The Ninth Tuesday
第九个星期二
We Talk About How Love Goes On
我们聊了聊爱如何继续
I came to love the way Morrie lit up when I entered the room.
我喜欢当我走进房间时莫瑞面露喜色的方式。
He did this for many people, I know, but it was his special talent to make each visitor feel that the smile was unique.
他对很多人都这样，我知道，但是他有他独特的才能能够让每一个来访者觉得他的微笑是独属于他们的。
" Ahhh, it's my buddy," he would say when he saw me, in that foggy, high- pitched voice.
“哎呀呀，是我的小老弟来了呀，”当他看见我时他会用那含混的高音对我这么说。
And it didn't stop with the greeting.
即使是在问候的时候也不会停止。
When Morrie was with you, he was really with you.
当莫瑞和你在一起的时候，他是真正的全身心地和你在一起。
He looked you straight in the eye, and he listened as if you were the only person in the world.
他会直视你的眼睛，而且他会仿若你是世界上唯一一个人一样来倾听你。
How much better would people get along if their first encounter each day were like this ——instead of a grumble from a waitress or a bus driver or a boss?
要是人们每天的第一次见面都能像这样的话那人们之间的相处该要好上多少啊——而不是因为服务员或者公交车司机或者上司而抱怨？
" I believe in being fully present," Morrie said.
“我相信全身心地在场，”莫瑞说道。
" That means you should be with the person you're with. When I'm talking to you now, Mitch, I try to keep focused only on what is going on between us. I am not thinking about something we said last week. I am not thinking of what's coming up this Friday. I am not thinking about doing another Koppel show, or about what medications I'm taking."
“意思是你应该和跟你同在的人在一起。当我现在正在和你说话的时候，米契，我会努力集中精力在仅仅发生于我们之间的事情上。我不会想着我们上周说过的事情。我不会想着这周五会发生什么。我更不会想着和科佩尔再做一期节目的事情，或者我正在做的什么治疗。”
" I am talking to you, I am thinking about you,"
“当我在跟你说话的时候，我就在想着你。”
I remembered how he used to teach this idea in the Group Process class back at Brandeis.
我记得还在布兰迪斯大学的时候，他以前在群体治疗课上是如何教授这个理念的。
I had scoffed back then, thinking this was hardly a lesson plan for a university course.
我那时却嘲讽了回去，觉得这简直不应该是大学课程该有的课程计划。
Learning to pay attention?
学习去集中注意力？
How important could that be?
以及集中注意力有多重要？
I now know it is more important than almost everything they taught us in college.
我现在明白了这几乎要比他们在大学教我们的任何课程都更加重要。
Morrie motioned for my hand, and as l gave it to him, I felt a surge of guilt.
莫瑞说到我的手，我在把手递给他时，感到一阵羞愧。
Here was a man who, if he wanted, could spend every waking moment in self-pity, feeling his body for decay, counting his breaths.
这里坐着的可是一个如果他愿意，可以把每一分每一秒清醒的时间花在自怨自艾，感受身体的逐渐衰败，数着每一个呼吸的男人呀。
So many people with far smaller problems are so self-absorbed, their eyes glaze over if you speak for more than thirty seconds.
太多有着相似问题的人们会非常自我内耗，如果你跟他们说话超过30秒钟恐怕他们的眼神已经呆滞转移了。
They already have something else in mind ——a friend to call, a fax to send, a lover they're daydreaming about.
他们的脑子里已经有别的事情了——想打电话的朋友，想发的电报，日思夜想的爱人。
They only snap back to full attention when you finish talking, at which point they say "Uh-huh" or " Yeah, really" and fake their way back to the moment.
他们只有在当你说完话的时候会瞬间回神，那时他们会说“对对”或者“是的，没错”然后假装回到当下。
" Part of the problem, Mitch, is that everyone is in such a hurry," Morrie said.
“部分问题在于，米契，每一个人都如此匆忙，”莫瑞说道。
" People haven't found meaning in their lives, so they're running all the time looking for it. They think the next car, the next house, the next job. Then they find those things are empty, too, and they keep running."
“人们尚未找到生活的意义，所以他们一直奔忙着去寻找。他们想着下一辆车，下一栋房子，下一份工作。然后他们发现这些事情也都是无意义的，却还是持续奔忙着。”
Once you start running, I said, it's hard to slow yourself down.
一旦你开始忙起来，我说，就很难让自己慢下来了。
" Not so hard," he said, shaking his head,
“也没那么难吧，”他说着，摇了摇头。
" Do you know what I do? When someone wants to get ahead of me in traffic ——when I used to be able to drive —— I would raise my hand..."
“你知道我会做什么吗？当有人试图在车流中超我的车时——那时我还能开车——我会举起手。。。”
He tried to do this now, but the hand lifted weakly, only six inches.
他现在在试着举起手来，可是只能无力地抬起六英寸高。
"... I would raise my hand, as if I was going to make a negative gesture, and then I would wave and smile. Instead of giving them the finger, you let them go, and you smile."
“我会抬起手，好像我要做一个很不好的手势一样，然后我会挥挥手并且微笑。不是给他们竖中指，而是让他们过去，然后微笑。”
" You know what? A lot of times they smiled back."
“你知道吗？很多时候他们会回过来一个微笑。”
" The truth is, I don't have to be in that much of a hurry with my car. I would rather put my energies into people."
“事实上，我在车里压根不必多么着急。我更愿意把精力投入到人身上。”
He did this better than anyone l'd ever known.
这点上他比我认识的任何人都要做得好。
Those who sat with him saw his eyes go moist when they spoke about something horrible, or crinkle in delight when they told him a really bad joke.
当那些来跟莫瑞一起坐坐的人们说到一些可怕的事情时，会看到莫瑞的眼睛湿润了，或者当他们讲了一个不太好笑的笑话时，也会看到莫瑞愉悦的皱起脸。
He was always ready to openly display the emotion so often missing from my baby boomer generation.
莫瑞总是时刻准备着去展现我们婴儿潮（大概和90后的父母是同一代人）这代人身上常常缺失的情感。
We are great at small talk: "What do you do?" "Where do you live?" But really listening to someone——without trying to sell them something, pick them up, recruit them, or get some kind of status in return——how often do we get this anymore? I believe many visitors in the last few months of Morrie's life were drawn not because of the attention they wanted to pay to him but because of the attention he paid to them.
虽然我们很擅长闲聊：“你是做什么的？”“你住哪？”但是真正的去倾听他人——且不是为了努力给他们卖东西，接送他们，招募他们，或者为了去获得某些情况的进展——有多久才能有一次呢？我相信在莫瑞生命过去几个月里的很多拜访者被他吸引并不是因为他们想给莫瑞关注而是莫瑞给他们的关注。
Despite his personal pain and decay, this little old man listened the way they always wanted someone to listen.
抛却莫瑞个人的痛苦和衰亡，这个小老头总是会以他们希望的方式去倾听这些人们。
I told him he was the father everyone wishes they had.
我告诉莫瑞他是每个人都希望能有的父亲。
" Well," he said, closing his eyes, " I have some experience in that area..."
“确实，”莫瑞一边说着，一边闭上眼睛，“我在当爸爸的领域确实有一些经验。。。”
The last time Morrie saw his own father was in a city morgue.
莫瑞最后一次见到他的父亲是在停尸间。
Charlie Schwartz was a quiet man who liked to read his newspaper, alone, under a streetlamp on Tremont Avenue in the Bronx.
查理•施瓦茨是一个安静的男人，他喜欢读着他的报纸，一个人，驻足在布朗克斯的特雷蒙大街的路灯下。
Every night, when Morrie was little, Charlie would go for a walk after dinner.
每个晚上，那时莫瑞还小，查理在晚饭之后会出去散步。
He was a small Russian man, with a ruddy complexion and a full head of grayish hair.
查理是一个矮个子的俄罗斯男人，有着红润的面色和满头类似浅灰色的头发。
Morrie and his brother, David, would look out the window and see him leaning against the lamppost, and Morrie wished he would come inside and talk to them, but he rarely did.
莫瑞和他的弟弟，大卫，会从窗户往外面看，看着他倚靠在灯柱上，并且希望他能回家里来跟他说说话，可是查理几乎从来不这么做。
Nor did he tuck them in, nor kiss them good-night.
查理也不会给他们去掖掖被角，或者晚安亲亲。
Morrie always swore he would do these things for his own children if he ever had any.
莫瑞一直暗暗发誓如果他能有孩子他一定会为他们做这些。
And years later, when he had them, he did.
经年以后，当莫瑞有了孩子，他确实这么做了。
Meanwhile, as Morrie raised his own children, Charlie was still living in the Bronx.
与此同时，在莫瑞抚养他自己的孩子的时候，查理仍然住在布朗克斯。
He still took that walk.
他仍然出去散步。
He still read the paper.
他仍然读报纸。
One night, he went outside after dinner.
一天晚上，他晚饭后出去散步。
A few blocks from home, he was accosted by two robbers.
离家几个街区外，他被两个劫匪拦住搭话。
" Give us your money," one said, pulling a gun.
“把你的钱给我，”一个劫匪说着，一边掏出了枪。
Frightened, Charlie threw down his wallet and began to run.
查理吓坏了，把钱包扔远就开始逃跑。
He ran through the streets, and kept running until he reached the steps of a relative's house, where he collapsed on the porch.
他沿街跑着，一直跑，直到他跑到了一个亲戚家房子的台阶旁，倒在了门廊上。
Heart attack.
心脏病发作。
He died that night.
那天晚上他死了。
Morrie was called to identify the body.
莫瑞接到电话去辨认尸体。
He flew to New York and went to the morgue.
他飞到纽约去到了停尸间。
He was taken down-stairs, to the cold room where the corpses were kept.
他被带领着走下楼体，走向存放尸体的冰冷房间。
" Is this your father?" the attendant asked.
“这是你的父亲吗？”看护问道。
Morrie looked at the body behind the glass, the body of the man who had scolded him and molded him and taught him to work, who had been quiet when Morrie wanted him to speak, who had told Morrie to swallow his memories of his mother when he wanted to share them with the world.
莫瑞看着玻璃后面的遗体，那个曾责骂他，塑造他，教他去工作，那个在莫瑞希望他说话时却沉默，那个在莫瑞想要跟全世界分享时却告诉他要吞下关于母亲所有记忆的男人的遗体。
He nodded and he walked away.
莫瑞点了点头转身走了。
The horror of the room, he would later say, sucked all other functions out of him.
那个房间的恐怖，莫瑞后来说，几乎吸干了他全身的运转机能。
He did not cry until days later.
直到数天之后他才哭了出来。
Still, his father's death helped prepare Morrie for his own.
虽然如此，父亲的死亡也还是帮助莫瑞做好了迎接自己死亡的准备。
This much he knew: there would be lots of holding and kissing and talking and laughter and no good-byes left unsaid, all the things he missed with his father and his mother.
他至少知道这么多：他的死亡要有很多很多的拥抱，亲吻，交谈，笑声而且不会留下没说的告别，所有这些他与父母错过的告别。
When the final moment came, Morrie wanted his loved ones around him, knowing what was happening.
当最后一刻来临的时候，莫瑞希望他的亲人围绕身边，知晓发生了什么。
No one would get a phone call, or a telegram, or have to look through a glass window in some cold and foreign basement.
不会有人接到报丧的电话，或者电报，或者得向一堵冰冷陌生地下室的玻璃墙看过去。
In the South American rainforest, there is a tribe called the Desana, who see the world as a fixed quantity of energy that flows between all creatures.
在南美洲的热带雨林里，有一个叫做德萨那的部落，他们将整个世界看作在所有生物之间流动的总体恒定的能量。
Every birth must therefore engender a death, and every death bring forth another birth.
每一个出生必定相应引发死亡，而每一次死亡也会催生出另一个出生。
This way, the energy of the world remains complete.
如此，世界上的能量就会保持完整。
When they hunt for food, the Desana know that the animals they kill will leave a hole in the spiritual well.
在他们猎取食物的时候，德萨那人知道那些他们杀死的动物会在灵魂之井里留下空洞。
But that hole will be filled, they believe, by the souls of the Desana hunters when they die.
但是他们相信，这个空洞会被填满，在德萨那的猎人们死亡的时候会被他们的灵魂填上。
Were there no men dying, there would be no birds or fish being born.
如果没有人类死亡，也就不会有鸟或者鱼新生。
I like this idea.
我很喜欢这个说法。
Morrie likes it, too.
莫瑞也很喜欢。
The closer he gets to good-bye, the more he seems to feel we are all creatures in the same forest.
越是接近于说再见的时刻，他越是感到我们都是生活在同一片森林的生物。
What we take, we must replenish.
我们拿走的东西，也必定要补充回来。
" It's only fair," he says.
“唯有如此，才算公平。”他说。
原著：Mitch Albom
