There is a woman named Huang Meilian who has suffered from cerebral palsy since she was a child. The symptoms of this disease are amazing, because the limbs lose their sense of balance, their hands and feet often move around, and their mouths often mumble vague words, which looks strange. According to her condition, the doctor judged that she would not live beyond 6 years old. In the eyes of ordinary people, she has lost her language ability and normal life, not to mention her future and happiness. However, she survived strongly. With tenacious will and perseverance, she was admitted to the famous University of California in the United States and obtained a doctorate in art. She expressed her feelings with her brush and good listening. In a lecture, a student boldly asked, "Dr. Huang, you grew up like this. What do you think of yourself? " Have you ever had a grudge? "Everyone present secretly blamed the student for his disrespect, but Huang Meilian was not happy at all. She wrote these lines on the blackboard very calmly:
First, I am so cute;
Second, my legs are very long and beautiful;
Third, mom and dad love me so much;
Fourth, I can draw and write;
5. I have a lovely cat; ……
Finally, she summed it up in one sentence: I only look at what I have, not what I don't have!
After reading the above story, we will be deeply moved by Huang Meilian's spirit of not giving in to fate and loving life. Yes, if you want to make life valuable, you must stand the test of hardships; If you want to live happily, you must accept and affirm yourself. In fact, in this world, everyone has different defects or unsatisfactory places. You are not the only unfortunate person. The key is how to look at and treat misfortune. There is no need to complain about fate, don't just look at what we don't have, look at what we have, and we will feel that we are actually rich. In the journey of life, we have all read many short stories that move us and make us think deeply. The philosophy and wisdom contained in these short stories have inspired our lives, comforted or shocked our hearts and touched us. In everyone's life, we need to understand some truths in order to make ourselves smarter; Everyone needs to be moved to make life full of passion.
I have read a collection of Chekhov's short stories. The first novel is called Bet. It's about a lawyer and an entrepreneur arguing at a salon party about a prisoner who was recently sentenced to 15 years in prison. Entrepreneurs believe that fifteen years' imprisonment is not as good as death penalty; Legalists believe that life is not as good as death, and living is hope. The two men argued endlessly and finally made a bet. Bet that the jurist asked the entrepreneur to lock him up. Fifteen years later, if the jurist has not breached the contract, all the property of the entrepreneur will be owned by the jurist. The next morning, the lawyer was shut up by the entrepreneur in a small room in his back garden with only a small window to deliver food. The lawyer squatted in this isolated hut and began his prison life. The entrepreneur provided him with the books he wanted to read every day. Time flies, jurists have finished reading the complete works of politics, economy, philosophy, science, theology and literature, and fifteen years have finally arrived. At this time, because the entrepreneur lost in the business field, he knew that he would become poor by then, so he decided to kill the lawyer the night before the expiration. The banker finally opened the rusty iron lock that had never been opened in fifteen years and found the lawyer sleeping on the table in front of the candle. When the banker was ready to kill the withered lawyer, he found a letter for him on the table. The letter said that he was grateful to the entrepreneurs. In the past fifteen years, he has read a lot of books, and this knowledge will be inexhaustible wealth in his life. He also understood a lot of truth. He decided not to want the entrepreneur's property any more. He will break out of the window before dawn tomorrow and automatically break the contract. After reading the letter, the banker decided to give up the idea of killing the jurist. Before dawn the next day, the jurist broke the contract and broke out of the window, saving not only the banker's property, but also his own life.
This novel seems to contain many truths. Love life, living is hope, and it should be its theme. The most precious thing in the world is life. Loving life does not mean being afraid of death. "Who hasn't died since ancient times?" ? I remember a poem by Qiu Jin: "I don't hesitate to buy a treasure knife, but it is worthwhile to exchange mink and fur for wine.". A bloody and diligent respect can still make Bi Taohua. " All people who have made great achievements at all times and in all countries understand the value of life and make use of it. All normal people cherish and love life. "People are inherently mortal, either as light as a feather or heavier than Mount Tai." Of course, everyone's death cannot be heavier than Mount Tai in life, but it can't be as light as a feather. People can't be suicidal. I often think of Dumas' words that all human happiness lies in hope and waiting. Living is happiness, hope is happiness, and waiting is happiness. All the operations of the whole human society are for human survival and the pursuit of happiness, which is the theme and purpose of human beings: without them, human life will lose its meaning.
Astronauts who have flown in space, scientists who have conducted scientific research in Antarctica, when they are far away from human groups, their hometown and their relatives, and when they come back to face the boundless and ruthless nature and space to challenge the limits of their lives, they understand everything, and they feel that human beings are very small and fragile in front of nature. At the same time, I think life is very precious and great. It is not easy and difficult for human beings to survive when they are facing the limit of life. Those who come back from challenging the limits of life think that human life is the best and happiest. They even think that human beings should not fight with each other. You don't know the value of having until you lose it. However, life can't be played like this, because life is only once. People who have challenged the limit of life have come from the edge of life and death, and they know how to cherish life and life. From this, I think of Jack London's novel Love Life: a touching story of two gold diggers struggling from the death line after suffering and tribulation; Let you feel how powerful people's vitality is, how strong people's desire for survival is, and people will deeply feel the value of life on the verge of death. So what reason do people who live in peace and prosperity have to commit suicide? Is there any reason to leave this world for no reason? Life will encounter many difficulties and hardships in its development, which just proves the value of life. Life is the foundation of all superstructure and material world. Because of human life, there is thought, hope and pursuit, there is this colorful and kaleidoscopic world.
Life is facing time and space, just as the ancients said, "From the perspective of its own changes, the world can't be seen in an instant; If you look at it from the same point of view, things are infinite. " Life is short and eternal. Life in this world is real, with family happiness, friendship of friends, love of lovers, ideals, beauty, pursuits and dreams. Only in this world can we create a truly beautiful paradise. Cherish life and sing the praises of life.
3. The story of loving life
I have known since childhood that people's life span is not very long.
When I was a baby, I was sickly, and the doctor told my parents to be prepared to die young. But I survived, although it was difficult.
Because I have a bad heart, I can't run and jump with other children. The sky in my childhood has always been gloomy, and I often hide in the corner and secretly cry. Weakness and loneliness turned into endless worries, tossed and turned in my young mind, which made me know life and death too early at that age and how stingy and cruel life was to me.
Then I grew up. Growing up in a season of falling flowers, my pale face glowed a little in the bright autumn sunshine. I was admitted to the university and fulfilled my dream that I dared not expect when I was a child.
Then I fell in love. That is a very kind boy, generous, open-minded and persistent. I am very happy to enjoy the happiness of being a girl and the endless satisfaction of having a boy. In his warm arms, the blush on my face never faded. For a long time, I almost forgot that I had a miserable childhood and a fragile body.
Until the spring of the last year of college, my boyfriend and I went for an outing. We sat back to back on the grass, looking at the blue sky and white clouds, the pine forest and the shepherd boy in the distance. We sang excitedly: "-I hope you can love me till I die, and I hope you can accompany me to the ends of the earth." -"When I got to the emotional place, my boyfriend excitedly held me in his arms and whispered in my ear," We will be together all our lives, okay? "
Life at that moment is so gorgeous and warm, and so condescending and gentle. Between the blue sky and the green grass, I know my heart is blooming like a flower, showing the beauty I have never had before.
But on that spring night, I stood by the window, listening to the distant insects outside the window, remembering the blue sky and white clouds, the grassland, the distant sheep and the full moon with infinite longing. Then, I cried.
I know how much I love that boy and how much he loves me like porcelain. Our love is pure and transparent, like a blooming flower. But maybe all the beautiful things are incomplete: he is full of energy and strong, but how can I accompany him through the ups and downs of his life with a weak heart and cartilage and a thin body? Love is so unbearable and anxious in the depths. It is better to leave his life early, give him a chance to have a complete love again, and give him a perfect life without regrets than to accompany him all his life and leave him half his life with bitterness.
I am destined not to belong to him, nor to any boy. I should have realized that.
So, after that spring night, I gradually alienated him and snubbed him. After graduating from college, I ignored his obstruction and went to a distant city. In my letter to him, I calmly wrote: "I don't love you anymore-"He didn't know how unbearable it was to deliberately escape from love, and how profound and painful it was to love without being sad!
Later, I faced people and things independently in that city, bearing the deep and shallow joys and sorrows in the world alone. Every time I pass a strange face in the crowd, I feel completely lonely, so I think of the boy who hates my fickle feelings. How did he know that I left him to love him more? How did he know that he had a kind and beautiful girl who would rather hurt himself than him? I just hate that God didn't give us this fate.
After giving up love, I just lived for my mother. Life is given by my mother, and I have no right to take it back. I can only maintain a little hope for my elderly mother. In fact, my mother shouldn't have created such a weak life. After many vicissitudes, I have to leave with many regrets. Life is sometimes unfair to everyone.
For more than half a year, I dragged my illness up and down, and after several struggles, I finally fell ill in the season when lilacs were in full bloom. Listen to your mother, it's time for lilacs to wither. Maybe everything is meant to be. Lilacs will wither soon. I think I will go with them.
As a result, a calm heart is more calm. When I leave, I want to fulfill two wishes: tell that boy that I have always loved him and hope that he will live up to me; Tell my mother again, don't feel sorry for me, just pretend that I didn't live this life more than 20 years ago! I calmly received two telegrams, calmly admitted to the hospital alone, and did not rush to confirm the rash. I waited.
The mother came with the boy. Maybe my mother hinted at the reason why I left him. As soon as he entered the ward, he glared at me fiercely, then held my hand with tears in his eyes, which made my heart tremble with pain.
Mother just kept silent. She has been preparing for more than 20 years, and the tears in her heart have run out.
Later, the doctor came in and asked my mother why she left me alone in this city, and why she didn't give my girlfriend care and encouragement, which made me so careless and depressed.
"Don't blame them, I know my life is short." I forgave my mother and defended him.
"In fact, when you were a child, your heart valve stenosis miraculously healed two or three years ago, but you were weak and didn't love life, and depression became a disease-"
"Miraculously," my mother repeated, looking at me in disbelief, then at the old doctor, and her dim eyes suddenly brightened.
"yes. Maybe-"The old doctor patted me on the shoulder:" Thanks to your boyfriend, you must love each other and be very happy. There are indeed many things in this world that are predestined and we can't change them; But there are many things you have to fight for yourself. As long as you are willing to cooperate with the treatment, you will soon have a complete life like a normal person! "
The old doctor is out. Boyfriend and mother were shocked. At that time, the afternoon sun shone warmly on my face, my mother and my boyfriend.
It took a long time for my boyfriend to react first. He ran out quickly. I heard other boys crying loudly outside the ward, so happy and vivid.
My mother at the bedside held me in her arms and laughed and cried all over her face. For an instant, the wrinkles on her face seemed to be much less.
Later, the old doctor cured me of my illness.
On the day of discharge, I took him and bowed deeply to him. I thank him. He not only restored my body, but more importantly, he gave me a shock in spirit and soul, and made me understand that life is so precious that I have to fight for everything by myself.
Yes, there are indeed many things in this world that are doomed and we cannot change; But there are also many things that we have to fight for ourselves. If life can be fought for, what else in the world can't be fought for?
4. Love Life by Jack London
The two of them limped down the river bank. Once, the one who walked in front slipped and swayed between rocks. They are very tired, because they have suffered for a long time, and their faces are full of sadness and gnashing of teeth. They are burdened with heavy burdens wrapped in blankets. Finally, the belt on my forehead is fairly strong, which helps me hang my luggage. They each carry a rifle. They walk with their shoulders forward, their heads forward and their eyes always on the ground.
"I hope there are two or three bullets around us," said the man who walked behind.
His voice is gloomy and dry, and there is no emotion at all. He said these words coldly; The one in front limped towards the white river, which flowed through the rocks and stirred up bubbles, and did not answer a word.
The one in the back followed him closely. Neither of them took off their shoes and socks, although the river was cold-their ankles ached and their feet were numb. Every time I go to the place where the river hits my knees, both of them can't stand still. The one who followed slipped on a smooth round stone and almost fell. However, he struggled to stand firm and let out a scream of pain. He seems a little dizzy, shaking his free hand, as if to hold something in the air. After standing firm, he walked forward again, only to shake again and almost fall. So he stood still and looked at the man in front without looking back.
He stood still for a moment, as if trying to convince himself. Then he shouted, "Hey, Bill, I sprained my ankle."
Bill waddled in the white river. He didn't look back.
The people behind him watched him walk like this; Although there was no expression on her face, her eyes showed the expression of a wounded deer.
The person in front limped to the other side and walked on without looking back, while the people in the river could only watch. His lips trembled a little, so the brown beard on his mouth was obviously shaking. He even stuck out his tongue and licked his lips unconsciously.
"Bill!" He shouted.
This is a strong man's cry for help in trouble, but Bill didn't look back. His partner looked at him, only to see him limping strangely, stumbling forward, stumbling up a gentle slope, and walking towards the not-so-bright sky on the short mountain. He kept watching him disappear over the hill. So he turned his eyes and slowly swept the world circle left by Bill. The sun near the horizon, like a fireball about to go out, is almost covered with chaotic fog and steam, which makes you feel like something dense, but its outline is vague and elusive. The man stood on one leg and took out his watch. It's four o'clock. In this season of late July or early August-he can't tell the exact date in a week or two-he knows that the sun is about in the northwest. Looking south, he knew that behind those desolate hills was the Great Bear Lake. At the same time, he also knows that in that direction, the boundary of the restricted area of the Arctic Circle goes deep into the frozen soil of Canada. The place where he stands is a tributary of copper river, and copper river itself flows northward to Coronation Bay and the Arctic Ocean. He has never been there, but once, he saw it on the map of Hudson's Bay Company.
He swept the world around him again. This is a worrying sight. There are blurred skylines everywhere. These mountains are all very low. There were no trees, no shrubs, no grass-nothing but a vast and terrible wilderness, which soon made his eyes show fear.
"Bill!" He whispered again and again, "Bill!"
He cowered in the white water, as if the vast world was squeezing him with overwhelming force, and cruelly assumed a arrogant power to destroy him. He was shaking like malaria, and even his gun crashed into the water. The sound finally woke him up. He struggled with his fear, tried his best to summon up his spirits, groped in the water and found the gun. He transferred his luggage to his left shoulder to relieve the burden of spraining his ankle. Then, he walked slowly, carefully and painfully to the river bank.
He didn't stop. He worked hard, regardless of the pain, and hurried up the slope to the hill where his partner disappeared-his appearance was even more ridiculous than that lame partner. But when I reached the top of the mountain, I only saw a dead, barren shallow valley. He fought his fear again, overcame it, moved his luggage to his left shoulder and hobbled down the hill.
The bottom of the valley is wet and covered with thick moss, which sticks to the water like a sponge. When he took a step, water splashed from his feet. Every time he lifts his feet, he will make a noise, because the wet moss always attracts his feet and refuses to relax. He walked on the good road, from one swamp to another, followed Bill's footsteps, and walked through piles of rocks, just like an island protruding in this moss sea.
Although he is alone, he is not lost. He knew that if he went further, he would come to a small lake where there were many tiny dead fir trees. The locals called it "Tiqing Niqili"-meaning "small stick land". And there is a stream leading to the lake. The stream is not white.
There are rushes on the stream-he remembers them clearly-but there are no trees, so he can walk along the stream until he reaches the watershed at the end of the water source. He will cross this watershed and go to the source of another stream, which flows westward. He can follow the current to where it pours into the tees river. There, under an overturned canoe, he can find a small pit with many stones piled on it. There are bullets from his empty gun in this pit, as well as a hook, fishing line and a small fish net-all tools for hunting and fishing. At the same time, he will find flour-not much-and a piece of cured pork and some beans.
Bill will wait for him there, and they will row south along the Dees River to the Great Bear Lake. Then, they will row south in the lake until they reach the Mackenzie River. When they get there, they will continue to go south, so they will never catch up with them in winter. Freeze the turbulence and make the weather colder. They will walk south to a warm Hudson Bay company station, where not only trees grow tall and lush, but also food is extremely abundant.
This is what this man thought when he struggled all the way forward. He is struggling not only with his own physical strength, but also with his own brain. He tried to think that Bill had not abandoned him, and that Bill would wait for him in the hiding place.
He had to think so, otherwise, he wouldn't have to work so hard. He would have been lying down and dead. When the fuzzy spherical sun slowly sinks to the northwest, he repeatedly thinks about every inch of the way they fled south before catching up with him and Bill in winter. He thought over and over about the food in the cellar and the head of the Hudson's Bay Company. He hasn't eaten for two days; As for the days when he didn't eat what he wanted, it was just over two days. He often bent down, picked up the gray berries on the moor, put them in his mouth, chewed them and swallowed them. This moor berry has only a small seed, which is covered with a little slurry. As soon as you enter, the water melts and the seeds are hot and bitter. He knows that these berries are not nutritious, but he still chews them patiently, hoping to ignore the truth and lessons.
At nine o'clock, he tripped over a stone. Due to extreme fatigue and weakness, he staggered and fell. He lay on his side and did not move for a moment. Then, he got out of the belt that tied his luggage, struggled awkwardly and sat reluctantly. It was not completely dark at this time, and he groped among the rocks in the lingering dusk, trying to find some dry moss. Later, he collected a pile, made a fire-a fire that smoked slowly-and then put a pot of water on it to boil.
The first thing he did when he opened his bag was to count his matches. One * * * sixty-six. To find the answer, he counted it three times. He divided them into several parts, wrapped them in oil paper, put one in his empty cigarette bag, one in the cap ring of his broken hat, and the last one in his shirt close to his chest. When he finished, he suddenly felt a panic, so he took them out completely, opened them and counted them again.
Still 66.
He is drying wet shoes and socks by the fire. The moccasins have become soaked. Felt socks are worn out in many places, and both feet are leather and still bleeding. One ankle is swollen and the blood vessels jump. He examined it. It's swollen as thick as a knee. He has two blankets. He tore one from one of them and tied his ankle tightly. In addition, he tore off a few pieces and wrapped them on his feet instead of moccasins and socks. Then, after drinking the pot of boiling water, he tightened his watch and climbed into two blankets.
He slept like a dead man. A brief darkness came and went around midnight.
The sun rises in the northeast-at least there is light in that direction, because the sun is covered by dark clouds.
At six o'clock, he woke up and lay quietly on his back. He looked up at the gray sky and knew he was hungry. When he rolled over on his elbow, a loud snore startled him. He saw a male deer, who was looking at him with alert and curious eyes. The animal was only fifty feet away from him, and his mind immediately saw the scene and taste of venison steak sizzling on the fire. Unconsciously, he grabbed the empty gun, aimed at the sight and pulled the trigger. The stag snorted, jumped up and ran away, only to hear the rattling of its hooves as it ran over the rocks.
The man scolded and threw away the empty gun. He struggled to his feet and groaned loudly. This is a very slow and arduous thing. His joints are like rusty hinges. They move slowly in the mortar, with great resistance, and they have to bite their teeth when bending over and stretching. Finally, his legs stopped, but it took another minute or so to straighten his waist so that he could stand up straight like a man.
He climbed a hill slowly and looked at the surrounding terrain. There are no trees, no bushes, nothing, only endless gray moss, occasionally a little gray rocks, a few gray lakes and a few gray streams, which is a little embellishment. The sky is gray. There is no sun and no shadow of the sun. He doesn't know where the north is. He has forgotten how he got here last night. But he didn't lose his way.
He knows this. Soon he will walk to the "small stick land". He thinks it's somewhere on the left, and it's not far-it's probably just over the next hill.
So he went back to his original place, packed his bags and prepared to leave. He clearly felt that three packs of matches were still there, although he didn't stop to count them again. However, he hesitated for a while and kept thinking there, this time for a thick deerskin pocket. This bag is not big. He can completely cover it with both hands. He knew it weighed 15 pounds-equivalent to the sum of all the other things in the bag-and the bag worried him. Finally, he put it aside and began to roll the bag. However, after rolling for a while, he stopped and stared at the deerskin pocket. He quickly grasped it in his hand and looked around with rebellious eyes, as if this wasteland was going to take it away; When he stood up and staggered to start the day's journey, the bag was still wrapped in the luggage behind him.
He turned left and walked, stopping to eat berries on the moor from time to time. The sprained ankle has become stiff, and his limping is more obvious than before, but compared with the pain in his stomach, his foot pain is nothing. The pain of hunger is severe. They attack from time to time, as if gnawing at his stomach, which makes him unable to concentrate on the route he has to take to reach the "small stick land". Berries on the moor can't relieve the pain, but the pungent smell makes his tongue and mouth hot.
He came to a valley where many grouse flapped their wings on rocks and wilderness. They shouted "Rolle-Rolle-Rolle". He hit them with a stone, but missed. He put his luggage on the ground and sneaked past like a cat catching a sparrow. Sharp stones passed through his trousers and cut his legs until the blood from his knees left a blood mark on the ground. But in the pain of hunger, this pain is nothing. He crawled on the wet moss, making his clothes wet and cold; But he didn't feel any of this, because his desire to eat was too strong. But the grouse are always flying around in front of him, swishing around. Later, their cry of "Rolle-Rolle-Rolle" became a mockery of him, so he cursed them and shouted at them with their shouts.
Once, he climbed next to a grouse who must have fallen asleep. He didn't see it until it jumped into his face from the corner of the rock. He was as scared as a grouse taking off. He grabbed it and only caught the feathers on three tails. When he watched it fly away, he hated it very much, as if it had done something wrong to him. Then he went back to his original place and shouldered his luggage.
As time went on, he walked into the endless valley, or wilderness, where there were more wild animals. A herd of reindeer passed by, about 20 of them, all within the range of elusive rifles. He has crazy ideas about chasing them, and he believes he can catch them. A black fox came up to him with a grouse in his mouth. The man gave a cry. It was a terrible cry. The fox ran away, but did not leave the grouse.
In the evening, he walked along a small river, and the milky white water with lime flowed through the sparse rushes. He grasped the roots of these rushes tightly and pulled out something as big as a nail on a tile, like a tender onion bud. This thing is tender. When his teeth bite into it, it will make a squeaking sound, as if it tastes good. But its fiber is not chewy.
It is made up of a little fiber full of water: like berries, it has no nutrition at all. He threw away his luggage, climbed into the rush and chewed like an ox. He is very tired and always wants to rest-lie down and sleep; But he had to continue to struggle-however, this is not necessarily because he is eager to reach the "small stick land", but mostly because hunger is forcing him. He looked for frogs in a small puddle, or dug bugs with his nails, although he also knew that there were neither frogs nor bugs in this far north.
He looked at every puddle, but it was useless. Finally, when the long twilight came, he found a unique small fish like a minnows in a puddle. He dipped his arm into the water until it reached his shoulder, but it slipped away again. So he grabbed it with both hands and muddied all the milky mud at the bottom of the pool. In a tense moment, he fell into the pit and was soaked to the skin. Now, the water is too muddy to see where the fish are, so he has to wait until the mud settles.
He scratched again until the water became turbid again. But he couldn't wait, so he took off the tin can and scooped out the water in the pit. At first, he spooned wildly and splashed water on himself. At the same time, the spilled water got too close and the water flowed into the pit again. Later, he scooped more carefully and tried to calm himself down, although his heart was pounding and his hands were shaking. After half an hour, the water in the pit was almost emptied. There is not even a cup.
However, there are no fish; Only then did he find a dark crack in the stone, from which the fish had got into an adjacent pit-he scooped up the water in the pit day and night. If he knew the secret crack, he would have blocked it from the beginning, and the fish would have been his own. He thought like this and fell feebly on the wet ground. At first, he just cried softly.