existence. But somehow, utter the unknown while following the song makes me melted in the music as well. This is a weird feeling.
But there are moments that I could not listen to those songs. If I was not calm enough, for example. If I was very emotional, I could only listen to songs that I could follow. It is like follow the songs as if that helps express my emotion, which would be hard to do by myself. Could this mean that at those moment, lyrics are more important than musics?
So many things I don't know. lol
Listening to them is a very different experience compared to the songs that I could understand the meaning in lyrics. I feel that some part of my brain is at ease. The lyrics that I do not understand becomes part of music, purely musical. I might follow the phrase at the end of each sentence, but I have no idea of what I was singing. To me, understanding is none existence. But somehow, utter the unknown while following the song makes me melted in the music as well. This is a weird feeling.
But there are moments that I could not listen to those songs. If I was not calm enough, for example. If I was very emotional, I could only listen to songs that I could follow. It is like follow the songs as if that helps express my emotion, which would be hard to do by myself. Could this mean that at those moment, lyrics are more important than musics?
So many things I don't know. lol
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
new idea on video games
I just had a new idea about video games. lol
I kept reading about brain science. The difference between left brain and right brain is interesting. I just had an idea of putting the players in control of the left brain of the characters in the game. The reasoning is like the following:
1. hardcore fighting is hard. it needs skills. mots people wanted to feel great but did not want to learn, or not able to master all the movement and/or lacking the reaction nerve. This is the reasoning for developers to steer away from hardcore fighting. they are trying to design a system where, people do not need to memorize complicated combo attack, players don't need to memorize the mapping on the keyboard/gamepad, and quicktime events are overabundant.
2. developers need to make player powerful and a sense of achievement, the best way to do it is adding some of the RPG, aka, stats gaining.
3. left brain is in charge of people's daily consciousness. it is broken, slow, and not intuitive. however, to compensate the above mentioned, it has a way of grouping multiple commands into a single solid form. and with practice, this form will be solidified. although as a whole, the now combined commands are limited, it is suffice to compete in a small time frame.
4. with the ability of left brain mentioned above, it is like a combo, where player could take over and control them. right brain is the automated system, like driving a car. and right brain is wehre, developers could design their magic, so to speak. putting many different animations, and things that players could just watch the commands on the screen...
5. the game would be like this, players control left brain. all the right brain could do at the beginning might be functioning through a button. as the RPG kicking in, players could assign more things to the right brain. the whole fight mechanic might just be completely different compared to the beginning. at the beginning, it might feel like Oni, but at the end, according to players, fighting mechanic could eventually evolve into something like diablo, you just need to click senselessly... for those who have no interest in fighting out, the right brain will do it for you. but for those, who actually would like to duke it out and enjoy a good fight, they could use the character's left brain to do just that. I think there should many options for players to decide what kind performance a player prefer. it could go far to the right, or far to the left, and there should have many middle grounds as well.
I kept reading about brain science. The difference between left brain and right brain is interesting. I just had an idea of putting the players in control of the left brain of the characters in the game. The reasoning is like the following:
1. hardcore fighting is hard. it needs skills. mots people wanted to feel great but did not want to learn, or not able to master all the movement and/or lacking the reaction nerve. This is the reasoning for developers to steer away from hardcore fighting. they are trying to design a system where, people do not need to memorize complicated combo attack, players don't need to memorize the mapping on the keyboard/gamepad, and quicktime events are overabundant.
2. developers need to make player powerful and a sense of achievement, the best way to do it is adding some of the RPG, aka, stats gaining.
3. left brain is in charge of people's daily consciousness. it is broken, slow, and not intuitive. however, to compensate the above mentioned, it has a way of grouping multiple commands into a single solid form. and with practice, this form will be solidified. although as a whole, the now combined commands are limited, it is suffice to compete in a small time frame.
4. with the ability of left brain mentioned above, it is like a combo, where player could take over and control them. right brain is the automated system, like driving a car. and right brain is wehre, developers could design their magic, so to speak. putting many different animations, and things that players could just watch the commands on the screen...
5. the game would be like this, players control left brain. all the right brain could do at the beginning might be functioning through a button. as the RPG kicking in, players could assign more things to the right brain. the whole fight mechanic might just be completely different compared to the beginning. at the beginning, it might feel like Oni, but at the end, according to players, fighting mechanic could eventually evolve into something like diablo, you just need to click senselessly... for those who have no interest in fighting out, the right brain will do it for you. but for those, who actually would like to duke it out and enjoy a good fight, they could use the character's left brain to do just that. I think there should many options for players to decide what kind performance a player prefer. it could go far to the right, or far to the left, and there should have many middle grounds as well.
Saturday, January 08, 2011
a study of myself
I think I have known myself well enough to do a research on myself. Where do I start?
First, I think I would like to define the meaning of "self". Since a person grows upon each passing moment, there must be many different "self". So for this article, I am going to write down what I know of myself, how I see myself, at the beginning of my 30th year of breathing. This should not include how I think of my past experience and action. Although my past experience and action brought me here and shape a large part of my self image. The reason for not including those is because I would like to look into mirror right now. If I looked at mirror right now, all I see will be a face, a sum of the results of my past experience and action. I am going to describe those results. That is my purpose here. My past experience and action would be another article.
I am five feet and 3 inches. It surprised me that I talked about my height first. I would always try to think that it does not bother me. I guess it does. I am a Chinese. I have glasses. I am not very pretty, at best, I am not ugly. Although I do not like to look into mirror and I do not like most of the photos I took after I came to USA. I can read, write and speak in Chinese. I also claim that I could speak, write, and read in English. Yes, I claim. I might be able to write the most basic English sentence without getting the most basic grammar wrong. I might be able to speak English, with incomplete pronunciation and accent. I feel that I blurt English words out too quickly with a voice no one can hear. I seemed to read a lot of English, but my memory of them is very poor. My mom read some of the books I read and asked me some of the things she could not understand, I found that half of the time, I did not understand either. So, yes, I could only claim that I am able to read, write, and speak English.
I feel that I am in love with a girl. But I also feel that I know it must be an imagined shadow since I don't really know that girl well. Plus the fact that I have not seen her for more than 7 years. It makes me heart ache to think that I do not really love her. I avert every girl I encounter. Although I feel I would like to know more about them. I feel I try very hard to keep myself away from them. But maybe it is not that hard. Since I have been trying to avoid girls for 7 years now. There are many reasons I myself formulated for doing this. The most basic one is I have nothing to give. I am extremely afraid of failure when I might be turned down. The current statue of myself, with no job, no skill, no income, do not know how to interact. There are always better person out there. I hate departure of people, absolutely Hate it. I will not be able to make her happy, safe, content. I also doubt my sexual ability. I love Nono. I miss her voice, her smile, her dress, the moments I met her in different occasions. But that is okay. I have my memories. I will always have Paris... lol
I always have big dreams when I first started to do something. I am easily discouraged though, very easily. I do not have friends. I might have somebody I could call playmate. I have a hard time making decision. Because you see, pro and con almost always equal themselves out. From this description, I feel I am too greedy. I want both ways. I cannot choose, so I stopped choosing. This is my theory for my difficulty in decision making anyway. It seems that I lack iron will to endure things. When I say, I am going to do something regularly. My promises flop usually.
I look around me, my room is disorganized to the extreme. I look at the clothes I am wearing, they are old and worn, except my pants and sucks. I have a hard time interacting with people. To say hi, takes some thoughts and preparation. And usually, I do not know what to say after Hi. When I see a person I feel I would love to say many interesting things, engage in some chit chat. I could not. The things come out of my mouth is awkward, irrelevant,disengaging. I feel I am just a person sitting far behind the back of my brain watching a bad movie. What could bring myself back to become whole again, is doing exercise, singing, watching a good movie, maybe some reading as well.
When I am with other human beings. I got a problem. How should I move around them? What should I say so I will not offend them? All these problems withhold me from playing basketball. Since I feel there is either I or them. It seems like a quest of decision making. Should I pass the ball? Or should I go for a layup? When I am not able to take an initiation to start a conversation, I could only listen and respond. This angers me. But to make a conversation, I think I need to be more relaxed. According to what I read about brain, my right brain needs to take over some load off my left brain. I probably feel a super strong sense of "I". But on the other hand, I feel I could see people's mood, I feel I am just watching them acting. If I see people around them, I could understand their feeling, their words as well. That sounds like a right brain functioning. Or maybe I am just guessing. The only thing I am sure right now is that I am super confused around people. I am very comfortable around cats and dogs though. But only the friendly ones. I feel sometimes I would flew into a rage if I met a nasty dog, or cat.
This it for tonight. I am turning in.
First, I think I would like to define the meaning of "self". Since a person grows upon each passing moment, there must be many different "self". So for this article, I am going to write down what I know of myself, how I see myself, at the beginning of my 30th year of breathing. This should not include how I think of my past experience and action. Although my past experience and action brought me here and shape a large part of my self image. The reason for not including those is because I would like to look into mirror right now. If I looked at mirror right now, all I see will be a face, a sum of the results of my past experience and action. I am going to describe those results. That is my purpose here. My past experience and action would be another article.
I am five feet and 3 inches. It surprised me that I talked about my height first. I would always try to think that it does not bother me. I guess it does. I am a Chinese. I have glasses. I am not very pretty, at best, I am not ugly. Although I do not like to look into mirror and I do not like most of the photos I took after I came to USA. I can read, write and speak in Chinese. I also claim that I could speak, write, and read in English. Yes, I claim. I might be able to write the most basic English sentence without getting the most basic grammar wrong. I might be able to speak English, with incomplete pronunciation and accent. I feel that I blurt English words out too quickly with a voice no one can hear. I seemed to read a lot of English, but my memory of them is very poor. My mom read some of the books I read and asked me some of the things she could not understand, I found that half of the time, I did not understand either. So, yes, I could only claim that I am able to read, write, and speak English.
I feel that I am in love with a girl. But I also feel that I know it must be an imagined shadow since I don't really know that girl well. Plus the fact that I have not seen her for more than 7 years. It makes me heart ache to think that I do not really love her. I avert every girl I encounter. Although I feel I would like to know more about them. I feel I try very hard to keep myself away from them. But maybe it is not that hard. Since I have been trying to avoid girls for 7 years now. There are many reasons I myself formulated for doing this. The most basic one is I have nothing to give. I am extremely afraid of failure when I might be turned down. The current statue of myself, with no job, no skill, no income, do not know how to interact. There are always better person out there. I hate departure of people, absolutely Hate it. I will not be able to make her happy, safe, content. I also doubt my sexual ability. I love Nono. I miss her voice, her smile, her dress, the moments I met her in different occasions. But that is okay. I have my memories. I will always have Paris... lol
I always have big dreams when I first started to do something. I am easily discouraged though, very easily. I do not have friends. I might have somebody I could call playmate. I have a hard time making decision. Because you see, pro and con almost always equal themselves out. From this description, I feel I am too greedy. I want both ways. I cannot choose, so I stopped choosing. This is my theory for my difficulty in decision making anyway. It seems that I lack iron will to endure things. When I say, I am going to do something regularly. My promises flop usually.
I look around me, my room is disorganized to the extreme. I look at the clothes I am wearing, they are old and worn, except my pants and sucks. I have a hard time interacting with people. To say hi, takes some thoughts and preparation. And usually, I do not know what to say after Hi. When I see a person I feel I would love to say many interesting things, engage in some chit chat. I could not. The things come out of my mouth is awkward, irrelevant,disengaging. I feel I am just a person sitting far behind the back of my brain watching a bad movie. What could bring myself back to become whole again, is doing exercise, singing, watching a good movie, maybe some reading as well.
When I am with other human beings. I got a problem. How should I move around them? What should I say so I will not offend them? All these problems withhold me from playing basketball. Since I feel there is either I or them. It seems like a quest of decision making. Should I pass the ball? Or should I go for a layup? When I am not able to take an initiation to start a conversation, I could only listen and respond. This angers me. But to make a conversation, I think I need to be more relaxed. According to what I read about brain, my right brain needs to take over some load off my left brain. I probably feel a super strong sense of "I". But on the other hand, I feel I could see people's mood, I feel I am just watching them acting. If I see people around them, I could understand their feeling, their words as well. That sounds like a right brain functioning. Or maybe I am just guessing. The only thing I am sure right now is that I am super confused around people. I am very comfortable around cats and dogs though. But only the friendly ones. I feel sometimes I would flew into a rage if I met a nasty dog, or cat.
This it for tonight. I am turning in.
Friday, January 07, 2011
老衣服
作者: fanghua
那天我又穿起了母親的背心， 小女兒看了吃吃地笑了起來，說 “ 你好像奶奶！”.我知道她的意思是說我穿了母親那件背心看起來比較老，而不是我看起來像她外婆， 畢竟她最後一次看到外婆時才三歲，自然是不會記得我母親的樣子。
每年秋季來臨時， 我照例從收納箱中翻出秋冬季的衣服， 我和母親一樣， 喜歡鮮豔的衣服，即使是冬天的衣服， 也鮮少是寒色的。 母親六十多歲時還在小學教書，上課時， 她的穿著總是比她同年齡的老師年輕。 她說孩子們也喜歡老師穿著鮮豔的衣服，看起來有精神， 不喜歡看到頭發和穿著都是灰灰的“老老師”， 這和她的個性一致，明朗，有朝氣，她的頭發也總是梳理得光光潔潔，整整齊齊的。
可是這個情況在我出國後慢慢有了改變。 出國前媽媽剛退休，身體尚可以出去走走逛逛， 有時我也幫她買衣服， 即使不如從前那麼鮮豔， 至少都是些看起來悅 人眼目的顏色，酒紅的，紫色的，寶藍或竹綠的， 絕對沒有灰色，土黃色或咖啡色等寒色。 後來母親較少出門了， 衣服自然都由嫂嫂們打理。 有回我回去， 她抱怨那些土黃色， 咖啡色的衣服， 讓她看起來臉色不好， 我想可能因為那些是嫂嫂們的母親習慣的顏色吧。 有天早上， 我便推著一歲多的女兒去商店裡給她買了幾件暖色的衣服。 母親皮膚白皙，什麼色都合適， 換了暖色的衣服後， 她臉色果然看起來好了許多， 她的精神也來了， 還記得那天她難得地跟著我和孩子去逛傳統市場，也不嫌人潮擁擠吵雜，我們還在市場的小攤上合吃了一碗當歸土虱湯。
後來媽媽中風，身心俱疲，自然對衣服也就無法講究了， 嫂嫂給她穿什麼， 她就穿什麼， 而這件土黃色，橘色和黑色相間的背心，料子保暖又實穿，就是我最後幾年回去看她時，她身上最常穿的一件。母親離世後， 我看著滿櫃子她穿過的衣服， 挑了些她過去赴宴時常穿的旗袍帶回來，雖然華麗而高雅， 但是我只能收在箱底，偶爾才拿出來看看，只有這件背心， 年年拿出來穿。 在天冷又不出門時， 我喜歡穿上它， 感覺好像回到孩提時被她擁在她的大衣下那種幸福和溫馨， 那麼近， 那麼暖；更更重要的是在廚房做飯時，偶爾抬頭看見窗戶玻璃上映出來穿著那件背心的自己， 我彷佛再一次瞥見母親的身影，有點兒模糊， 卻又那麼的熟悉。。。。
(來源: http://www.smallstation.net/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=4863)
那天我又穿起了母親的背心， 小女兒看了吃吃地笑了起來，說 “ 你好像奶奶！”.我知道她的意思是說我穿了母親那件背心看起來比較老，而不是我看起來像她外婆， 畢竟她最後一次看到外婆時才三歲，自然是不會記得我母親的樣子。
每年秋季來臨時， 我照例從收納箱中翻出秋冬季的衣服， 我和母親一樣， 喜歡鮮豔的衣服，即使是冬天的衣服， 也鮮少是寒色的。 母親六十多歲時還在小學教書，上課時， 她的穿著總是比她同年齡的老師年輕。 她說孩子們也喜歡老師穿著鮮豔的衣服，看起來有精神， 不喜歡看到頭發和穿著都是灰灰的“老老師”， 這和她的個性一致，明朗，有朝氣，她的頭發也總是梳理得光光潔潔，整整齊齊的。
可是這個情況在我出國後慢慢有了改變。 出國前媽媽剛退休，身體尚可以出去走走逛逛， 有時我也幫她買衣服， 即使不如從前那麼鮮豔， 至少都是些看起來悅 人眼目的顏色，酒紅的，紫色的，寶藍或竹綠的， 絕對沒有灰色，土黃色或咖啡色等寒色。 後來母親較少出門了， 衣服自然都由嫂嫂們打理。 有回我回去， 她抱怨那些土黃色， 咖啡色的衣服， 讓她看起來臉色不好， 我想可能因為那些是嫂嫂們的母親習慣的顏色吧。 有天早上， 我便推著一歲多的女兒去商店裡給她買了幾件暖色的衣服。 母親皮膚白皙，什麼色都合適， 換了暖色的衣服後， 她臉色果然看起來好了許多， 她的精神也來了， 還記得那天她難得地跟著我和孩子去逛傳統市場，也不嫌人潮擁擠吵雜，我們還在市場的小攤上合吃了一碗當歸土虱湯。
後來媽媽中風，身心俱疲，自然對衣服也就無法講究了， 嫂嫂給她穿什麼， 她就穿什麼， 而這件土黃色，橘色和黑色相間的背心，料子保暖又實穿，就是我最後幾年回去看她時，她身上最常穿的一件。母親離世後， 我看著滿櫃子她穿過的衣服， 挑了些她過去赴宴時常穿的旗袍帶回來，雖然華麗而高雅， 但是我只能收在箱底，偶爾才拿出來看看，只有這件背心， 年年拿出來穿。 在天冷又不出門時， 我喜歡穿上它， 感覺好像回到孩提時被她擁在她的大衣下那種幸福和溫馨， 那麼近， 那麼暖；更更重要的是在廚房做飯時，偶爾抬頭看見窗戶玻璃上映出來穿著那件背心的自己， 我彷佛再一次瞥見母親的身影，有點兒模糊， 卻又那麼的熟悉。。。。
(來源: http://www.smallstation.net/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=4863)
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