Always the years between us. Always the years. Always the love. Always the hours.
离开十几天,归来豁然竟已是另一季。时差所带来的恍惚中,有梦的错觉。究竟是刚刚从梦中愣忡醒来,抑或是不小心又步入了另一梦境?
那迎面带着些许凉意的五月怡人的微风,那些新绿的树,那些人家屋前亭亭的郁金香,分明是在诉说着什么,可是一切却又是那么静静的,沉默无语,相对于梦的另一端。
梦的另一端,是的,跨越太平洋的另一端。炎热,潮湿,嘈杂,南方的夏季过早的显示着它的威力,城市的喧嚣繁忙中生命似乎可以轻易地被带走,掩盖,不着痕迹。红楼梦中宝玉爱说的话是,恨不能死了化成灰了,烟了,让女孩子们明白他的心。人死了,也真的是转瞬间灰飞烟灭。任再怎么强大魁梧的一个人,也就是那么个小小骨灰盒装着了。 生命被带走了,灵魂还在吗?能量是守恒的,那么就真的是你中有我,我中有你了,甚至于那些花儿草儿里也不定有我们哪一世的灵魂。 那些关于前世今生的传说,不知该不该相信是真的。也许当面对死亡的时候,人们情愿相信有灵魂,而不愿去面对虚无。甚至连无神论的医生们也鼓励垂危的病人皈依某种宗教,以帮助他们面对死亡的痛苦。
Virginia Woolf said in "The Hours" :
Someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more. It's contrast.
只有那些漫山遍野的黄花,不甘寂寞地灿烂着,提醒着我,此处不是梦的另一端。此处又到了“满城尽带黄金甲”的季节,只是此黄花非彼黄花。记得初到加国,就曾经被这些铺天盖地的蒲公英所击中。童年关于北方的记忆因了这些小小的黄花而苏醒,仍记得当时的那份欣喜。可是不久后在ESL课堂上就听到那个慈祥的老太太用深恶痛绝的语气教新移民们如何彻底铲除这种小黄花。当时别提有多震惊了。生命因为泛滥而不被珍视,甚至被憎恨。同样黄色的花,凡高的向日葵备受推崇,而蒲公英们何罪之有,却受到如此的敌视。它们短暂的绚烂只为其后漫天的蒲公英的种子随着小小的降落伞播种天下。万物的本性仅仅是为了繁衍后代啊。只是人类把生存问题复杂化了,奢华享乐,舍本逐末,人类忘记了自己并不是任何生命的主宰,包括他们自己。
Always the hours...
The hours before any life, the hours after any life。生命如匆匆过客,在时空的长河里穿行,代代相传,生生不息。
一些生命离去了,另一些生命降临了。我穿梭奔忙于那个炎热城市的不同医院之间,见证着生与死的洗礼。五月的那个城市,巍然屹立在梦的另一端,没有风,即使是微风也没有。可是就在这绝对的静默中,我分明听到了一首无语的歌。
“We live our lives, do whatever we do, and then we sleep. It's as simple and ordinary as that. A few jump out windows, or drown themselves, or take pills; more die by accident; and most of us are slowly devoured by some disease, or, if we're very fortunate, by time itself. There's just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds & expectations, to burst open & give us everything we've ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) know these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning, we hope, more than anything for more. Heaven only knows why we love it so. ”