李云迪和朗朗 1/16/2007 21:02
今天上生活网看见朗朗音乐会的消息,就急急忙忙把票订了。这场独奏音乐会,我已经期待很久。

第一次看见朗朗,是2005年秋天,他跟随中国爱乐到我们学校演出,演奏一个协奏曲。他穿着礼服上台,是那样的年轻、生气勃勃,很帅气地向观众鞠躬,然后坐下来。中国爱乐是属于那种中规中矩的乐团,并不很让人惊艳,所以大家对朗朗的期望并不是很高。谁知他的手指一碰上琴弦,我们的心就给俘获了,那种行云流水的韵致,那种诗情画意的表达,像一张舒蜜的网,将我们笼罩其中。只恨当时中国爱乐的声音太大,有些盖住朗朗的琴音,这于是让我无比期待他的独奏音乐会。

2006年春,李云迪在我们学校开独奏音乐会。其时,我已看过许多关于他的故事,也听过他的曲子,但坐在离他不远的台下看他演奏,尚属头次。他当时才23岁吧,但举手投足间显示出与年龄不相称的老成持重和大师风范。在全场观众的欢呼声中,李云迪走到台前,面色平静,他像传说中描述的一般清秀俊美。向观众致意后,李云迪看看钢琴,随后果断地把放琴谱的架子卸下来,放到地上,全场哗然。待他坐下来,全场立刻又无比肃静,所有的眼睛都盯着他的手,所有的心都在等待一个不世出的天才为我们送来美妙的声音。

李云迪的演奏精准、含蓄、技巧无以伦比。弹到高潮处,观众已看不见他的手指,云山雾罩,却又没有一丝杂音。我身边一个在茱丽亚学过音乐的老大爷不停地叹息:Unbelievable! 音乐会结束时,李云迪的礼服已经湿透,而观众看他站了起来,才如梦初醒,也站起来鼓掌。我们学校的演出中心每年人来人往,世界一流乐团、巨星已数见不鲜,但那晚的鼓掌叫好非同寻常的热烈,让我感觉到一种从心底发出的震撼与惊喜。

比较起来,朗朗是个浪漫唯美的诗人,李云迪则是一丝不苟的巨匠;朗朗深情写意,充满想象力,李云迪精致内敛,充满爆发力;朗朗用琴声表达对世界的爱,李云迪用琴声让世界爱上他;朗朗的琴艺浑然天成,李云迪的琴艺收放自如;朗朗如风,有着灵动不羁的活力,李云迪似水,带着清澈脱俗的灵魂。

1月底是朗朗的独奏音乐会,2月底又是李云迪随德国莱比锡交响乐团演出,正好与我先前去过的两人的演出掉了个。这次我要好好听听,有新的心得,再录下来。
革命 1/15/2007 23:26
革命这个词并不能引起我的敬畏,可能,恐惧之情还有那么一点。而Brinton的《革命的解析》对这种抵触有推波助澜之功。Brinton讲的主要是西方的几次革命,如果要看中国革命,Skocpol的书也很不错。把我写的读后感(主要是关于法国大革命)放在这儿,是希望能听到喜欢人文的朋友的高见。我的观点如我最后一句话所讲:革命恰如人体发的烧,是文明的噩梦。

Holy to Kill: Moral Imagination and Political Tragedy
--Rereading Brinton’s Narrative of the French Revolution

In Anatomy of Revolution, Brinton uncovers the tenacity of human beings’ religious complex clothed under their enlightened mentality and revolutionary claims, which is illustrated especially by his case study of the French Revolution. No matter how modern we look, how secular we try to be, as Brinton shows, we hold unexplainable religious zeal for moral imaginations of a perfect political system that will produce the most virtuous and wisest men. Such moral imagination, which usually plays a positive role in reflecting on the current reality, will lead to political tragedies once it exceeds the boundary of cultural critique to be revolutionary creeds. In the French Revolutions that sought to replace the existing system with a moral utopia, moral imagination became moral despotism, spiritual salvation became mental enslavement, and even the guillotine became “holy” (p.159).
Brinton displays the religious complex of the French revolutionists in the following four aspects:
First, like any religious belief, the French Revolution was based on a priori moral ideas rather than revolutionary experience. Many a revolutionary leader was no doubt “a good child of the Enlightenment” (p.115) in that they shared strong humanitarian concerns about human beings and society. Their discontent with the existing system came not necessarily from their economic conditions but from the “intolerable” (p.30) distance between what was and what they thought ought to/need be. Longing for Rousseau’s blueprint of a Republic of Virtue in which equality would replace injustice and poverty no longer would exist, the French revolutionists transformed his philosophical ideas into political actions. In other words, those revolutionists followed a personal god who had already distinguished truth from falsehood and told them what the heaven―the moral utopia―looked like.
Second, the revolutionists regarded the existing political system and those people who corrupted that system as sinners. Therefore, salvation means a thorough deconstruction and remaking of the whole system as the root of the evil, including its incompetent rulers. The revolutionists envisioned, out of the old system, a new political order that led people away from sin, from the Satan. They undertook the holy task to “spread the gospel of their revolution” (p.192) for the regeneration not only of France but also of mankind in general (p.90).
Third, the revolutionists displayed a “dual character” that we often see within most religious conservatives and extremists. On the one hand, they might be the most virtuous and disciplined human beings in the world, always willing “to work hard, to sacrifice their peace and security, to submit to discipline, to submerge their personalities in the group” (p.155). Robespierre, for example, gave up his judgeship when asked to inflict capital penalty in the pre-Revolutionary time. Moreover, these revolutionists shared common expectations on human behavior of high standards. On the other hand, however, these people with great personalities were among the most famous terror-producers in human history, never hesitant to send their enemies (pagans) or presumed enemies to the guillotine and never regretful to purge their own members. To rationalize such “judicial murders” (p.112), Robespierre announced publicly that those killed were merely evil souls instead of human beings such that the action of killing was a necessary way to clean the system. In so doing, our French revolutionists displayed a so-called “moral absolutism,” like a ruler (something used to measure length) with a rigid line on it. Above the line, there marked “revolutionary,” “heaven,” and maybe “living,” while under the line, there marked “counterrevolutionary,” “hell,” and “death.” No transitional part was allowed in between, no “relative or partial good” (p.160). The revolutionists used this ruler to measure people’s moral standards as well as their qualification to live in a moral utopia.
The last but not the least, the revolutionists derived their self-assertiveness from the self-attributed holiness of their faith. Because of the firm belief that what they were struggling for was the greatest cause for mankind, the revolutionists considered themselves superior to those little lives such that they were competent to represent their nation to make decisions and pursue goals “without regard for injured human dispositions” (p.154). They killed for their ideals, and they “fanatically” devoted themselves to eradicating the ordinary vices on their way to the imagined moral utopia. In a word, they were moral “crusaders” (p.191) who fought and slaughtered men for their love of man, peace, and liberty.
Finally, I would say that although describing the revolutionists as “fanatic,” “eccentric,” and “crazy,” Brinton by no means intends to scorn them. Rather, he puts the root of all these abnormal human behaviors during a revolutionary period in human nature. Our religious complex, no matter how deep it hides in our consciousness, leads to a shared dream among human beings of something perfect at the corner. As a result, it is common to see that humans seldom feel satisfied with the reality and would always like to imagine a better world in the future, which gives rise to a tension between imperfect reality and human ideals. Such a tension can be a motive for social development and progress, but if human imagination exceeds that tension to enforce systemic changes based solely on moral imaginations, we just put ourselves on the verge of craziness and self-destroy in that peace-seekers will become warlords, liberty-protectors will become despot, and humanitarians will become killers. Revolution in this sense is a fever of human body, and a nightmare of civilization.
最在乎的事 1/13/2007 23:06
那日和闾丘姐姐聊天,她很好,真的很好。像她这样敢说敢做的大记者,是非功过,一向只能任人评说。但闾丘姐姐从来没有过怒对千夫指,更没有过笑应万户捧,就连别人为她写的那么美的诗,她也是淡然处之,波澜不惊。

因为,闾丘姐姐说,在这个世界上,她只在乎一件事,那就是,她喜欢的人也喜欢她。这就是她生命价值的全部。至于采访出书,那只是一份工作,用以养活自己和年幼的女儿。

我想问问所有读这篇日记的朋友,你喜欢的人也喜欢你吗?你确定吗?

我们平常是不是太在乎别人对自己的看法,而忽略了身边最重要的人的感受?为什么作儿女的一定要等到能够衣锦还乡光宗耀祖的那一天,才想到回乡看望自己的爹娘?为什么做伴侣的一定要等到飞黄腾达之后,才愿意陪自己的爱人闲话家常?。。。。。。

我们的努力有时候是不是走错了方向?

我素来觉得自己是个不轻易被别人影响的人,但那天闾丘姐姐的话真的很有穿透力,如醍醐灌顶,有顿悟之感,当下便想到有些事应该马上去做了,而有些事可以永远不必去管。

做人不妨可以“自私”一下:我只在乎我喜欢的人也喜欢我。
第一个为我写诗的人,是我的初一语文老师兼班主任陈老师。
我是初一下学期从故乡古城转学到爸爸教书的省城,学校是大学附属中小学,班上大多数人从幼儿园起就一路同学过来,所以很排外。刚开始时我很孤单,又因为成绩太好,很被孤立。这些使我痛恨新的环境,也格外想念把我带大的邻居奶奶。
有一次陈老师让我们写一个家人,我就抹着眼泪写了篇题为《奶奶》的作文。记得那天放学后,陈老师来找我,手里拿着我的作文本,眼睛红红的,他说他刚批完,让我好好保存这篇作文,将来回去给奶奶看。
陈老师走后,我翻开作文本,发现篇尾陈老师用红笔题了首小诗:

依稀往事浮眼前,
拳拳挚情注笔尖。
展望未来灿烂景,
书山学海永登攀。

这就是我的小师毕业,刚满二十岁的陈老师,爱给我们讲汪国真、席慕容的大男孩,水平或许有限,但激情永远无限。我至今耳边还常常响起他喊我名字的声音,他总是笑嘻嘻地递给我一本书,让我有空再看。
初二时,学校给我们换了个水平较高有资格教初中,但毫无热情的语文老师,每天板着蜡黄的脸,有气无力地讲课。那一阵子,全班人都快疯了,我们没法适应这个彷佛从活死人墓里走出来的新班主任,我们无比想念浑身冒着热气的陈老师。
尽管如此,陈老师还是永远走出了我们班的教室,去教小学部了。后来在校园里常常碰见,他还是生龙活虎的样子,笑嘻嘻地跟我们聊天。
我高中时便开始住校,一直到出国就很少再见到陈老师。听妈妈说,每次碰见他,他都会问我的情况,然后告诉妈妈,我是他最喜欢的学生。
他也是我最喜欢的老师。我们的师生感情建立在彼此最纯真的时候,因而弥足珍贵。他那激情洋溢的教学风格一直深深地影响着我。我从大学开始教课,学生无数,出国后在学校也教大学生,我的学生对我评价褒贬不一,但都觉得我在讲台上,是个充满激情的人。
所以,我从来没有忘记过陈老师,虽然他只教过我半年,虽然如今我们所接受的教育程度已相隔甚远。
所以,如果有人问我,记忆中最清楚的诗是哪一首?我会说是这一首,一个从来没写过诗、只有小师程度的人写的,一个真心诚意的老师为鼓励他失落的学生写的。
当年的文学少年 1/12/2007 01:09
当年的文学少年,如今安在?
现在的文坛是80后和90后横行了,但我滥竽充数,混迹于各个少年文学“集中营”(夏令营)的时候,还是70年代生人在扛鼎。那年在北戴河,营里颇来了几个名声赫赫的文学少年,在登记处呼朋引伴一番热闹,令军威大振。
我因为学校的缘故,混了个小组长,也在登记处领书本。然后一回头,就看见老余。老余西北人,那年高三,已出过几本诗集,算是名满天下,割据一方,兼之人长得高大威猛,所以文友们又给他一雅号“西楚霸王”。
我和老余乍见面,自然是我认得他,他不认得我,所以我狠狠地愣了一下,然后抱着书,一路谦恭地回宿舍。
不料晚上熄灯前,老余来了,很领袖地挥挥手,示意一屋子穿着睡裙、惊慌失措的姑娘们各就各位,然后大喇喇地搬了张椅子,坐到我面前,问我是不是见过他。那时我要是看过周星驰的电影,一定会说:没有,但我对你的景仰如滔滔江水绵绵不绝(瞧,咱不但会抄张爱玲,还会抄周星星)。。。。。。
但那时我一个小姑娘,除了脸涨得通红,眼睛盯着地,便只会老实交代:没有。老余听了笑笑,未置可否,然后以一个前辈对后辈的关心,开始谈文学,谈人生,谈个人经历,直到我的眼皮打架才走。
老余是个很好的人,一个少见的大哥级的人物,在营里振臂一呼,往往应者无数。那一年的夏令营办得很成功,大家私下都认为是因为有老余在。那时的我常想,再过五年或十年,老余将会成为文坛怎样呼风唤雨的人物啊!
夏末开学时,老余来我的中学找我。他保送去厦大念作家班,在我住的那个城市转火车,就把行李扔在车站,打车来见我,因为我是他在这个城市的熟人。那天他穿的很整齐,就差没打领带,跟他在夏令营不修边幅的样子简直判若两人,让我惊诧之余忍不住想笑。
老余说,就是来看看我,没别的事。我们俩在楼下默默地站了几分钟,上课铃就响了。老余忙说,你去上课吧,我也该走了。然后我们道别。
再后来,收到老余的信,里面有在山海关玩时,他给我拍的照片。信写的很客气,也很周到,大意是很珍惜一起玩的时光云云。
老余大一没读完,就辍了学,回西北办了个地方小报,给中小学生看的作文选。那时我们早已断了联系。再见面时,我已上大三了,早已不看文学书籍而是每天忙着教成人英语,成了校内小富。我请老余去学校周边最豪华的饭店吃饭,老余请我去最媚俗的茶馆喝茶。我谈工作,老余谈钱,还算融洽。
我渐渐绝了和老余做朋友的意愿。看着老余,会想起许多文学少年的面孔,想起“集中营”里许多岁月,眼会发酸,心会发紧。
当年意气风发的文学少年,大多已消失于茫茫人海。他们的早熟即是他们的幼稚,他们的才华即是他们的缺陷,他们的多情敌不过岁月的无情。
但我也很庆幸曾经遇到过这样一群少年,热情洋溢,真诚开朗,爱说大话,把朋友看得很重,把钱财看得很轻,把未来看得很简单。也因为他们,我想我永远走不出少年的时光,就像一个人永远走不出他的初恋。
这个冬天很暖和,所以连我这样的懒丫头也出来活动了。脚踩在泥土上,很酥软,让我想起中学的操场。我那个中学很贵族,从老师到看门的大爷都一副清高样,我们做学生的平时都不敢带校徽,就怕让人觉得不谦虚。
学校要钱有钱,要人有人,唯一市侩的地方就是特爱攀亲拉校友。其中最倒霉就是巴金,老爷子都不会笑了,还整天被扯着拍照片,登在校刊上。其实巴金算不上最出名的一个,但谁叫他那时还活着呢。李四光早作了古,吴健雄也远在海外,够不着。所以校友会会长就认准了巴老,死缠着不放。
我其实对巴老的作品挺没感觉的,他那一代那一派的作家里,我就只喜欢看茅盾。那时候觉得巴老真可怜,文革给整得那么惨,文革后又被一帮攀亲的人缠着。后来看巴老80年代的随想录,他说:愿留在人们温暖的脚印里。
许多年了,巴老也已经去世了,作协也选出了新的主席,但还是常想起这句话。一个人要经历过多少磨难,才有这样低到尘埃里的心意?
在今天服慰的阳光里,又想起巴老的这句话,心里觉得很温暖。
愿巴老安息!
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