Two Truths to Live By
ALEXANDER M.SCHINDLER
The art of living is to know when to hold fast and when to let go. For life is a paradox: it enjoins us to cling to its many gifts even while it ordains([or·dain || ɔr'deɪn /ɔː'd-]v. 注定, 任命, 规定) their eventual relinquishment([re'lin·quish·ment || rɪ'lɪnkwɪʃmənt]n. 作罢; 让渡). The rabbis([rab·bi || 'ræbaɪ]n. 犹太教祭司; 法师, 大师; 犹太教律法专家) of old put it this way: “A man comes to this world with his fist clenched, but when he dies, his hand is open.”
Surely we ought to hold fast to life, for it is wondrous, and full of a beauty that breaks through every pore([pɔr /pɔː]n. 毛孔; 细孔; 气孔v. 注视, 凝视; 默想, 沉思; 钻研, 熟读) of God’s own earth. We know that this is so, but all too often(时常) we recognize this truth only in our backward glance when we remember what was and then suddenly realize that it is no more.
We remember a beauty that faded, a love that waned(wane [weɪn]n. 衰微, 变弱, 亏缺). But we remember with far greater pain that we did not see that beauty when it flowered, that we failed to respond with love when it was tendered.
A recent experience re-taught me this truth. I was hospitalized following a severe heart attack and had been in intensive care for several days. It was not a pleasant place.
One morning, I had to have some additional tests. The required machines were located in a building at the opp