作者：南太井哇
我八十歲了！
買了一部任天堂遊戲機作為自己的生日禮物。
可以說是童心未泯，也可能是早已厭倦了現世過於物化，缺乏想像與創造。才選擇進入遊戲天地，那裡沒有什麼不可能，樣樣都充滿夢幻與驚喜。
好奇心，使我始終保持一種兒時才有的天真。
天真才能無忌，才能看清世事有好有壞，敢於有好說好，有壞說壞。不至於人云亦云，被群體意識裹脅，失去個性与自我。
生日這一天，我總在想如何總結自己的一生。
所謂人生，其實就是一葉生命孤舟在歷史長河中泛游的「河船之旅」。
八十年歲月，瀏覽一河兩岸風光種種，歷盡寒暑晴雨，或波平如鏡，或風高浪急。富貴榮華、權力野心沒在迷濛煙雨中，誘人爭相求取，幾多舟覆人滅，轉眼成空。
無論我們生前有多少建樹與積累，一旦離舟登岸，就什麼也帶不走，只能站在岸上，說一聲：「這是一段多麼美好的旅程！此地景色甚好，正合適我！」
身後寂寥，惟留下一個空位，由他人來填補…….
八十歲意味著坐在船上的時間不短了，多看幾眼岸上的風景，多關愛一下同船之人。才不枉這一段美妙的旅行。
日本醫生田秀樹寫過一本名為《八十歲的牆》的書。
他把八十歲以上的老人稱作「幸齡者」，認為他們都有可能活到一百歲。
對於出生或生活在紐西蘭的人來說， 活到八十歲已成為一種「常態」而非「極端長壽」，紐西蘭大約一半以上的人口有機會跨越這個門檻，甚至成為許多人生命中的「基本起跑線」。
但是很多人可能不知道，實際上目前全球僅有 2% 的人口可以活到八十歲或以上。
躋身2%，也是一種值得感恩的幸運。
其實活得更長久不應該成為唯一的目標，怎樣活得有意義，活得快樂，活得健康更加重要。
很多人把生命視為一個過程，娶妻生子，成家立業，生老病死。人人如是，大同小異。年輕時候吃了很多苦，老了就多享一點福。至於怎麼樣活得有意義，很少人願意去面對。因為他們實在是不太明白，也無法去準確定義。
其實活得有意義與否，不在於我們得到多少，而在於我們經歷多少。
一生中每一段的經歷都是我們的人生財富。正是這些獨一無二的經歷，這些從不畏懼從不放棄的經歷，追求理想與自由的經歷，成為我們留給這個世界的東西。
八十年漫長歲月的經歷，或許能讓自己成為一種人類文明記憶的容器。因為我經歷了二十世紀中葉至今的所有動盪與變遷。這些動盪與變遷的驚心動魄与殘酷，時間之長，烈度之劇，傷害之深，是年輕人所無法想像的。
在這種動盪與變遷中生存下來是一回事，如何將自己的經歷轉化成光明最後一定戰勝黑暗的信心與理念，又是另一回事。大苦大難，造就的應該是大慈大悲、大徹大悟，而不是大奸大惡。如是方能不枉劫後餘生，活出新生命。
我生命的小船從中國的山海關出發，穿越到大半個地球來到南太平洋，最終抵達上帝的後花園紐西蘭。
如今，「河船之旅」依然每天繼續，我的思想遠離塵囂，靜靜徘徊在社會的邊緣，默默看著世人為了過去和現在的事爭吵、互毆甚至殺戮。許多人似乎忘記了人性中的至善與愛還有憐憫，我一直在提醒自己，用自己的眼睛與心靈去觀察與感受世界，而不是由小小手機裡被動的接受他人餵養的爆炸資訊，在焦躁、狂熱與偏執中迷失自己。
我的小船已進入另一個天地，那不是旅程的終點，而是剛剛開始。
我將繼續寫文章、畫畫、游泳、享受与研究美食、思考人生、熱愛自然、關心世界……
英國詩人Robert Brownin 的詩句，此刻恰好充作我餘生的箴言：
「和我一起慢慢變老吧，人生最美好的部分，還在前方。」
My Riverboat Journey
I am eighty years old now.
I bought myself a Nintendo game console as a birthday present.
You could say it’s because I still have a childlike heart, or perhaps because I have long grown weary of a world that is overly materialized, lacking imagination and creativity. So I chose to enter the realm of games—where nothing is impossible, and everything is filled with wonder and surprise.
Curiosity has allowed me to preserve a kind of innocence that only children possess.
Innocence frees one from fear; it allows one to see clearly that the world contains both good and evil, and to speak honestly about both. It prevents one from blindly following the crowd, being swept away by collective consciousness, and losing individuality and selfhood.
On my birthday, I always think about how to summarize my life.
What we call “life” is, in truth, a solitary leaf-like boat drifting along the long river of history—a riverboat journey.
Over eighty years, I have viewed countless scenes along both banks of the river, endured cold and heat, sunshine and rain; sometimes the waters were calm as a mirror, sometimes the winds were high and the waves fierce. Wealth, glory, and the ambitions of power all fade into the misty rain, tempting people to chase after them—many boats capsized, many lives perished, and in the blink of an eye, everything turned to emptiness.
No matter how much we accomplish or accumulate in life, once we leave the boat and step ashore, we take nothing with us. We can only stand on the riverbank and say:
“What a beautiful journey this has been! This place is lovely—perfect for me.”
Behind us lies silence, leaving only an empty seat for someone else to fill…
Turning eighty means I have spent no short time on this boat. I should look a little longer at the scenery on the shore, care a little more for those who share the boat with me—only then is this wonderful journey not wasted.
Japanese physician Hideki Tanaka once wrote a book titled The Wall of Eighty.
He calls people over eighty “fortunate-age individuals,” believing many of them may live to one hundred.
For those born or living in New Zealand, reaching eighty has become a norm, not an extreme longevity. More than half of New Zealand’s population has the chance to cross this threshold; for many, it is even the “basic starting line” of life.
But many may not know that, in reality, only 2% of the world’s population today can live to eighty or beyond.
To be among that 2% is a blessing worth gratitude.
In truth, living longer should not be the only goal.
Living meaningfully, joyfully, and healthily is far more important.
Many people see life as a process: marrying, raising children, building a career, aging, dying. Everyone follows similar patterns. They suffer much when young and enjoy more comfort when old. As for how to live meaningfully, few are willing to face the question—because they do not truly understand it, nor can they define it precisely.
But whether life is meaningful does not depend on how much we gain, but on how much we experience.
Every segment of our life is a form of wealth.
It is these unique experiences—these moments of never fearing, never giving up, pursuing ideals and freedom—that become what we leave behind for the world.
The long eighty-year journey may allow me to become a vessel of human civilizational memory. I have lived through all the upheavals and transformations from the mid-twentieth century to today. The intensity, duration, and depth of these upheavals—their shock and cruelty—are beyond what young people can imagine.
Surviving such turmoil is one thing; transforming one’s experiences into a conviction that light will ultimately triumph over darkness is another. Great suffering should give rise to great compassion and great understanding—not great wickedness. Only then does one not waste the life that remains after catastrophe, and truly live anew.
My little boat of life set out from Shanhaiguan in China, crossed half the globe to the South Pacific, and finally arrived in God’s backyard—New Zealand.
Today, my riverboat journey continues every day.
My thoughts drift far from the noise of the world, quietly lingering at the margins of society, watching people quarrel, fight, and even kill over matters of the past and present. Many seem to have forgotten the goodness, love, and compassion inherent in human nature. I constantly remind myself to observe and feel the world with my own eyes and heart, rather than passively accepting the explosive information fed through a tiny mobile phone—information that leads people into anxiety, frenzy, and obsession, causing them to lose themselves.
My little boat has entered another realm—not the end of the journey, but a new beginning.
I will continue writing, painting, swimming, enjoying and studying food, contemplating life, loving nature, and caring about the world…
At this moment, a line by the English poet Robert Browning perfectly serves as the motto for the rest of my life:
“Grow old along with me; the best is yet to be.”
分类： 澳纽资讯
(即时多来源) 新西兰英语新闻 New Zealand English News
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