Imagine life as a game in which you are juggling some five balls in the air. You name them: Work, Family, Health, Friends, Spirit. And you're keeping all these in the air. You will soon understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. But the other four balls-family, health, friends and spirit are made of glass. If you drop one of these, it will be irrevocably scuffed, marked, nicked, damaged or even shattered. They will never be the same. You must understand that and strive for balance in your life.

How?

Don't undermine your worth by comparing yourself to others. It is because we are different that each of us is special.

Don't set your goals by what other people deem important. Only you know what is best for you.

Don't take for granted the things closest to your heart. Cling to them as you would to your life, for without them, life is meaningless.  

Don't let your life slip through your fingers by living in the past or for the future. By living your life one day at a time, you live all the days of your life.

Don't give up when you still have something to give. Nothing is really over until the moment you stop trying.

Don't be afraid to admit that you are less than perfect. It is this fragile thread that binds us each together.

Don't be afraid to encounter risks. It is by taking chances that we learn how to be brave.

Don't shut love out of your life by saying it's impossible to find. The quickest way to receive love is to give; the fastest way to lose love is hold it too tightly; and the best way to keep love is to give it wings.

Don't run though life so fast that you forget not only where you've been, but also where you are going.

Don't forget, a person's greatest emotional need is to feel appreciated.

Don't be afraid to learn. Knowledge is weightless, a treasure you can always carry easily.

Don't use time or words carelessly. Neither can be retrieved.

Life is not a race, but a journey to be savored each step of the way.
Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is mystery and Today is a gift: that's why we call it "The Present".

More Than One Way to the Square

We were standing at the top of a church tower. My father had brought me to this spot in a small Italian town not far from our home in Rome. I wondered why.

“Look down, Elsa,” Father said. I gathered all my courage and looked down. I saw the square in the center of the village. And I saw the crisscross of twisting, turning streets leading to the square.

“See, my dear,” Father said gently. “There is more than one way to the square. Life is like that. If you can't get to the place where you want to go by one road, try another.”

Now I understood why I was there. Earlier that day I had begged my mother to do something about the awful lunches that were served at school. But she refused because she could not believe the lunches were as bad as I said.

When I turned to Father for help, he would not interfere. Instead, he brought me to this high tower to give me a lesson. By the time we reached home, I had a plan.

At school the next day, I secretly poured my luncheon soup into a bottle and brought it home. Then I talked the cook into serving it to Mother at dinner. The plan worked perfectly. She swallowed one spoonful and sputtered, “The cook must have gone mad!” Quickly I told what I had done, and Mother stated firmly that she would take up the matter of lunches at school the next day!

In the years that followed I often remembered the lesson Father taught me. I knew where I wanted to go in life. I wanted to be a fashion designer. And on the way to my first small success I found the road blocked. What could I do? Accept the roadblock5 and fail？Or use imagination and wits to find another road to my goal？

I had come to Paris, the center of the world of fashion, with my sketches6. But none of the famous fashion designers seemed interested in buying them. Then one day I met a friend who was wearing a very beautiful sweater. It was plain in color, but it had a lovely and unusual stitch.

“Did you knit that sweater?” I asked her.

“No,” she answered. “It was done by a woman here in Paris.”

“What an interesting stitch!” I continued.

My friend had an explanation. “The woman her name is Mrs. Vidian—told me she learned the stitch in Armenia, her native country.”

Suddenly I pictured a daring design knitted into such a sweater. Then an even more daring idea came to me. Why not open my own house of fashion? Why not design, make and sell clothes from the house of Schiaparelli! I would do it, and I would begin with a sweater.

I drew a bold black and white butterfly pattern and took it to Mrs. Vidian. She knitted it into a sweater. The result, I thought, was wonderful. Then came the test. I wore the sweater to a luncheon which people in the fashion business would attend. To my great pleasure, the sweater was noticed. In fact, the representative of a large New York store wanted 40 sweaters to be ready in two weeks. I accepted the order and walked out on a cloud of happiness.

My cloud disappeared suddenly, however, when I stood in front of Mrs. Vidian. “But it took me almost a week to knit that one sweater,” she said. “Forty sweaters in two weeks? It is not possible!”

I was crushed to be so close to success and then to be blocked! Sadly I walked away. All at once I stopped short. There must be another way. This stitch did take special skill. But surely there must be other Armenian women in Paris who knew how to do it.

I went back to Mrs. Vidian and explained my plan. She really didn't think it would work, but she agreed to help.

We were like detectives, Mrs. Vidian and I. We put ourselves on the trail11 of any Armenians who lived in Paris. One friend led us to another. At last we tracked down women, each of whom could knit the special stitch. Two weeks later the sweaters were finished. And the first shipment from the new house of Schiaparelli was on its way to the United States!

From that day a steady stream of clothes and perfumes12 flowed from the house of Schiaparelli. I found the world of fashion gay13 and exciting, full of challenge and adventure. I shall never forget one showing which was really a challenge. Once again Father's advice helped me. I was busy getting ready to show my winter fashions. Then just 13 days before the presentation the sewing girls were called out on strike. I found myself left with one tailor and woman who was in charge of the sewing room! I was as gloomy14 as my models and salesgirls. “We'll never make it,”one of them cried.

Here, I thought, is the test of all tests for Father's advice. Where is the way out this time? I wondered and worried. I was certain we would have to call off the presentation or else show the clothes unfinished. Then it dawned on15 me. Why not show the clothes unfinished?

We worked hurriedly. And, exactly 13 days later, right on time, the Schiaparelli showing took place.

What a showing it was! Some coats had no sleeves; others had only one. Many of our clothes were still in an early stage. They were only patterns made of heavy cotton cloth. But on these we pinned sketches and pieces of material. In this way we were able to show that what colors and textures the clothes would have when they were finished.

All in all, the showing was different. It was so different that it was a great success. Our unusual showing caught the attention of the public, and orders for the clothes poured in.

Father's wise words had guided me once again. There is more than one way to the square always.

When someone disagrees with you or offends you, don’t lose your temper. Why? Because it is of no use to do so. You ought to (should) be patient and keep calm lest you should quarrel with him. You must know that patience is not cowardice, but a virtue. I hope that everybody practices it.

In addition, patience will also bring us success. When you meet with difficulties in your work, it is no use losing heart. You must keep on fighting until (till) the final victory belongs to you.

　　当有人和你意见不同或开罪你的时候，你切不可发脾气。为什么？因为这样做是无用的（用of no use）。你应当忍耐并且保持冷静，唯恐和他争吵。你必须知道忍耐不是弱而是一种美德。我希望人人都实行它。

　　另外，忍耐也会带给我们成功。当你在工作中遭遇到困难的时候，灰心是无用的。你必须继续作战直到最后胜利属于你为止。

View in the heart

There is a temple at the foot of Nanshan，and an ancient banyan is in front of it.

One morning,a young monk gets up to clean up the courtyard and sees the fallen leaves from the ancient banyan are everywhere,he can't help worrying and look at the tree to sigh.

For his sorrow is on the toppest,he throws down the broom and rushes to his master's room ,then he knocks on the door to plea for interview.

His master hears it and opens the door,when he sees the disciple's worried look,he thinks something takes place,so he hurries to ask him:" My disciple, what does you worry about so much in the early morning? "

The young disciple is full of doubt and tells him:"Master, you persuades us to be diligent to cultivate our moral character and grasp the truth day and night,but, even I learn them well ,it is hard to avoid to die.Till that time,so-called me, so-called Dao, aren't they just like the defoliation in autumn or the deadwood in winter? and they will be buried by a heap of loess?"

After hearing it ,the old monk points at the ancient banyan and says to the young monk:" My disciple ,you don't need to worry about this.In fact, the defoliation in autumn and the deadwood in winter will climb back to the trees silently and become the flowers in spring and grow up into the leaves in summer at the time of autumnal winds is blowing strongliest and the snow falls down most heavily."

"Why don't I see it?"

"It is the reason that there isn't any view in your heart, so you can't see the bloom ."

Facing the withering defoliations and imaging they will be in bud,it needs to have an immortal of spring heart, an optimism of heart.

There are always some miseries you will meet in your whole life and strike you when you are unprepared, but we don't need to worry day after day for the arrival of this day, and feel sorry to yourself.

Treating the life with the attitude of the optimism, it can not only dissolve the agony and misfortune , but also bring a kind of pleased mood to you everyday and make your life bright and flourishing .

As long as the view is in the heart,aren't the paths full of fragrance of flowers everywhere?

In the doorway of my home, I looked closely at the face of my 23-year-old son, Daniel, his backpack by his side. We were saying good-bye. In a few hours he would be flying to France. He would be staying there for at least a year to learn another language and experience life in a different country.

It was a transitional time in Daniel‘s life, a passage, a step from college into the adult world. I wanted to leave him some words that would have some meaning, some significance beyond the moment.

But nothing came from my lips. No sound broke the stillness of my beachside home. Outside, I could hear the shrill cries of sea gulls as they circled the ever changing surf on Long Island. Inside, I stood frozen and quiet, looking into the searching eyes of my son.

What made it more difficult was that I knew this was not the first time I had let such a moment pass. When Daniel was five, I took him to the school-bus stop on his first day of kindergarten. I felt the tension in his hand holding mine as the bus turned the corner. I saw colour flush his cheeks as the bus pulled up. He looked at me-as he did now.

What is it going to be like, Dad? Can I do it? Will I be okay? And then he walked up the steps of the bus and disappeared inside. And the bus drove away. And I had said nothing.

A decade or so later, a similar scene played itself out. With his mother, I drove him to William and Mary College in Virginia. His first night, he went out with his new schoolmates, and when he met us the next morning, he was sick. He was coming down with mononucleosis, but we could not know that then. We thought he had a hangover.

In his room, Dan lay stretched out on his bed as I started to leave for the trip home. I tried to think of something to say to give him courage and confidence as he started this new phase of life.

Again, words failed me. I mumbled something like, "Hope you feel better Dan." And I left.  

Now, as I stood before him, I thought of those lost opportunities. How many times have we all let such moments pass? A boy graduates from school, a daughter gets married. We go through the motions of the ceremony, but we don‘t seek out our children and find a quiet moment to tell them what they have meant to us. Or what they might expect to face in the years ahead.

How fast the years had passed. Daniel was born in New Orleans, LA., in 1962, slow to walk and talk, and small of stature. He was the tiniest in his class, but he developed a warm, outgoing nature and was popular with his peers. He was coordinated and 6)agile, and he became adept in sports.

Baseball gave him his earliest challenge. He was an outstanding pitcher in Little League, and eventually, as a senior in high school, made the varsity, winning half the team‘s games with a record of five wins and two losses. At graduation, the coach named Daniel the team‘s most valuable player.

His finest hour, though, came at a school science fair. He entered an exhibit showing how the circulatory system works. It was primitive and crude, especially compared to the fancy, computerized, blinking-light models entered by other students. My wife, Sara, felt embarrassed for him.

It turned out that the other kids had not done their own work-their parents had made their exhibits. As the judges went on their rounds, they found that these other kids couldn‘t answer their questions. Daniel answered every one. When the judges awarded the Albert Einstein Plaque for the best exhibit, they gave it to him.

By the time Daniel left for college he stood six feet tall and weighed 170 pounds. He was muscular and in superb condition, but he never pitched another inning, having given up baseball for English literature. I was sorry that he would not develop his athletic talent, but proud that he had made such a mature decision.

One day I told Daniel that the great failing in my life had been that I didn‘t take a year or two off to travel when I finished college. This is the best way, to my way of thinking, to broaden oneself and develop a larger perspective on life. Once I had married and begun working, I found that the dream of living in another culture had vanished.

Daniel thought about this. His friends said that he would be insane to put his career on hold. But he decided it wasn‘t so crazy. After graduation, he worked as a waiter at college, a bike messenger and a house painter. With the money he earned, he had enough to go to Paris.

The night before he was to leave, I tossed in bed. I was trying to figure out something to say. Nothing came to mind. Maybe, I thought, it wasn‘t necessary to say anything.

What does it matter in the course of a life-time if a father never tells a son what he really thinks of him? But as I stood before Daniel, I knew that it does matter. My father and I loved each other. Yet, I always regretted never hearing him put his feelings into words and never having the memory of that moment. Now, I could feel my palms sweat and my throat tighten. Why is it so hard to tell a son something from the heart? My mouth turned dry, and I knew I would be able to get out only a few words clearly.

“Daniel," I said, "if I could have picked, I would have picked you."

That‘s all I could say. I wasn‘t sure he understood what I meant. Then he came toward me and threw his arms around me. For a moment, the world and all its people vanished, and there was just Daniel and me in our home by the sea.

He was saying something, but my eyes misted over, and I couldn‘t understand what he was saying. All I was aware of was the stubble on his chin as his face pressed against mine. And then, the moment ended. I went to work, and Daniel left a few hours later with his girlfriend.

That was seven weeks ago, and I think about him when I walk along the beach on weekends. Thousands of miles away, somewhere out past the ocean waves breaking on the deserted shore, he might be scurrying across Boulevard Saint Germain, strolling through a musty hallway of the Louvre, bending an elbow in a Left Bank café.

What I had said to Daniel was clumsy and trite. It was nothing. And yet, it was everything.

Life's Balance

Imagine life as a game in which you are juggling five balls in the air. You name them: work, family, health, friends, and spirit, and you're keeping all of them in the air. You will soon understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. But the other four balls--family, health, friends, and spirit are made of glass. If you drop one of these, they will be irrevocably scuffed, marked, nicked, damaged, or even shattered. They will never be the same. You must understand that and strive for balance in your life.

How? Don't undermine your worth by comparing yourself with others. It is because we are different that each of us is special. Don't set your goals by what other people deem important. Only you know what is best for you. Don't take for granted the things closest to your heart. Cling to them as you would your life, for without them, life is meaningless. Don't le t life slip through your fingers by living in the past or for the future. By living your life one day at a time you live ALL the days of your life. Don't give up when you still have something to give. Nothing is really over until the moment you stop trying. Don't be afraid to admit that you are less than perfect. It is this fragile thread that binds us together. Don't be afraid to encounter risks. It is by taking chances that we learn to be brave. Don't shut love out of your life by saying it's impossible to find. The quickest way to receive love is to give; the fastest way to lose love is to hold it too tightly; and the best way to keep love is to give it wings. Don't run thruogh life so fast that you forget not only where you've been, but also where you are going. Don't forget that a person's greatest emotional need is to feel appreciated. Don't use time or words carelessly. Neither can be retrieved. Life is not a race, but a journey to be savored each step of the way.

Flying High

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 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.

Home Truth

It was the smell of rain that I missed the most and the sound of a lawnmower and the waft of cut grass. It was being out in the open and standing bare foot! Blue skies part and parcel of it all; the thunder that would blast over and leave—the coming of a tropical sundown, an evening of barbecues, of warm pools, beer splattering on concrete. The bed awaiting, a vest, a body glistening from perspiration and a sleep of pillows constantly changing sides, a mosquito in the ear. Sleepless nights that were all you knew. And then, one day I left it behind. I moved to a city, to grim faced pallid movements, and there I became with them a ghost on the sidewalks. Dimly, ambling along with my face down, watching my steps and hurrying towards my quotidian activities.

Winters I spent indoor in solace. My flat mates—the friends I had—worked day and night. They were accustomed to leaving the soul behind, the need for money was so official. I would spend nights in the strange house, with creaks of a wall I did not know, and sit by the phone that our landlord had locked, and think of conversations of the past, of my mother's voice ringing, of my best friend whom I would lose contact with, and I would write letters, letters I would never send, letters that clutched the truth—that only I knew. I would cry, tears staining the ink, a smudged idea of love. I was temping then, doing mindless data entry, tapping words into a computer, and moving on wondering what worth there was, and how to find it. My flat mates would come home just before midnight—Mark and Craig, my two best friends. I would smile inwardly and outwardly and make them tea, a sandwich, sit with them and live their lives, hear their stories, flourish in company. Sleep would be eschewed, I yearned for comfort, and company eased the etching of loneliness.

I drank a lot, I had a job and I met people, and I continued my ambling in a city that was not mine. Every Friday my work offered free drinks and I catapulted towards the bar, I sipped 8)ferociously at the wine, the beer, I got horrifically drunk and so the person that I was not, but so yearned to be would come out. She, loud, vivacious, articulate would spend the evening conversing with strangers, laughing and sometimes, flirting! I seemed to step out of myself and watch in amazement. After drinks, I would stumble to the Palladium to meet Mark and Craig—they both worked there as ushers. I would arrive as they were finishing work and we would sit in the bar and I would continue, I would drink.

One night we fell drunk into the house. I lit a cigarette; I sat down and my mind triggered off dull thuds of depression. I went to the bathroom and in a mode of translucent mania I took out a razor blade and in numb motions slowly cut at my wrist, tears streaming down my face, I stopped as soon as I started, my aim was wrong-it was in the name of attention, except I would tell nobody, the attention was all to myself. Quietly, I wrapped my stinging arm with toilet paper, walked to my room and put on a jersey so as to cover the threat, the childish self abuse. I lay and quickly wiped my tears as I heard the friendly footsteps of Mark and Craig. They stood and bantered and eventually I followed them downstairs, and listened to Bob Marley, and Redemption song, my favorite song—"Sold I to the merchant ships…"

And so, I stood on the tube, Dollis Hill to Marylebone and I stared at the scars on my wrist. The scars of stupidity that only I knew of, I was entranced, as though it were not me—it's never me. I swayed to the motion of the train, the city was corrupting me, my soul was slowly bitten, I wanted to yell out my mind, but it all seeped inwards, I was boring myself with my own pleas.

It got better, as it does get better, as you know no better and I sunk into my life, I slowly enjoyed its offerings, I adjusted to the climate, to the people and one day as I walked outside my new flat—not mine of course, but my temporary abode that I rented, as I took out the garbage on a autumn Saturday—in my pyjamas, with the TV and the glow of comfort, I looked at the grey, I sucked it in and I quite enjoyed it—it's romantic quality, it's gloom appealed to me, as it would eventually with my nature. I liked it. I went inside, and shivered—a content chill, I enjoyed the cold and the idea of being able to get warm and I lay on the couch with my toes under a cushion, an inane program keeping me entertained. It all grows on you.

I went home, eventually. I spent five months appreciating the beauty, the climate, the content natures surrounding me. I ate healthy food, I listened to a language I had forgotten about, I roamed on farms that were not mine, went to wine harvests, put on high factors to shield out the sun, spend days lamenting the heat. But, it was not time, I was unable to indulge as the city, London, was still with me, my love and loathing relationship was still continuing, I was still meant to be there, whether unhappy or not. I could not explain it, it's not the city I suppose, it's me-I need to be content. I left, I left what I love so much, no great epiphany, just not at that moment. One day home will come to me, or I will go to home and I await the knowledge in peace.

拥有了一份好的工作、一个好的身体、一笔大大的财富，但你仍然感受不到幸福快乐？这是为什么？答案只有一个字，爱。没有爱的人生好比没有灵魂的躯体。

爱给予了生活的意义。幸运的人得到爱并能让那爱的火花永远燃烧，这不是一天或几个月的事。爱是生活，生活也是爱。

Suppose you have everything; a good job, good health, good reputation, good relationships and lot of money to spend. But still there is something missing from your life. Guess what? The LOVE. It is not something which you should ignore. Life without love is just like body without soul.

Love gives meaning to life as without love life is meaningless. Lucky is the person who gets love and keeps the flames of love burning for ever. It is not a matter of days or months. Love is for life and life is for love.

Short term love encounters are not helpful at all. Be sincere with your body and soul. Indulge in serious life long loving relationship and live a healthy, happy and joyful life.
It is easy to fell in love but difficult to keep the flames of love burning. Before indulging in serious long term love relationships be sure that the person you love is also sincere with you. A selfish person can make your life miserable. If this is the case with you then try to get rid of that person as soon as possible.

Most people do not give importance to their love life as they give importance to their professional life. In most cases, people sacrifice their love life at the cost of their profession. This is a bad choice which ruins the whole life. A sensible balance between the two is necessary in order to enjoy life in its entirety. Do not deprive yourself of the love you need.

People part their ways after living together for years and years. Though this looks strange but is the obvious result of ignoring the genuine complaints and grievances of the other. Sometimes a sincere apology, gentle touch, or a friendly kiss is enough to put your love life on track. However, when deep differences develop between the two then professional consultation is necessary. Do everything to bring back love to your life, if it is lost.

In order to make the journey of life more exciting and enjoyable, you need a loving and caring person with whom you can share your values, dreams, fantasies, joys and jokes. In difficult times of anxiety, sorrow, distress or loss of near and dear ones this person should stand firm besides you and console you in every possible manner.

Love your life and love the person who is in your life. Keep the flames of love burning to live a great, great love life.
Discuss this article with your loved one and carefully listen what he/she says. This can give you a clue of his/her inner sentiments and the depth of love for you. Also avail this opportunity to renew your love life with a new passion and commitment.

Who Are the Happiest People?

谁是世界上最幸福的人

只有傻瓜才不考虑别人的利益。
抛弃自己国家的传统来创造更好的社会是一种错误的方式。
一个民族失去了自己的神话，就失去了自我。

[1]They live on a windswept island surrounded by glaciers 『冰川；冰河』and volcanoes『火山』. What makes them so content『满足的；甘心的』?

[1]他们生活在海风吹拂的小岛上，被冰川和火山所环绕着。是什么使他们如此满足？

[2]In a poll『民意调查』of 18 nations, The Gallup Organization discovered that Icelanders are the happiest people alive. All 267,809 of them. Eighty-two percent are satisfied with their personal lives. The United States ranked『位居；名列』fifth at 72 percent; Japan came in seventh with 42 percent.

[2]美国的盖洛普民意测验组织对世界上18个国家的民意测验表明：冰岛人是世界上最快乐的人。参加测试的人数为26.78万人。82%的冰岛人表示满意自己的生活；美国表示满意自己生活的人数为72％，排列第五位；日本排列第七位，人数比率为42％。

[3]Some people would say that happy Iceland is a statistical fluke『侥幸』. This is a country so small, an ordinary citizen can make an appointment to see the president.

[3]有人会说：快乐的冰岛仅仅是统计上的巧合。这个国家如此之小，普通的公民也能受到总统的接见。

[4]True, Iceland is no utopia. Icelanders are big boozers 『酒徒』, with a fishing tradition of binge『狂欢作乐』drinking. Almost a third of the births are out of wedlock『私生的』. But that’s what makes the Gallup study so interesting. Icelanders have problems like the rest of us, yet they are happy with their lot『命运；运气』. So what gives?

[4]确实，冰岛并非天堂，冰岛有传统的打鱼豪饮的习惯，酒鬼很多，近三分之一的孩子没有父亲。然而，正因为如此，盖洛普的这项研究才显得更加有趣。因为，像我们一样，冰岛人有许多问题，但是，他们却安命乐天。这究竟是为什么呢？

[5]Consider Thorir Hlynur Thorisson, 28. For his vacation, he spent a month working 16-hour days, seven days a week, as a fishing guide. It was “heaven on earth,” he says. Then after a single night off, he was back at his regular job—on a fishing boat, working six hours on, six hours off, around the clock.

[5]让我们来看一看，一个名叫索赫·赫利纳·索雷逊的28岁的冰岛人是怎样看待生活的。索雷逊在一个月的假期中，为自己找了一份捕渔向导的工作，他一周工作7天，每天工作16个小时,他把这种生活称作“人间的天堂”。假期结束后，他只休息了一个晚上，又接着正常工作起来——在一艘轮船上，每天6小时工作、6小时休息地轮流当班。

[6]We would call Hlynur a workaholic『工作狂』, but so are most of his compatriots『同胞』. It pays off. With a per-capita gross domestic product of $19,905 (the U.S. figure is $27,541), Icelanders are among the wealthiest people on earth. Their tax dollars buy them excellent education and medical care. Iceland has the lowest infant mortality rate『婴儿死亡率』in the world, and almost the highest longevity『长寿；长命』.

[6]我们可以把赫利纳称为“工作狂”，但是，冰岛人也大多和他一样。当然，他们劳有所得，冰岛国内人均生产总值为1.99万美元（美国是2.75万美元）。他们上缴的利税换来了良好的教育和医疗保障。冰岛的婴儿死亡率位于世界之末，而寿命位于世界之首。

[7]The dour『抑郁的；闷闷不乐的』Swiss have a well-run state and all their material needs met, too, yet no one could accuse them of a cheerful outlook.

[7]瑞士是一个秩序井然的国家，人民丰衣足食，生活富裕。可是，瑞士人却郁郁寡欢，闷闷不乐。

[8]Sociologist Thorolfur Thorlindsson of the University of Iceland believes the secret lies not in his country’s comforts, but in its age-old 『长期的；古老的』discomforts. They have taught Icelanders to enjoy what they have.

[8]冰岛大学社会学家索罗尔非·索林德森认为：冰岛人安命乐天的秘诀在于这个国家长期处于艰难困苦之中，而不在于它的舒适。这些艰难困苦教会了冰岛人“知足常乐”。

[9]Isolated『与外界隔绝的；孤立的』in the cold North Atlantic, buffeted『冲击；打击』by a hostile『敌对的；有敌意的』sea, condemned『责备；责怪』to 20 hours of darkness each day in winter, the people have for centuries lived on the vagaries『难以预测的情况』of the fish catch. “Our culture is colored『影响』by the harshness『严酷；艰苦』of nature,” says Thorlindsson. “That’s why Icelanders have a tolerant『宽容；容忍』attitude to the problems of life. They don’t expect the same sort of stability『安定；稳定』often expected in other nations.”

[9]冰岛位于寒冷的北大西洋，常年遭受着海水的无情冲击，冬天有20个小时是黑夜，人民世代以艰苦的捕鱼业为生。“我们的文化带着自然严酷的特色，”索林德森说，“这就是为什么冰岛人对生活中的问题宽容的原因。冰岛人并不像其他国家人民一样，希望得到常有的稳定。”

[10]And so it seems. Americans are considerably better off『更为富有/富裕』by material standards than ever before. Yet we seem less happy, less contented with our lot.

[10]与此相比，我们美国人今天的物质生活条件比以往任何时候都好，但是却没有以往的快乐和满足。

[11]Like Icelanders, Americans are individualists『个人主义者』. Where we seem to differ is in our sense of community『群体；团体』. Iceland, known as the land of “fire and ice,” is about living with opposing forces. It is one of the most active volcanic countries on earth, but has 4536 square miles of glacier—heat and cold, co-existing. No surprise them that its society can reconcile『使调和；使并存』another set of opposing forces: individualism and the needs of the community.

[11]美国人和冰岛人都是个人主义者，所不同的是各自的群体意识。冰岛以“火和冰”而闻名遐迩，人民生活在逆境之中。冰岛是世界上活火山最多的国家之一，还有4536平方英里的冰川，堪称冷热并存。无怪乎这个国家能很好地协调个人主义和群体需要这两种对立的观念，使之共存共容。

[12]Anyone who thinks Americans invented rugged『粗鲁的；粗俗的』individualism has only to visit Iceland. This nation has an ancient『古代的；远古的』 respect for independence. Way back in the tenth century, Iceland was a commonwealth『共和国；联邦』; today Icelanders still place high value on their freedom.

[12]那些认为是美国人发明了个人主义的人应该到冰岛去看看，这个国家在远古就崇尚独立，早在10世纪就建立了联邦共和国。今天的冰岛人仍然看重自由的价值。

[13]But here’s the paradox『矛盾；似是而非』: this individualism exists with a sense of community. For years I have known an Icelandic family that embraces『包括；接受』a family drunk and an illegitimate『私生的；非法的』child. This family never let them drift, like human flotsam『流浪者；流离失所者』, to be beached『庇护；安顿』at some government institution. “Icelanders have strong systems of support,” says Thorlindsson.

[13]然而，这里的个人主义置于群体意识之中。在冰岛，家庭中的酒鬼和私生子不会被抛弃，这是因为冰岛有强有力的社会救济制度。

[14]Tolerance is not hollow 『表面的；虚伪的』 phrase in Iceland. The word for “stupid”is heimskur, which roughly means “comes from home” — or as we would say, provincial『乡下气的；偏狭的』or narrow-minded. Icelanders believe only a dolt『笨蛋；傻瓜』is unable to see the other fellow’s position. In this sense, they might find some of what passes for political debate『讨论；辩论』in the United States absolutely heimskur.

[14]在冰岛，忍耐并不是一句空话。冰岛话中“愚蠢”的同义词是“乡巴佬””或“心胸狭隘”。冰岛人认为只有傻瓜才不考虑别人的利益。以此观点，冰岛人可能会发现美国某些提交政府讨论的东西是非常愚蠢的。

[15]Most Icelanders travel out into the world as young adults. They learn that theirs is not the only way of doing things. Yet this doesn’t translate into contempt『蔑视；轻视』for their own land and its history.

[15]大多数冰岛人年轻时都要到国外去旅行。于是，他们知道自己的生活方式并非是唯一的，但是，并不会因此看不起自己的国家和历史。

[16]The 12th-century Icelandic sagas『英雄传说』, studied at universities the world over, are revered『尊重；崇拜』at home. Turn on the radio and at the top of the charts『节目播出单；节目安排表』is Bubbi Morthens, a troubadour『吟游诗人』.

[16]在世界上各大学中讲授的冰岛12世纪的传说在国内颇受重视。广播中到处都是吟游诗人巴比·莫森斯的节目。

[17]Last summer in the lava 『火山熔岩』fields of Iceland’s interior 『内地；内陆』, accountant Sigmar Bjornsson pointed out to me a cave where thieves had hidden. He showed me where they stored their weapons, where the villagers attacked, told me how one of the thieves, who had only one leg, walked on his hands to the glacier on the horizon『地平线；水平线』.

[17]去年夏天，在岛内溶岩区，一个叫乔恩森的会计师指给我看一个岩洞，告诉我这岩洞曾是小偷的住所，指给我看他们藏匿武器、伏击村民的地方，并讲述了一个独腿贼是怎样以手代脚爬到地平线上的冰川去的。

[18]“When did they hole up『躲藏；藏匿』here?” I asked.

[18]“他们何时藏身于此？”我问。

[19] “About 900 years ago” was the answer. Nearly a millennium『1000年』, and the myth is still alive『存在；保留』.

[19]“大约900年前。”将近1000年过去了，可这个故事却依然在传诵。

[20]How many Americans have that kind of familiarity with their nation’s past, its myths『神话；传说』, its history? How many even care?

[20]有多少美国人对于自己祖国的过去，传说和历史也那般地熟悉？又有多少人留意过？

[21]I wish America’s multiculturalisms and historical revisionists would grasp『理解；领会』what Icelanders understand: trashing『抛弃；扔掉』your nation’s myths is the wrong way to create a better society. “A nation has to be tolerant of newcomers『新事物』,” say psychiatrist『精神病学家』Niel Micklem. “But if it loses its myths, it loses its center.”

[21]我希望美国的多元文化主义者和历史修正主义者能够理解冰岛人的这种思想：抛弃自己国家的传统来创造更好的社会是一种错误的方式。精神病学家尼尔·米克勒姆说：“一个民族应该接受新东西，但是，一个民族失去了自己的神话，就失去了自我。”

[22]Maybe I’m wrong. But I suspect『猜想；认为』that this loss of “center” is what makes so many Westerners unhappy amid their affluence『丰富；富裕』.

[22]也许我的想法是错误的。但我想正是这种“自我”的失去使得如此众多的西方人在富裕的生活中难以感受到愉快。