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第3章 最美丽的蔷薇(2)

Marriage is not something that happens in heaven, it happens here, through the crafty priests. But if you want to join the game with society and don‘t want to stand alone and aloof, you make it clear to your wife or to your husband that this marriage is just a game: "Never take it seriously. I will remain as independent as I was before marriage, and you will remain as independent as you were before marriage. Neither I am going to interfere in your life, nor are you going to interfere in my life; we will live as two friends together, sharing our joys, sharing our freedom -- but not becoming a burden on each other. And any moment we feel that the spring has passed, the honeymoon is over, we will be sincere enough not to go on pretending, but to say to each other that we loved much -- and we will remain grateful to each other forever, and the days of love will haunt us in our memories, in our dreams, as golden -- but the spring is over. Our paths have come to a point, where although it is sad, we have to part, because now, living together is not a sign of love. If I love you, I will leave you the moment I see my love has become a misery to you. If you love me, you will leave me the moment you see that your love is creating an imprisonment for me."

Love is the highest value in life: It should not be reduced to stupid rituals. And love and freedom go together -- you cannot choose one and leave the other. A man who knows freedom is full of love, and a man who knows love is always willing to give freedom. If you cannot give freedom to the person you love, to whom can you give freedom? Giving freedom is nothing but trusting. Freedom is an expression of love.

So whether you are married or not, remember, all marriages are fake -- just social conveniences. Their purpose is not to imprison you and bind you to each other; their purpose is to help you to grow with each other. But growth needs freedom; and in the past, all the cultures have forgotten that without freedom, love dies.

You see a bird on the wing in the sun, in the sky, and it looks so beautiful. Attracted by its beauty, you can catch the bird and put it in a golden cage.

Do you think it is the same bird? Superficially, yes, it is the same bird who was flying in the sky; but deep down it is not the same bird -- because where is its sky, where is its freedom?

This golden cage may be valuable to you; it is not valuable to the bird. For the bird, to be free in the sky is the only valuable thing in life. And the same is true about human beings.

你问:“结婚后还保持自由,可能吗?”

轻松地看待婚姻,自由是可能的;严肃地看待婚姻,自由绝不可能。把婚姻就看作游戏——它是个游戏。多一点幽默感,它只是你在人生舞台上扮演的一个角色;并不属于存在,也没有真实性——它是个虚构。

但人们如此愚蠢,居然把虚构当作现实。我看见,人们读小说,悲惨的故事让他们流泪。播放电影时,把灯关掉,这样做很好,因此每个人能享受这部电影,欢笑、哭泣、伤心、快乐。如果灯开着,这就有点难——如果表露情绪,别人会怎么想?他们知道得很清楚,屏幕空无一物——没有人,只是投影的图像。但他们完全忘了这个事实。

我们的生活里,也发生同样的事。很多事情,只须幽默看待,我们却那么严肃——结果问题纷至沓来。

首先,你为什么要结婚呢?你爱某人,与某人一起生活——这都是你的基本权利。你能与某人一起生活,你能爱某人。

天堂里没有婚姻,只在尘世,通过牧师的狡诈而存在。但是,如果你不想超然独立,而想参与这个社会游戏,那么你就要让你的妻子或丈夫弄清楚,婚姻仅仅是个游戏:“别把婚姻看得那么严肃。婚姻中,我将保持独立性,与婚前一样,你也是如此。你不妨碍我的生活,我也不妨碍你的生活;我们生活在一起,像两个好朋友,分享喜悦,分享自由——但绝不成为对方的负担。任何时刻,感觉到春天消失和蜜月结束,我们将足够真诚,绝不伪装,而告诉对方:我们曾非常相爱——我们将对此永远保持感激,那些充满爱的时光,萦绕在我们的记忆和梦里,如黄金般宝贵——但现在春天结束了。我们已走到那个点,尽管令人伤心,但我们必须分开,因为现在,共同生活不再是爱的象征。如果我真地爱你,当看见我的爱让你痛苦时,我将离开你;如果你真地爱我,当你看见你的爱禁锢我时,你将离开我。”

爱是生命的最高价值:它不该蜕化为愚蠢的仪式。爱和自由在一起——不能做选择。知道自由的人充满了爱,知道爱的人总会给予自由。如果你不能给你所爱的人自由,那你又能把自由给谁呢?给予自由不是别的,就是信任。自由就是爱的表达。

所以无论你是否结婚,记住,一切婚姻都是捏造品——仅仅为了社会的方便。婚姻的意图,不是让你们彼此囚禁和束缚,而是让你们彼此帮助,共同成长。但成长需要自由;在过去,所有文化都遗忘了:没有自由,爱就消失。

你看见一只鸟,在阳光灿烂的天空中飞翔,多么美!它的美吸引着你,你能捉住它,把它放进金鸟笼里。

你认为它还是原来那只鸟吗?表面上,它还是那只在天空中飞翔的鸟,但是,在深处它已经不是原来那只鸟——因为,没有它的天空,哪来它的自由?

这个金鸟笼,对你而言,也许有价值;对鸟而言,毫无价值。在鸟看来,空中的自由飞翔,才是它生命中唯一的价值。对于人类,也是同样的道理。

The most beautiful roses

最美丽的蔷薇

The old lady had always been proud of the great rose-tree in her garden, and was fond of telling how it had grown from a cutting she had brought years before from Italy, when she was first married. She and her husband had been travelling back in their carriage from Rome ( it was before the time of railways ) and on a bad piece of road south of Siena they had broken down, and had been forced to pass the night in a little house by the road-side. The accommodation was wretched of course; she had spent a sleepless night, and rising early had stood, wrapped up, at her window, with the cool air blowing on her face, to watch the dawn. She could still, after all these years, remember the blue mountains with the bright moon above them, and how a far-off town on one of the peaks had gradually grown whiter and whiter, till the moon faded, the mountains were touched with the pink of the rising sun, and suddenly the town was lit as by an illumination, one window after another catching and reflecting the sun"s beam, till at last the whole little city twinkled and sparkled up in the sky like a nest of stars.

That morning, finding they would have to wait while their carriage was being repaired, they had driven in a local conveyance up to the city on the mountain, where they had been told they would find better quarters; and there they had stayed two or three days. It was one of the miniature Italian cities with a high church, a pretentious piazza, a few narrow streets and little palaces, perched, all compact and complete, on the top of a mountain, within and enclosure of walls hardly larger than an English kitchen garden. But it was full of life and nose, echoing all day and all night with the sounds of feet and voices.

The Cafe of the simple inn where they stayed was the meeting place of the notabilities of the little city; the Sindaco, the avvocato, the doctor, and a few others; and among them they noticed a beautiful, slim, talkative old man, with bright black eyes and snow-white hair — tall and straight and still with the figure of a youth, although the waiter told them with pride that the Conte was molto vecchio — would in fact be eightey in the following year. He was the last of his family, the waiter added — they had once been great and rich people — but he had no descendants; in fact the waiter mentioned with complacency, as if it were a story on which the locality prided itself, that the Conte had been unfortunate in love, and had never married.

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