I was about 13 when an uncle gave me a copy of Jostein Gaarder's Sophie's World. It was full of ideas that were new to me, so I spent the summer with my head in and out of that book. It spoke to me and brought me into a world of philosophy(哲学).
That love for philosophy lasted until I got to college. Nothing kills the love for philososphy faster than people who think they understand Foucault, Baudrillard, or Confucius better than you—and then try to explain them.
Eric weiner's The Socrates Express: In Search of Life Lessons from Dead Philosophers reawakened my love for philosophy. It is not an explanation, but an invitation to think and experience philosophy.
Weiner starts each chapter with a scene on a train ride between cities and then frames each philosopher's work in the centext(背景) of one thing they can help us do better. The end result is a read in which we learn to wonder like Socrates, see like Thoreau, listen like Schopenhauer, and have no regrets like Nietzsche. This, more than a book about understanding philosophy, is a book abour learning touse philosophy to improve a life.
He makes philosophical thought an appealing exercise that improves the quality of our experiences, and he does so with plenty of humor. Weiner enters into conversation with some of the most important philosophers in history, and he becomes part of that crowd in the process by decoding(解读) their massages and adding his own interpretation.
The Socrates Express is a fun, sharp book that draws readers in with its apparent simplicity and gradually pulls them in deeper thoughts on desire, loneliness, and aging. The invitation is clear: Weiner wants you to pick up a coffee or tea and sit down with this book. I encourage you to take his offer. It's worth your time, even if time is something we don't have a lot of.
Born with severe hearing loss, Li has found her way to communicate with the world—through painting.
Before learning to paint, Li always felt lonely in a silent world. She knew she was different from her peers because she could not hear. But a painting class in primary school opened for her a door to creativity and a way of expression.
"I still remember my first mural, which was to help a kindergarten to design and paint its wall," Li says. "The project made me realize how happy I was immersing myself into painting."
To pursue her passion for art, Li went to study advertising design at a vocational and technical school. "Painting brushes can help me create a colorful world in my imagination, telling my thoughts on paper, instead of through voices," Li said.
Graduating from college in 2005, Li got a job as a typist at a public institute. But she could not communicate well with her other colleagues. Her husband understood how she felt because he lost his hearing due to medication when he was 1 year old. He is also an art lover. In March 2016, under her husband's suggestion, Li quit her job and joined her husband's company, which specializes in 3D wall and ground paintings.
Wall painting is a demanding job because it requires people to work outdoors, whether in extremely cold or hot weather. As all the people are hearing-impaired in their company, communication with clients is the most common challenge that the team faces.
Now in many parks and scenic spots, the couple have created large-scale murals and interactive pavement painting that make onlookers a part of the drawings.
"My husband and I want to introduce painting to more people like us and help them find their own way to make a living," Li says. Now Li has an apprentice who just graduated from college. While coaching the newcomer, Li is exploring her own style and hopes to become an illustrator and open her own exhibition one day.
"They're energetic young people with a passion to create new things, and you can feel that in their paintings," one of their clients said. "They're also a professional, dedicated team, often working late into the night on the designs for us."
Li hopes that their stories can encourage more hearing-impaired people to build their own careers and achieve their goals, regardless of how tough it may be.
What a day! I started at my new school this morning and had the best time. I made lots of new friends and really liked my teachers. I was nervous the night before, but I had no reason to be. Everyone was so friendly and polite. They made me feel at ease. It was like I'd been at the school for a hundred years!
The day started very early at 7:00 a.m. I had my breakfast downstairs with my mum. She could tell that I was very nervous. Mum kept asking me what was wrong. She told me I had nothing to worry about and that everyone was going to love me. If they didn't love me, Mum said to send them her way for a good talking to. I couldn't stop laughing.
My mum dropped me off at the school gate about five minutes before the bell. A little blonde(金发的) girl got dropped off at the same time and started waving(招手) at me. She ran over and told me her name was Abigail. She was very nice and we became close straightaway. We spent all morning together and began to talk to another girl called Stacey. The three of us sat together in class all day and we even made our way home together! It went so quickly. Our teacher told us that tomorrow we would really start learning and developing new skills.
I cannot wait until tomorrow and feel as though I am really going to enjoy my time at my new school. I only hope that my new friends feel the same way too.
My Grandpa Forgets Who I Am
A few days ago I visited my grandfather in hospital. He has Alzhemier's—a degenerative disease that usually starts slowly and gets worse over time. I thought I was prepared to see him. I knew chances were slim that he'd actually recognize me.
He didn't. As a matter of fact, he had no idea that he even had grandchildren. But he was excited that somebody came to visit him. I tried to explain to him who I was. But after he told me multiple times that he didn't have grandchildren, I gave up. And my heart broke into a million little pieces.
I was tired of explaining things to him. So I just smiled. He smiled back. It's a genuine smile. Like a long time ago, when he'd take me by the hand and made this big world a little bit less scary for me. Now I have to take his hand.
We sat in silence for a little while, before he told me to call my grandma. This was the first time I had tried so hard to hold back tears. My grandma died four years ago and he didn't remember. He thought she was stuck on her way to pick him up.
My grandpa used to be a strong, hard-working man. He was the person you turned to when you needed your car fixed, your tires changed or something heavy to be carried. Sadly, that man left this world a long time ago, and left behind a man that is lost and scared.
I want to help him. I want to make him feel better. I want to tell him about his old life, and how great it was. So I sat with him and I held his hand, and every once in a while I told him how good he looked and how much I liked the color of his shirt and how it brought out the blue in his eyes. I told him that my grandma was on her way whenever he asked about her, and I made sure the glass in his hand was always filled with water.
I can't take away his pain. I can't help him remember. I can't make the disease go away. All I can do is hold on to the memories—hold on for both of us.
Last Sunday, an earthquake struck the Napa Valley area of northern California. It happened in the middle of the night, becoming the strongest earthquake to strike the Napa Valley in 15 years. No one was killed, but many people were treated in hospitals.
I said to my seven-year-old twins, Brad and Brett, and three-year-old Meghan, "We have so much, and these poor people in trouble now have nothing. We'll share what we have with them."
I filled a box with foods and clothes. While I was doing this, I advised the boys to choose their toys and donate some of their less favourite things. Meghan watched quietly as the boys took out their old toys and put them together. Then she walked away. A few minutes later she came back with Lucy, her much-loved doll. She put the doll on top of the other toys.
"Oh, dear," I said. "You don't have to give Lucy. You love her so much." Meghan said, "Lucy makes me happy, Mummy. Maybe she'll make another little girl happy, too."
I looked at Meghan for a long moment. She taught me a lesson. It's easy to give something that we don't want any more, but hard to give what we cherish (珍爱), isn't it?
In my childhood, my mother spent her evening hours doing something for someone else. Sometimes she knitted(编织) hats for babies, and at other times, she cooked chicken soup for sick neighbors. Therefore, I wasn't surprised when one evening my mother announced she had undertaken a new project.
"I am going to telephone seniors," said my mother. "Every night? But you don't even know these people." "It doesn't matter," she said, "What's important is that I listen."
I was sixteen years old and couldn't understand why my mother was willing to spend her evenings talking to strangers. She had friends and my two older sisters to call if she felt lonely. "They will talk your ear off. Some people didn't even stop to catch breath." I said.
My attitude didn't stop my mother's enthusiasm for the project. That evening, she settled on the sofa and dialed. When she finished the call, I said, "Why do you care whether she had cookies or rice pudding for dessert?" My mother grasped one of my hands and said in a proud tune, "I'm the only person she talked to today."
It took me more than thirty years to fully understand the meaning of that statement. Now, as my mother is near eighty, I find myself thinking about those nightly calls she used to make. I am often the only person who telephones my mother, and sometimes I'm the only person she speaks to all day. I ask her what she cooked for dinner, but mostly I just listen as she describes a walk she took, or how her dog Lucky stole foods from the refrigerator. I realize that my mother's calls were life lines that ensured housebound seniors remained connected to the world. Without her, their world would have been empty.
