西雅图之梦
雪漠
不知何时,我竟漂浮在了一个梦境之中,
天空阴沉,暗淡无光,宛如失彩的世界。
我眼前,是一片无垠的荒漠,
一条泥泞的白色小路,
伸向蛮荒的原始森林。
一种前所未有的恐惧,
暗夜般笼罩了我的心。
我独自开始捡石铺路,心情无比沉重,
因为路的尽头遥不可及,望不到边际。
我不知道通向何方?
也不知道何时结束?
我只是像一位流放的苦役犯,
铺路!铺路!
我拣来各种各样的石块,
拼在泥泞里。
一条泥泞中的小路,
一路延伸而去……
这时,一位女子悄然来到我身边。
我问她:“你最喜欢我的哪一本书?”
“《娑萨朗》。”
她轻声答复,随即与我一同铺路。
不久,一位男子也走向我,
我问他,“你最喜欢我的哪本书?”
“《大漠祭》。”
回答后,他也加入了我们的行列。
渐渐地,更多的人加入进来,手中紧握着珍爱的书,
《无死的金刚心》、《佛陀的智慧》、《老子的心事》……
他们是我的读者,每一个人的心都沉甸甸的,
因为我们都不知道如何成功,又将去往何方。
也有人在铺路中生病,
也有人在铺路中死去,
也有人在铺路中离去,
人虽然渐渐多了,
但仍然看不到目的地。
于是,我追问,
这永无尽头的铺路,
究竟有何意义?
疲惫时,我们便停下脚步,享用茶水与点心。
慢慢地,轻风拂过了愁容,鸟鸣敲开了笑颜。
休息之后,我们继续铺路,
渐渐地,我们有了快乐。
累了,我们休息,喝茶,聊天,
欢歌笑语,好生快乐。
然后,接着铺路。
那路,伸向远方。
虽然不知道它何时成功,
但因为在一起做事,
快乐总是接踵而至。
过来一位美丽的女子,
她笑着到我身边,
我问,“你最喜欢我写的哪本书?”
她笑颜如花,轻轻挥手说:我忘了……
但她的笑容,仍如夏花般绚烂。
于是,我想:无论她以前喜欢我的什么作品,
但一定喜欢我的新作,
它叫《如何生活?》
只要我们在一起生活,做啥并不重要。
这时,一股幸福袭来,我放声大哭。
一束金色的阳光光芒下射,
它穿透了阴霾,照亮了眼前的世界。
路仍旧望不见尽头,
但我们继续铺路,伴着歌声,和着喜悦。
我们的相聚,
不是为了完成某个项目,
我们只是在找一个相聚的理由,
让我们的生命紧紧相连。
抱团取暖,享受当下。
拥抱未知,勇敢向前。
The
Dream of Seattle
by Xue Mo
At an
unknown moment, I found myself adrift in a dreamscape. The sky was gloomy and
dim, devoid of sunlight, reminiscent of a world stripped of color. Before me,
an endless desert unfurled, and a muddy white path snaked through it, leading
into a wild, untamed forest. A fear unlike any I’d experienced before filled my
heart, as dark and suffocating as the deepest night.
I
began to lay stones for the path alone, my spirits weighed down by the
realization that the road’s end was out of reach, its limits unseen. Where did
it lead? When would it end? I felt like a convict exiled to hard labor,
endlessly paving the road. I picked up various stones, piecing them together in
the mud. A muddy road unfolded before me, stretching into the distance…
Then,
a woman quietly approached me. I asked her, “Which of my books do you like the
most?” “Suosalang,” she whispered, before she began to work alongside me.
Soon
after, a man made his way towards me. I posed the same question to him. “Desert
Rites,” he answered, and without hesitation, he joined us.
Gradually,
more people arrived, each holding dearly to their favorite books: Eternal Mind,
The Buddha’s Wisdom, Laozi’s True Thoughts... They were my readers, all
burdened with uncertainty, not knowing which direction success lay or where our
journey might lead.
Some
fell ill during this journey, some passed away, while others chose to leave us.
Despite the increase in our numbers, the destination remained elusive. Thus, I
pondered, What is the meaning of this endless endeavor?
When
wearied, we would stop for tea and snacks, letting the breeze and birdsong
sweep away our sorrows and bring smiles to our faces. As our spirits were
uplifted, we resumed our work, and bit by bit, joy found its way to us. Weary
again, we would rest, chat, and drink tea, laughing heartily before returning
to our path. That path extended far into the distance. Although its completion
was uncertain, happiness always followed because we were together.
A
beautiful lady dropped by, her smile reaching me before she did. I asked,
“Which book is your favorite?” Her smile, as radiant as summer flowers, only
brightened as she waved off the question, “I can’t remember...” Yet, her smile
remained as dazzling as ever.
Reflecting
on this, I thought: regardless of which of my past works she favored, she would
surely love my latest— “How to Live?” What matters is not what we do, but that
we live our lives together. Suddenly, a wave of happiness overwhelmed me, and I
burst into tears. A beam of golden sunlight broke through the gloom,
illuminating the world before me.
The
end of the road was still out of sight, but we continued to pave, our voices
blending in song, our hearts swelling with joy.
Our
gathering’s purpose was not to complete a specific project, but to find a
pretext for togetherness, for weaving our lives closely together. We clustered
for warmth, savored the present, embraced the unknown, and advanced with
courage.