早已習慣了每日慣常雜事工作，沒有厭煩之感，也懶得花費時間和心神去抱怨。總之，該做的事情總是等著你去做，不多不少，也不會自己消失不見。
四個月前的某天清晨，天空並非特別藍，清早的氣溫也不甚惱人。我拉著裝滿了雜物的推車，走在尚未有人群出沒的長路上。我逆向走在路的左側，傍著一個人工湖，路的右側有一排大樹。
忽然，好似有匹黑色的長布自我視線右前方的空間灑下，原來是兩隻黑色小鳥，凌空飛過、急轉直下，一齊拐了個急轉彎後落於路上。那樣靈巧的身影，彷彿在空氣中畫出了兩條暫時存在的黑線，也像是畫筆隨興地留下兩道渾然天成的墨跡。
我的注意力頓時被牠們奪走，停下了腳步，站在距離牠們數公尺處。於我而言，更加富有神性的事情發生了。兩隻黑鳥之間相距約二十公分，收妥翅膀，彷彿將雙手背在身後。其中一隻首先點了點頭，另一隻隨即也點了回去。我這才意識到，牠們正在對話。牠們的姿態輕巧、輕盈，我自然永遠無法意會牠們之間的絮語，但我知道那絕對非是爭吵，也非訴說離情別緒。
這似乎是我第一次體會到，動物本來就有其神性，如同你我人類一般。
換個角度想，我們總是用自己的角度衡量他人，自然地或故意地忽略太多必須正視的事實，擅自妄下定義、自作聰明地企圖為所有事物做出分類。
2010年11月6日
前陣子在看「我的家在高原上」
I was reading a book "My home is on the plareau"(我的家在高原上), written by a famous taiwanese female poet,席慕蓉. She is 67 years old now. Both of her parents was born and grew up in Mongolia. They were the socalled noble in the traditional Mongolia society. After 1949, her family couldn't help but move to Taiwan with Chiang Kai-shek's government. And they never came back home again.
Before 1989, almost all Taiwanese people were not allowed to go to Mainland China whether for travel, business...etc. Therefore, their eager to go home was restrained for a long time.
The poet was born in Si-Chuan Province and grew up in Hong Kong. That is, she had never saw the land where her parents once longered and rushed about on the horseback. For many years, she had tried in many ways to recall and write down the pieces of her parents' memories and her own imagination about Mongolia.
Right after the ban was removed by president Chiang Ching-Kuo, the poet began her journey to Mongolia. It was only after the first time she stood on the Mongolia Plateau that she started her life which is truly linked with the land. The land with sky and grass land.
I think, I've always been easily moved by essays or movies about migrants caused by wars, political reasons, or any other tragedy. I guess that is definitely because my grand parents were exactly of the same kind of people as those migrants. During the civil war, they moved the entire family from one city to another, and never came back home. At last, the strait separated them form their hometown forever.
However, there was still something lucky in the tragic story. My grand parents went to Taiwan together(with my father's oldest sister), safe and sound. And they are now buried side by side, on the hill Da-Du mountain in Taichung County. Luckily they didn't lose each other during the war, while many families were.
Before 1989, almost all Taiwanese people were not allowed to go to Mainland China whether for travel, business...etc. Therefore, their eager to go home was restrained for a long time.
The poet was born in Si-Chuan Province and grew up in Hong Kong. That is, she had never saw the land where her parents once longered and rushed about on the horseback. For many years, she had tried in many ways to recall and write down the pieces of her parents' memories and her own imagination about Mongolia.
Right after the ban was removed by president Chiang Ching-Kuo, the poet began her journey to Mongolia. It was only after the first time she stood on the Mongolia Plateau that she started her life which is truly linked with the land. The land with sky and grass land.
I think, I've always been easily moved by essays or movies about migrants caused by wars, political reasons, or any other tragedy. I guess that is definitely because my grand parents were exactly of the same kind of people as those migrants. During the civil war, they moved the entire family from one city to another, and never came back home. At last, the strait separated them form their hometown forever.
However, there was still something lucky in the tragic story. My grand parents went to Taiwan together(with my father's oldest sister), safe and sound. And they are now buried side by side, on the hill Da-Du mountain in Taichung County. Luckily they didn't lose each other during the war, while many families were.
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