上天让我经历逆境，体验束缚的滋味，并定下规则约束我们，让我们从中成长起来，获得人生的力量……

One windy spring day, I observed young people having fun using the wind to fly their kites. Multicolored creations of varying shapes and sizes filled the skies like beautiful birds darting and dancing. As the strong winds gusted against the kites, a string kept them in check.

Instead of blowing away with the wind, they arose against it to achieve great heights. They shook and pulled, but the restraining string and the cumbersome tail kept them in tow, facing upward and against the wind. As the kites struggled and kept them in tow, facing upward and against the wind. As the kites struggled and trembled against the string, they seemed to say,” Let me go! Let me go! I want to be free!” they soared beautifully even as they fought the restriction of the string. Finally, one of the kites succeeded in breaking loose. “Free at last,” it seemed to say. “Free to fly with the wind.”

Yet freedom from restraint simply put it at the mercy of an unsympathetic breeze. It fluttered ungracefully to the ground and landed in a tangled mass of weeds and string against a dead bush. ”Free at last”, free to lie powerless in the dirt, to be blown helplessly along the ground, and to lodge lifeless against the first obstruction.

How much like kites we sometimes are. The heaven gives us adversity and restrictions, rules to follow from which we can grow and gain strength. Restraint is a necessary counterpart to the winds of opposition. Some of us tug at the rules so hard that we never soar to reach the heights we might have obtained. We keep part of the commandment and never rise high enough to get our tails off the ground.

Let us each rise to the great heights, recognizing that some of the restraints that we may chafe under are actually the steadying force that helps us ascend and achieve.

A lecturer was giving a lecture to his student on stress management. He raised a glass of water and asked the audience, ”How heavy do you think this glass of water is?”

The students’ answers ranged from 20g to 500g.

“It does not matter on the absolute weight. It depends on how long you hold it. If I hold it for a minute, it is OK. If I hold it for an hour, I will have an ache in my right arm. If I hold it for a day, you will have to call an ambulance. It is the exact same weight, but the longer I hold it, the heavier it becomes.

“If we carry our burdens all the time, sooner or later, we will not be able to carry on, the burden becoming increasingly heavier.

“What you have to do is to put the glass down, rest for a while before holding it up again.”

We have to put down the burden periodically, so that we can be refreshed and are able to carry on.

So before you return home from work tonight, put the burden of work down. Don’t carry it back home. You can pick it up tomorrow.

Whatever burdens you are having now on your shoulders, let it down for moment if you can.

Life is short, enjoy it!!

Years ago a farmer owned land along the Atlantic seacoast. He constantly advertised for hired hands. Most people were reluctant to work on farms along the Atlantic. They dreaded the awful storms that raged across the Atlantic，wreaking havoc on the buildings and crops. As the farmer interviewed applicants for the job，he received a steady stream of refusals.

Finally，a short，thin man，well past middle age，approached the farmer. “Are you a good farmhand？”the farmer asked him.

“Well，I can sleep when the wind blows，” answered the little man.

Although puzzled by this answer，the farmer，desperate for help，hired him. The little man worked well around the farm，busy from dawn to dusk，and the farmer felt satisfied with the man s work.

Then one night the wind howled loudly in from offshore. Jumping out of bed，the farmer grabbed a lantern and rushed next door to the hired hand s sleeping quarters. He shook the little man and yelled，“Get up！ A storm is coming！ Tie things down before they blow away！”

The little man rolled over in bed and said firmly，“No sir. I told you，I can sleep when the wind blows.”

Enraged by the response，the farmer was tempted to fire him on the spot. Instead，he hurried outside to prepare for the storm. To his amazement，he discovered that all of the haystacks had been covered with tarpaulins. The cows were in the barn，the chickens were in the coops，and the doors were barred. The shutters were tightly secured. Everything was tied down. Nothing could blow away.

The farmer then understood what his hired hand meant，so he returned to his bed to also sleep while the wind blew.

MORAL： When you re prepared，spiritually，mentally，and physically，you have nothing to fear.

史蒂夫已经12岁了，他的父母都是酒鬼，他几乎都要辍学了。然而，他阅读能力不错，但他总是考试不及格。从一年级开始，一直这样。史蒂夫长得很健壮，看上去比12岁的孩子要大。但他一直都被人忽略，直到有一天怀特老师的到来。

Steve, a twelve-year-old boy with alcoholic parents, was about to be lost forever, by the U.S. education system. Remarkably, he could read, yet, in spite of his reading skills, Steve was failing. He had been failing since first grade, as he was passed on from grade to grade. Steve was a big boy, looking more like a teenager than a twelve year old, yet, Steve went unnoticed... until Miss White.

Miss White was a smiling, young, beautiful redhead, and Steve was in love! For the first time in his young life, he couldn’t take his eyes off his teacher; yet, still he failed. He never did his homework, and he was always in trouble with Miss White. His heart would break under her sharp words, and when he was punished for failing to turn in his homework, he felt just miserable! Still, he did not study.

In the middle of the first semester of school, the entire seventh grade was tested for basic skills. Steve hurried through his tests, and continued to dream of other things, as the day wore on. His heart was not in school, but in the woods, where he often escaped alone, trying to shut out the sights, sounds and smells of his alcoholic home. No one checked on him to see if he was safe. No one knew he was gone, because no one was sober enough to care. Oddly, Steve never missed a day of school.

One day, Miss White’s impatient voice broke into his daydreams.

“Steve!!” Startled, he turned to look at her.

“Pay attention!”

Steve locked his gaze on Miss White with adolescent adoration, as she began to go over the test results for the seventh grade.

“You all did pretty well,” she told the class, “except for one boy, and it breaks my heart to tell you this, but...” She hesitated, pinning Steve to his seat with a sharp stare, her eyes searching his face.

“...The smartest boy in the seventh grade is failing my class!”

She just stared at Steve, as the class spun around for a good look. Steve dropped his eyes and carefully examined his fingertips.

After that, it was war!! Steve still wouldn’t do his homework. Even as the punishments became more severe, he remained stubborn.

“Just try it! ONE WEEK!” He was unmoved.

“You’re smart enough! You’ll see a change!” Nothing fazed him.

“Give yourself a chance! Don’t give up on your life!” Nothing.

“Steve! Please! I care about you!”

Wow! Suddenly, Steve got it!! Someone cared about him? Someone, totally unattainable and perfect, CARED ABOUT HIM??!!

Steve went home from school, thoughtful, that afternoon. Walking into the house, he took one look around. Both parents were passed out, in various stages of undress, and the stench was overpowering! He, quickly, gathered up his camping gear, a jar of peanut butter, a loaf of bread, a bottle of water, and this time...his schoolbooks. Grim faced and determined, he headed for the woods.

The following Monday he arrived at school on time, and he waited for Miss White to enter the classroom. She walked in, all sparkle and smiles! God, she was beautiful! He yearned for her smile to turn on him. It did not.

Miss White, immediately, gave a quiz on the weekend homework. Steve hurried through the test, and was the first to hand in his paper. With a look of surprise, Miss White took his paper. Obviously puzzled, she began to look it over. Steve walked back to his desk, his heart pounding within his chest. As he sat down, he couldn’t resist another look at the lovely woman.

Miss White’s face was in total shock! She glanced up at Steve, then down, then up.

Suddenly, her face broke into a radiant smile. The smartest boy in the seventh grade had just passed his first test!

From that moment nothing was the same for Steve. Life at home remained the same, but life still changed. He discovered that not only could he learn, but he was good at it!

He discovered that he could understand and retain knowledge, and that he could translate the things he learned into his own life. Steve began to excel! And he continued this course throughout his school life.

After high-school Steve enlisted in the Navy, and he had a successful military career. During that time, he met the love of his life, he raised a family, and he graduated from college Magna Cum Laude. During his Naval career, he inspired many young people, who without him, might not have believed in themselves. Steve began a second career after the Navy, and he continues to inspire others, as an adjunct professor in a nearby college Miss White left a great legacy. She saved one boy who has changed many lives.

You see, it’s simple, really. A change took place within the heart of one boy, all because of one teacher, who cared.

生命中没有什么恒久不变的风景，只要你的心永远朝着太阳，每一个清晨都会向你展现一番美景，等着你去欣赏——这个世界总会带给你新的希望。

From the window of my room, I could see a tall cotton-rose hibiscus. In spring, when green foliage was half hidden by mist, the tree looked very enchanting dotted with red blossom. This inspiring neighbor of mine often set my mind working. I gradually regarded it as my best friend.

Nevertheless, when I opened the window one morning, to my amazement, the tree was almost bare beyond recognition as a result of the storm ravages the night before. Struck by the plight, I was seized with a sadden saddens at the thought “all the blossom is doomed to fall”. I could not help sighing with emotion: the course of life never runs smooth, for there are so many ups and downs, twists and turns. The vicissitudes of my life saw my beloved friends parting one after another. Isn’t it similar to the tree shedding its flowers in the wind?


This event faded from my memory as time went by. One day after I came home from the countryside, I found the room stuffy and casually opened the window. Something outside caught my eye and dazzled me. It was a plum tree all scarlet with blossom set off beautifully by the sunset. The surprise discovery overwhelmed me with pleasure. I wondered why I had no idea of some unyielding life sprouting over the fallen petals when I was grieving for the hibiscus.

When the last withered petal dropped, all the joyful admiration for the hibiscus sank into oblivion as if nothing was left, until the landscape was again ablaze with the red plum blossom to remind people of life’s alternation and continuance. Can’t it be said that life is actually a symphony, a harmonious composition of loss gain.

Standing by the window lost in thought for a long time, I realized that no scenery in the world remains unchanged. As long as you keep your heart basking in the sun, every dawn will present a fine prospect for you to unfold and the world will always be about new hopes.

若你不再喜欢一个人，只需捂上耳朵；若你紧闭双眼，只会将爱化作一滴泪，永存心间。

In front of the person you love, your heart beats faster, but in front of the person you like, you get happy.

In front of the person you love, winter seems like spring, but in front of the person you like, winter is just beautiful winter.

If you look into the eyes of the one you love, you blush, but if you look into the eyes of the person you like, you smile.

If front of the person you love, you can’t say everything on your mind, but in front of the person you like, you can.

In front of the person you love, you tend to get shy, but in front of the person you like, you can show your own self.

You can’t look straight into the eyes of the one you love, but you can always smile into the eyes of the one you like.

When the one you love is crying, you cry with him, but when the one you like is crying, you end up comforting.

The feeling of love starts from the eye, and the feeling of like starts from the ears.

So if you stop liking a person you used to like, all you need to do is cover your ears. But if you try to close your eyes, love turns into a teardrop and remains in your heart forever after.

无论身处何处，我总会找一个让自己不快乐的理由。不论是酷暑还是寒冬，健康还是疾病，富有还是贫穷，我总是想让自己的处境有所改变。但我将不再这样，我将为眼前的处境找一个开心的理由……

It has been so bitterly cold here in Pennsylvania.

I can’t remember a winter being as cold as this, but I’m sure there were colder days.

Even though the daylight hours are growing longer minute by minute, it’s easy to find an excuse not to go out unless you absolutely must, but then again I often have to push myself to accomplish things.

People I speak to have been in all kinds of nasty moods. They say they’re “under the weather,” not feeling good about this time of year.

As I stood outside with my two dogs yesterday, it was so cold that my nose and face felt crisp and my cars were stinging.

Of course, that doesn’t matter to Ricky and Lucy. They have a routine they must go through to find just the fight spot no matter how cold or hot it is.

So I wait.

But this time it was different. As cold as it was, I suddenly was invigorated thinking about how wonderful this extreme cold really was.

Then the sun broke through the clouds and memories of summer’s scorching hot days flashed through my mind. I could remember standing in the heat of the afternoon, sweat pouring down my brow and the hot, burning sun againse my face. I reminded myself then and there that in the cold of the winter I would wish I had this heat.

I was right.

Two extremes in my life that most of the time I find uncomfortable, I normally dread them and gripe about it all the way through.

But today I was grateful for them. Without the extremes in my life, I would never appreciate the days when things were just right. Without the extremes life would be boring.

It’s being pushed to one of the extremes that makes us appreciate the middle more. Health challenges reminds us that we need to pay more attention to how we live. Financial extremes reminds us that when things are in excess it’s time to tuck away for when the times are lean.

So bring on the cold so I appreciate the heat more.

Make me sweat on a hot summer’s day so I wish I had a handful of snow to rub my face in.

I’ve come to the conclusion that all too often I find a reason not to be happy with where I am at that moment.

Whether it’s hot or cold, good health or bad, in the money or out of it, I always wanted it to be different.

But no more. I want to start finding a reason to be happy right where I am. Even if it’s simply the fact that I’m alive.

I’m tired of being “Under the Weather!”

ah, beautiful paris. for centuries this city has attracted the admiration of the world. the allure and charm of paris captivate all who visit there.   
　　啊，美丽的巴黎！几世纪来，这个城市吸引了整个世界的崇拜。巴黎的诱惑与魅力吸引了所有到此游玩的人。   
　　where can you discover the charm of paris for yourself? is it in the legacy of all the french rulers who worked to beautify their beloved city? is it in the famous castles, palaces, statues and monuments, such as the eiffel tower? can you find it in the world-class museums, such as the louvre? perhaps paris' allure lies in the zest and style of the parisians.   
　　你在哪里可以找到巴黎对你自己的吸引力呢？是否是在历任的法国统治者们在美化他所钟爱的城市所留下來的遗产里？还是在那些有名的城堡、皇宫雕像和纪念碑例如艾菲尔铁塔之中？你能否在世界一流的博物馆，倒如卢浮宫中找着呢？或许巴黎的诱惑力在于巴黎人的特殊品味和风格。   
　　when you visit paris, you don't have to spend all of your time visiting museums and monuments. they are certainly worthy of your time, but ignore them for a day. first take some time to look around and experience life in paris. you'll find it charming.   
　　当你到巴黎游玩时，別把时间全都花在看博物馆和纪念碑上面。它们当然很值得你花时间，但今天先忘掉它们。首先来四处看看，并体验一下巴黎的生活。你会发现它的迷人之处。   
　　take a stroll along the seine river. browse through the art vendors, colorful paintings. peek through delicate iron gates at the well-kept gardens. watch closely for the french attention to detail that has made france synonymous with good taste. you will see it in the design of a doorway or arch and in the little fountains and quaint balconies. no matter where you look, you will find everyday objects transformed into works by art.   
　　沿著塞纳河漫步。浏览艺术家们丰富色彩的绘画，透过那些精致的铁门，向內偷窺那些精心照看的花园。仔细留心法国人对于细节的留心。这使得法国成为“好品味”同义字。你可以在门廊或拱门以及小喷泉和古怪有趣的走廊的设计上看见。不管你往哪里看，你都可以发现日常物品已经变成了艺术品。   
　　spend some time in a quiet park relaxing on an old bench. lie on your back on the green grass. when you need refreshment, try coffee and pastries at a sidewalk cafe. strike up a conversation with a parisian. this isn't always easy, though. with such a large international population living in paris, true natives are hard to find these days.   
　　花些时间，在一个安静的公园里面的旧板凳上轻松地休息。躺在青草地上。想吃点心的时候，尝尝路边咖啡店的咖啡及点心。找一个巴黎人展开一段会话，但这也不太容易。有这么大的国际人口居住在此地。在这个年头要找到一个真正当地的巴黎人是很难的。   
　　as evening comes to paris, enchantment rises with the mist over the riverfront. you may hear music from an outdoor concert nearby: classical, jazz, opera or chansons, those french folk songs. parisians love their music. the starry sky is their auditorium. you can also hear concerts in the chateaux and cathedrals. in paris the music never ends.   
　　巴黎到了傍晚时分，随着码头上的雾气升起，巴黎的诱惑力也随之而起。你也会听到附近室外音乐会所演奏的乐曲。古典、爵士、歌剧或是香颂、即法国的民歌。巴黎人热爱自己的音乐，繁星点缀的天空，就是他们演奏的大礼堂。你也可以在皇宫或教堂里聆听音乐会。在巴黎，音乐是不会停止的。   
　　don't miss the highlight of paris evening: eating out. parisians are proud of their cuisine. and rightly so; it's world famous. gourmet dining is one of the indispensable joys of living. you need a special guidebook to help you choose one of the hundreds of excellent restaurants. the capital of france boasts every regional specialty, cheese and wine the country has to offer. if you don't know what to order, ask for the suggested menu. the chef likes to showcase his best dishes there. remember, you haven't tasted the true flavor of france until you've dined at a french restaurant in paris.

说声感谢不仅能让他人的世界更明媚，也会点亮你的生活。如果你觉得失落、不被关爱、不被欣赏，那就试着敞开你的心灵，也许这正是你最需要的。

In our life, we have rarely expressed our gratitude to the one who’d lived those years with us. In fact, we don’t have to wait for anniversaries to thank the ones closet to us—the ones so easily overlooked. If I have learned anything about giving thanks, it is this: give it now! while your feeling of appreciation is alive and sincere, act on it. Saying thanks is such an easy way to add to the world’s happiness.

Saying thanks not only brightens someone else’s world, it brightens yours. If you’re feeling left out, unloved or unappreciated, try reaching out to others. It may be just the medicine you need.

Of course, there are times when you can’t express gratitude immediately. In that case don’t let embarrassment sink you into silence-speak up the first time you have the chance.

Once a young minister, Mark Brian, was sent to a remote parish of Kwakiutl Indians in British Columbia. The Indians, he had been told, did not have a word for thank you. But Brian soon found that these people had exceptional generosity. Instead of saying thanks, it is their custom to return every favor with a favor of their own, and every kindness with an equal or superior kindness. They do their thanks.

I wonder if we had no words in our vocabulary for thank you, would we do a better job of communicating our gratitude? Would we be more responsive, more sensitive, more caring?

Thankfulness sets in motion a chain reaction that transforms people all around us—including ourselves. For no one ever misunderstands the melody of a grateful heart. Its message is universal; its lyrics transcend all earthly barriers; its music touches the heavens.

A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell. He painted a sign advertising the pups and set about nailing it to a post on the edge of his yard. As he was driving the last nail into the post, he felt a tug on his overalls. He looked down into the eyes of a little boy.

"Mister," he said, "I want to buy one of your puppies."

"Well," said the farmer, as he rubbed the sweat off the back of his neck, "these puppies come from fine parents and cost a good deal of money."

The boy dropped his head for a moment. Then reaching deep into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of change and held it up to the farmer. "I've got thirty-nine cents. Is that enough to take a look?"

"Sure," said the farmer.

And with that he let out a whistle, "Here, Dolly!" he called.

Out from the doghouse and down the ramp ran Dolly followed by four little balls of fur. The little boy pressed his face against the chain link fence. His eyes danced with delight.

As the dogs made their way to the fence, the little boy noticed something else stirring inside the doghouse. Slowly another little ball appeared; this One noticeably smaller. Down the ramp it slid. Then in a somewhat awkward manner the little pup began hobbling toward the others, doing its best to catch up.

"I want that one," the little boy said, pointing to the runt.

The farmer knelt down at the boy's side and said, "Son, you don't want that puppy. He will never be able to run and play with you like these other dogs would."

With that the little boy stepped back from the fence, reached down, and began rolling up one leg of his trousers. In doing so he revealed a steel brace running down both sides of his leg attaching itself to a specially made shoe. Looking back up at the farmer, he said, "You see sir, I don't run too well myself, and he will need someone who understands."

The world is full of people who need someone who understands.

I have a friend who is falling in love. She honestly claims the sky is bluer. Mozart moves her to tears. She has lost 15 pounds and looks like a cover girl(封面女郎).



"I'm young again!" she shouts exuberantly.



As my friend raves(咆哮) on about her new love, I've taken a good look at my old one. My husband of almost 20 years, Scott, has gained 15 pounds. Once a marathon runner, he now runs only down hospital halls. His hairline is receding(后退) and his body shows the signs of long working hours and too many candy bars. Yet he can still give me a certain look across a restaurant table and I want to ask for the check and head home.



When my friend asked me "What will make this love last?" I ran through all the obvious reasons: commitment, shared interests, unselfishness, physical attraction, communication. Yet there's more. We still have fun. Spontaneous(自发的,自然产生的) good times. Yesterday, after slipping the rubber band off the rolled up newspaper, Scott flipped it playfully at me: this led to an all-out war. Last Saturday at the grocery, we split the list and raced each other to see who could make it to the checkout(校验) first. Even washing dishes can be a blast. We enjoy simply being together.



And there are surprises. One time I came home to find a note on the front door that led me to another note, then another, until I reached the walk-in(可供人走进之物) closet. I opened the door to find Scott holding a "pot of gold" (my cooking kettle) and the "treasure" of a gift package. Sometimes I leave him notes on the mirror and little presents under his pillow.



There is understanding. I understand why he must play basketball with the guys. And he understands why, once a year, I must get away from the house, the kids—and even him-to meet my sisters for a few days of nonstop talking and laughing.


There is sharing. Not only do we share household worries and parental burdens—we also share ideas. Scott came home from a convention last month and presented me with a thick historical novel. Though he prefers thrillers(惊险读物) and science fiction, he had read the novel on the plane. He touched my heart when he explained it was because he wanted to be able to exchange ideas about the book after I'd read it.



There is forgiveness. When I'm embarrassingly(使人尴尬地) loud and crazy at parties, Scott forgives me. When he confessed losing some of our savings in the stock(股票) market, I gave him a hug and said, "It's okay. It's only money."



There is sensitivity. Last week he walked through the door with that look that tells me it's been a tough day. After he spent some time with the kids, I asked him what happened. He told me about a 60-year-old woman who'd had a stroke. He wept as he recalled the woman's husband standing beside her bed, caressing(爱抚) her hand. How was he going to tell this husband of 40 years that his wife would probably never recover? I shed a few tears myself. Because of the medical crisis. Because there were still people who have been married 40 years. Because my husband is still moved and concerned after years of hospital rooms and dying patients.



Finally, there is knowing. I know Scott will throw his laundry(要洗的衣服) just shy of the hamper every night; he'll be late to most appointments and eat the last chocolate in the box. He knows that I sleep with a pillow over my head; I'll lock us out of the house at a regular basis, and I will also eat the last chocolate.



I guess our love lasts because it is comfortable. No, the sky is not bluer: it's just a familiar hue(色调). We don't feel particularly young: we've experienced too much that has contributed to our growth and wisdom, taking its toll on our bodies, and created our memories.

I hope we've got what it takes to make our love last. As a bride, I had Scott's wedding band engraved(雕刻) with Robert Browning's line "Grow old along with me!" We're following those instructions.



If anything is real, the heart will make it plain.

她翻开另一页，补充道“他热情、幽默、善良、稳重”。对于这个与她共同生活并相爱了大半辈子的人，她这样写道：“他总会在我需要的时候陪伴我。”

My friend John McHugh is always telling me things, things that younger men need wiser, older men to tell them. Things like whom to trust, how to love, how to live a good life.

Not long ago John lost his wife, Janet, to cancer. God knows she was a fighter, but in the end the disease won their eight-year battle.

One day John pulled a folded paper from his wallet. He’d found it, he told me, while going through drawers in his house. It was a love note, in Janet’s handwriting. It looked a little like a schoolgirl’s daydream note about the boy across the way. All that was missing was a hand-drawn heart and the names John and Janet. Except this note was written by the mother of seven children, a woman who had begun the battle for her life, and very probably was within months of the end.

It was also a wonderful prescription for holding a marriage together. This is how Janet McHugh’s note about her husband begins:” Loved. Cared. Worried. ”

As quick with a joke an John is, apparently he didn’t joke with his wife about cancer. He’d come home, and she’d be in one of the moods cancer patients get lost in, and he’d have her in the car faster than you can say DiNardo’s, her favorite restaurant. “Get in the car,” he’d say,” I’m taking you out to dinner.”

He worried, and she knew it. You don’t hide things from someone who knows better.

“Helped me when I was sick.” is next. Maybe Janet wrote her list when the cancer was in one of those horrible and wonderful remission periods, when all is as it was—almost—before the disease, so what harm is there in hoping that it’s behind you, maybe for good?

“Forgave me for a lot of things.”

“Stood by me.”

And then, good service to those of us who think giving constructive criticism is our religious calling: “Always complimentary.”

“Provide everything I ever needed.” Janet McHugh next wrote.

Then she’d turned the man she had lived with and been in love with for the majority of her life. She’d written:” Always there when I needed you.”

The last thing she wrote sums up all the others. I can picture her adding it thoughtfully to her list. ”Good friend.”

I stand beside John now, unable even to pretend that I know what it feels like to lose someone so close. I need to hear what he has to say, much more than he needs to talk.

“John,” I ask,” how do you stick by someone through 38 years of marriage. “let done the sickness too? How do I know I’d have what it takes to stand by my wife if she got sick?”

“you will,” he says. ”If you love her enough, you will.”

记住，从现在开始，多想想你拥有的，而不是你想要的。如果这样做，你的生活会比以前更美好，那种感受或许将是你生命中的第一次，你将会懂得心满意足的含义。
One of the more pervasive and destructive mental tendencies I've seen is that of focusing on what we want instead of what we have. It doesn't seem to make my difference how much we have, we just keep expanding our list of desires, which guarantees we will remain dissatisfied. The mind-set that says "I'll be happy" when this desire is fulfilled is the same mind-set that will repeat itself once that desire is met.

We want this or that. If we don't get what we want, we keep thinking about all that we don't have and we remain dissatisfied. If we do get what we want, we simply recreate the same thinking in our new circumstances. So, despite getting what we want, we still remain unhappy. Happiness can't be found when we are yearning for new desires.

Luckily, there is a way to be happy. It involves changing the emphasis of our thinking from what we want to what we have. Rather than wishing you were able to take a vacation to Hawaii, think of how much fun you have had close to home. The list of possibilities is endless! Each time you notice yourself falling into the "I wish life were different" trap, back off and start over. Take a breath and remember all that you have to be grateful. When you focus not on what you want, but on what you have, you end up getting more of what you want anyway. If you focus on the good qualities of your spouse, she'll be more loving. If you are grateful for your job rather than complaining about it, you'll do a better job, be more productive, and probably end up getting a raise any-way. If you focus on ways to enjoy yourself around home rather than waiting to enjoy yourself in Hawaii, you'll end up having more fun. If you ever do get to Hawaii, you'll be in the habit of enjoying yourself. And, if by some chance you don't, you have a great life anyway.

Make a note of yourself to start thinking more about what you have than what you want. If you do, your life will start appearing much better than before. For perhaps the first time in your life, you'll know what it means to feel satisfied.

Daniel Patrick Keane was born on 4 February, 1996.

My dear son, it is six o'clock in the morning on the island of Hong Kong. You are asleep cradled in my left arm and I am learning the art of one-handed typing. Your mother, more tired yet more happy than I've ever known her, is sound asleep in the room next door and there is soft quiet in our apartment.

Since you arrived, days have melted into night and back again and we are learning a new grammar, a long sentence whose punctuation marks are feeding and winding and nappy changing and these occasional moments of quiet.

When you're older we'll tell you that you were born in Britain's last Asian colony in the lunar year of the pig and that when we brought you home, the staff of our apartment block gathered to wish you well. "It's a boy, so lucky, so lucky. We Chinese love boys," they told us. One man said you were the first baby to be born in the block in the year of the pig. This, he told us, was good Feng Shui, in other words a positive sign for the building and everyone who lived there.

Naturally your mother and I were only too happy to believe that. We had wanted you and waited for you, imagined you and dreamed about you and now that you are here no dream can do justice to you. Outside the window, below us on the harbor, the ferries are ploughing back and forth to Kowloon. Millions are already up and moving about and the sun is slanting through the tower blocks and out on to the flat silver waters of the South China Sea. I can see the contrail of a jet over Lamma Island and somewhere out there, the last stars flickering towards the other side of the world.

We have called you Daniel Patrick but I've been told by my Chinese friends that you should have a Chinese name as well and this glorious dawn sky makes me think we'll call you Son of the Eastern Star. So that later, when you and I are far from Asia, perhaps standing on a beach some evening, I can point at the sky and tell you of the Orient and the times and the people we knew there in the last years of the twentieth century.

Your coming has turned me upside down and inside out. So much that seemed essential to me has, in the past few days, taken on a different color. Like many foreign correspondents I know, I have lived a life that, on occasion, has veered close to the edge: war zones, natural disasters, darkness in all its shapes and forms.

In a world of insecurity and ambition and ego, it's easy to be drawn in, to take chances with our lives, to believe that what we do and what people say about us is reason enough to gamble with death. Now, looking at your sleeping face, inches away from me, listening to your occasional sigh and gurgle, I wonder how I could have ever thought glory and prizes and praise were sweeter than life.

And it's also true that I am pained, perhaps haunted is a better word, by the memory, suddenly so vivid now, of each suffering child I have come across on my journeys. To tell you the truth, it's nearly too much to bear at this moment to even think of children being hurt and abused and killed. And yet looking at you, the images come flooding back. Ten-year-old Andi Mikail dying from 11)napalm burns on a hillside in Eritrea, how his voice cried out, growing ever more faint when the wind blew dust on to his wounds. The two brothers, Domingo and Juste, in Menongue, southern Angola. Juste, two years old and blind, dying from malnutrition, being carried on seven-year-old Domingo's back, and there is Domingo's words to me, "He was nice before, but now he has the hunger."

Last October, in Afghanistan, when you were growing inside your mother, I met Sharja, aged twelve. Motherless, fatherless, guiding me through the grey ruins of her home, everything was gone, she told me. And I knew that, for all her tender years, she had learned more about loss than I would likely understand in a lifetime.

There is one last memory. Of Rwanda, and the churchyard of the parish of Nyarabuye where, in a ransacked classroom, I found a mother and her three young children huddled together where they'd been beaten to death. The children had died holding on to their mother, that instinct we all learn form birth and in one way or another cling to until we die.

Daniel, these memories explain some of the fierce protectiveness I feel for you, the tenderness and the occasional moments of blind terror when I imagine anything happening to you. But there is something more, a story from long ago that I will tell you face to face, father to son, when you are older. It's a very personal story but it's part of the picture. It has to do with the long lines of blood and family, about our lives and how we can get lost in them and, if we're lucky, find our way again into the sunlight.

It begins thirty-five years ago in a big city on a January morning with snow on the ground and a woman walking to hospital to have her first baby. She is in her early twenties and the city is still strange to her, bigger and noisier than the easy streets and gentle hills of her distant home. She's walking because there is no money and everything of value has been pawned to pay for the alcohol to which her husband has become addicted.

On the way, a taxi driver notices her sitting, exhausted and cold, in the doorway of a shop and he takes her to hospital for free. Later that day, she gives birth to a baby boy and, just as you are to me, he is the best thing she has ever seen. Her husband comes that night and weeps with joy when he sees his son. He is truly happy. Hungover, broke, but in his own way happy, for they were both young and in love with each other and their son.

But, Danie, time had some bad surprises in store for them. The cancer of alcoholism ate away at the man and he lost his family. This was not something he meant to do or wanted to do, it just was. When you are older, my son, you will learn about how complicated life becomes, how we can lose our way and how people get hurt inside and out. By the time his son had grown up, the man lived away from the family, on his own in a one-roomed flat, living and dying for the bottle.

He died on the fifth of January, one day before the anniversary of his son's birth. But his son was too far away to hear his last words, his final breath, and all the things they might have wished to say to one another were left unspoken.

Yet now, Daniel, I must tell you that when you let out your first powerful cry in the delivery room of the Adventist Hospital and I became a father, I thought of your grandfather and, foolish though it may seem, hoped that in some way he could hear, across the infinity between the living and the dead, your proud statement of arrival. For if he could hear, he would recognize the distinct voice of family, the sound of hope and new beginnings that your and all your innocence and freshness have brought to the world.

When I was growing up, I had an old neighbor named Dr. Gibbs. He didn’t look like any doctor I’d ever known. He never yelled at us for playing in his yard. I remember him as someone who was a lot nicer than 1)circumstances warranted.  

When Dr. Gibbs wasn’t saving lives, he was planting trees. His house sat on ten acres, and his life’s goal was to make it a forest.  

The good doctor had some interesting theories concerning plant 2)husbandry. He came from the “No pain, no gain” school of 3)horticulture. He never watered his new trees, which flew in the face of conventional wisdom. Once I asked why. He said that watering plants spoiled them, and that if you water them, each successive tree generation will grow weaker and weaker. So you have to make things rough for them and 4)weed out the 5)weenie trees early on.  

He talked about how watering trees made for shallow roots, and how trees that weren’t watered had to grow deep roots in search of 6)moisture. I took him to mean that deep roots were to be treasured.  
So he never watered his trees. He’d plant an oak and, instead of watering it every morning, he’d beat it with a rolled-up newspaper. Smack! Slap! Pow! I asked him why he did that, and he said it was to get the tree’s attention.  

Dr. Gibbs 7)went to glory a couple of years after I left home. 8)Every now and again, I walked by his house and looked at the trees that I’d watched him plant some twenty-five years ago. They’re 9)granite strong now. Big and 10)robust. Those trees wake up in the morning and beat their chests and drink their 11)coffee black.  

I planted a couple of trees a few years back. Carried water to them for a 12)solid summer. Sprayed them. Prayed over them. The whole nine 13)yards. Two years of 14)coddling has resulted in trees that expect to be 15)waited on hand and foot. Whenever a cold wind blows in, they tremble and chatter their branches. Sissy trees.  

Funny things about those trees of Dr. Gibbs’. 16)Adversity and 17)deprivation seemed to benefit them in ways comfort and ease never could.  
Every night before I go to bed, I check on my two sons. I stand over them and watch their little bodies, the rising and falling of life within. I often pray for them. Mostly I pray that their lives will be easy. But lately I’ve been thinking that it’s time to change my prayer.  

This change has to do with the inevitability of cold winds that hit us at the core. I know my children are going to encounter hardship, and I’m praying they won’t be naive. There’s always a cold wind blowing somewhere.  

So I’m changing my prayer. Because life is tough, whether we want it to be or not. Too many times we pray for ease, but that’s a prayer seldom met. What we need to do is pray for roots that reach deep into 18)the Eternal, so when the rains fall and the winds blow, we won’t be 19)swept 20)asunder.