THE ONLY REVOLUTION CALIFORNIA PART 2/《唯一的革命》 加利福尼亚 第二篇
THE ONLY REVOLUTION CALIFORNIA PART 2《唯一的革命》 加利福尼亚 第二篇
Meditation is a neverending movement. You can never say that you are meditating or set aside a period for meditation. It isn't at your command. Its benediction doesn't come to you because you lead a systematized life or follow a particular routine or morality. It comes only when your heart is really open. Not opened by the key of thought, not made safe by the intellect, but when it is as open as the skies without a cloud; then it comes without your knowing, without your invitation. But you can never guard it, keep it, worship it. If you try, it will never come again: do what you will, it will avoid you. In meditation, you are not important, you have no place in it; the beauty of it is not you, but in itself. And to this you can add nothing. Don't look out of the window hoping to catch it unawares, or sit in a darkened room waiting for it; it comes only when you are not there at all, and its bliss has no continuity.
冥想是永无止境的运动。你永远不能说你在冥想或者留出一段时间来冥想。它不受你控制。因为你过着系统化的生活或者遵循特定的一套例行公事或道德体系，所以它的至福不会来到你身边。只有当你的心真正开放的时候，它才会来临。不是被思想的钥匙打开，也不是因为智力变得安全，而是当心像无云的天空一样开阔时，它就会在你毫不知晓之时不约而至。但是你永远无法守卫他、保持它、膜拜它。如果你试图这么做，它就再也不会来临：无论你做什么，它都会避开你。在冥想中，你并不重要，你在其中毫无一席之地；它的美并不是你的，而是在它自身之中。而对此你什么也添加不了。不要望向窗外希望能不经意地捕捉到它，或者坐在黑暗的房间里等它；只有当你根本就不在时，它才会来临，而它的极乐没有延续性。
The mountains looked down on the endless blue sea, stretching out for miles. The hills were almost barren, sunburned, with small bushes, and in their folds there were trees, sunburned and fire-burned, but they were still there, flourishing and very quiet. There was one tree especially, an enormous old oak, that seemed to dominate all the hills around it. And on the top of another hill there was a dead tree, burnt by fire; there it stood naked, grey, without a single leaf. When you looked at those mountains, at their beauty and their lines against the blue sky, this tree alone was seen to hold the sky. It had many branches, all dead, and it would never feel the spring again. Yet it was intensely alive with grace and beauty; you felt you were part of it, alone with nothing to lean on, without time. It seemed it would be there for ever, like that big oak in the valley too. One was living and the other was dead, and both were the only things that mattered among these hills, sunburnt, scorched by the fire, waiting for the winter rains. You saw the whole of life, including your own life, in those two trees - one living, one dead. And love lay in between, sheltered, unseen, undemanding.
延伸数英里的群山俯瞰着无尽的蔚蓝大海。这些山几乎光秃秃一片，在烈日下灼晒着，有些小的灌木丛，在它们的山坳里有些树林，被太阳晒过也被火烧过，但是它们依然在那里，茂密地生长着，也很安静。有一棵树很特别，一棵巨大的老橡树，它似乎统治着周围的所有山丘。而另一座山的山顶上，有棵枯树，被火烧过了；它赤裸裸地站在那儿，灰灰的没有一片树叶。当你看着那些山脉，看着它们的美和它们映衬在蓝天下的线条，单独的这一棵树看起来好像包容了整个天空。它有很多枝条，都枯死了，它再也感受不到春天。然而它却依然带着优雅和美活力四射地存在着；你感觉到自己是它的一部分，无所依靠地独自站在那里，超越了时间。它似乎永远都会在那里，就像山谷里那棵老橡树一样。一棵还活着，另一棵枯死了，而它们是被烈日和山火炙烤过、正等待着冬雨来临的这群山中唯一重要的东西。你在那两棵树身上——一棵活着，一颗死了，看到了整个生命，包括你自己的生命。而爱就在生死之间，隐蔽着未被发现，又轻而易举。
Under the house lived a mother with four of her young. The day we arrived they were there on the veranda, the mother racoon with her four babies. They were immediately friendly - with their sharp black eyes and soft paws - demanding to be fed and at the same time nervous. The mother was aloof. The next evening they were there again and they took their food from your hands and you felt their soft paws; they were ready to be tamed, to be petted. And you wondered at their beauty and their movement. In a few days they would be all over you, and you felt the immensity of life in them.
房子下面住着一位母亲和她的四个孩子。我们到的那天它们正在阳台上，浣熊妈妈和她的四个幼崽。它们很快就变得友好——它们有着敏锐的眼睛和柔软的爪子——要求喂食，同时也有些紧张。母亲有些冷淡。第二天晚上它们又来了，从你的手里取食，你能感觉到它们柔软的爪子；它们很乐意被驯养、被抚摸。而你讶异于它们的美和它们的动作。几天后，它们会爬得你满身都是，你能从它们身上感受到生命的无限。
It was a lovely clear day and every little tree and bush stood out clearly against the bright sun. The man had come from the valley, up the hill to the house which overlooked a gully and, beyond it, a whole range of mountains. There were a few pines near the house and tall bamboos. He was a young man full of hope, and the brutality of civilization had not yet touched him. What he wanted was to sit quiet, to be silent, made silent not only by the hills but also by the quietness of his own urgency.
这是个晴朗的美丽日子，每棵小树和灌木都清晰地屹立在艳阳下。那个人从山谷里来，爬上山，来到了俯瞰着溪谷的这所房子，房子的后边是绵延的宽广山脉。房子附近有几棵松树和高高的竹子。他是个满怀希望的年轻人，残酷的文明还没有污染他。他想要的是安静地坐着，静默下来，不仅仅是群山使他寂静，还有他自己的急切中带有的寂静。
"What part do I play in this world? What is my relationship to the whole existing order? What is the meaning of this endless conflict? I have a love; we sleep together. And yet that is not the end. All this seems like a distant dream, fading and coming back, throbbing one moment, meaningless the next. I have seen some of my friends taking drugs. They have become stupid, dull-witted. Perhaps I too, even without drugs, will be made dull by the routine of life and the ache of my own loneliness. I don't count among these many millions of people. I shall go the way the others have gone, never coming upon a jewel that is incorruptible, that can never be stolen away, that can never tarnish. So I thought I'd come up here and talk to you, if you have the time. I'm not asking for any answers to my questions. I am perturbed: though I am very young I am already discouraged. I see the old, hopeless generation around me with their bitterness, cruelty, hypocrisy, compromise and prudence. They have nothing to give and, strangely enough, I don't want anything from them. I don't know what I want, but I do know that I must live a life that is very rich, that is full of meaning. I certainly don't want to enter some office and gradually become somebody in that shapeless, meaningless existence. I sometimes cry to myself at the loneliness and the beauty of the distant stars."
“我在这个世界上有什么作用？我与现存的整个秩序之间有什么关系？这无尽的冲突有什么意义？我有个爱人；我们同床共枕。然而这还不是终点。这一切就像一个遥远的梦，褪去了又回来，这一刻悸动着，下一刻又变得毫无意义。我看到我的一些朋友在嗑药。他们变得愚蠢、迟钝。或许我也一样，尽管不嗑药，也会被例行公事的生活和我自己孤独的痛苦变得迟钝。置身千百万人中，我并不重要。我应该走别人都走的路，永远也碰不到不会腐败的一颗珍宝，它永远不会被偷走，也永远不会黯淡。所以我想我应该来这里跟你谈谈，如果你有时间的话。我不是想为我的问题寻求答案。我很不安：尽管我很年轻，但我已经气馁了。我看到了我周围那些年长的人们、无望的一代，以及他们的痛苦、残忍、虚伪、妥协和谨小慎微。他们无可给予，而奇怪的是，我也不想要他们任何东西。我不知道我想要什么，但是我确实知道我必须过一种非常丰富的、充满了意义的生活。我当然不想到某个办公室工作并逐渐变成那样混乱而无意义地存在着的一个人。我有时会因为孤独和遥远群星的美而独自哭泣。”
We sat quietly for some time, and the pine and the bamboo were caught in the breeze.
我们安静地坐了一会儿，松树和竹子随微风舞动。
The lark and the eagle in their flight leave no mark; the scientist leaves a mark, as do all specialists. You can follow them step by step and add more steps to what they have found and accumulated; and you know, more or less, where their accumulation is leading. But truth is not like that; it is really a pathless land; it may be at the next curve of the road, or a thousand miles away. You have to keep going and then you will find it beside you. But if you stop and trace out a way for another to follow, or a design for your own way of life, it will never come near you.
飞翔中的百灵鸟和鹰不留下一丝痕迹；而科学家们留下痕迹，就像所有的专家一样。你可以亦步亦趋地追随他们，并在他们所发现和积累的基础上再增添几步；而你或多或少地知道，他们的积累通向何方。但是真理不像那样；它真的是无路之国；它也许就在路的下一个转角，也许在千里之外。你得一直走下去，然后发现它就在你身边。但是如果你停下来，并踩出一条别人可以追随的路，或者设计出你自己的一种生活方式，那么它就永远不会走近你。
"Is this poetic, or actual?"
“这是诗，还是真实的？”
What do you think? For us everything must be cut and dried so that we can do something practical with it, build something with it, worship it. You can bring a stick into the house, put it on a shelf, put a flower before it every day, and after some days the stick will have a great deal of meaning. The mind can give meaning to anything, but the meaning it gives is meaningless. When one asks what is the purpose of life, it's like worshipping that stick. The terrible thing is that the mind is always inventing new purposes, new meanings, new delights, and always destroying them. It is never quiet. A mind that is rich in its quietness never looks beyond what is. One must be both the eagle and the scientist, knowing well that the two can never meet. This doesn't mean that they are two separate things. Both are necessary. But when the scientist wants to become the eagle, and when the eagle leaves its footprints, there is misery in the world.
你认为呢？对我们来说，一切都必须是设定好的，这样我们就能就此做些实际的东西、建造点什么，或者膜拜它。你可以把一根木棍拿到房子里，把它放在架子上，每天在它跟前放朵花，那么过些日子，这根木棍就有了很多意义。头脑能赋予任何东西以意义，但是它赋予的意义毫无意义。当一个人问生活的目的是什么，那就像膜拜那根木棍。可怕的事情是头脑总是在发明新的目的、新的意义、新的快乐，同时又总是在破坏它们。它从不安静。自身富于寂静的心灵从不把眼光投向现状之外。一个人必须既是鹰又是科学家，同时非常清楚这两者永远无法相遇。这并不意味着它们是分离的两件事情。两者都是必需的。但是当科学家想要变成鹰，而鹰留下脚印，世界上就有了苦难。
You are quite young. Don't ever lose your innocency and the vulnerability that it brings. That is the only treasure that man can have, and must have.
你还很年轻。永远不要丢失你的纯真以及纯真带来的敏感。那是人类能够拥有和必须拥有的唯一珍宝。
"Is this vulnerability the be-all and end-all of existence? Is it the only priceless jewel that can be discovered?"
“这敏感是不是生命中的一切和结局？它是不是能发现的唯一的无价之宝？”
You can't be vulnerable without innocency, and though you have a thousand experiences, a thousand smiles and tears, if you don't die to them, how can the mind be innocent? It is only the innocent mind - in spite of its thousand experiences - that can see what truth is. And it is only truth that makes the mind vulnerable - that is, free.
没有纯真，你就不可能敏感，尽管你拥有无数经验、无数欢笑和泪水，如果你不让它们死去，心灵怎么可能纯真？只有纯真的心——尽管它有无数经验——才能看到真理是什么。而只有真理能使得心灵敏感——也就是自由。
"You say you can't see truth without being innocent, and you can't be innocent without seeing truth. This is a vicious circle, isn't it?"
“你说不纯真你就看不到真理，而看不到真理你就无法纯真。这是个恶性循环，不是吗？”
Innocency can be only with the death of yesterday. But we never die to yesterday. We always have a remnant, a tattered part of yesterday remaining, and it is this that keeps the mind anchored, held by time. So time is the enemy of innocency. One must die every day to everything that the mind has captured and holds on to. Otherwise there is no freedom. In freedom there is vulnerability. It is not the one thing after the other - it is all one movement, both the coming and the going. It is really the fullness of heart that is innocent.
纯真只能伴随昨天的死去而来。但是我们从不让昨天死去。我们总是留有残余，昨天留下的破烂不堪的一部分，而正是这些让心灵抛锚，受制于时间。所以时间是纯真的敌人。一个人必须每天对头脑所捕捉、所抱持的一切死去。否则就没有自由。在自由中就有敏感。不是先有其一后有其二——这都是同一个运动，既是来也是去。这正是纯真心灵的圆满。
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