"Philosophy is practicing death."
—Socrates
“ 哲学就是练习死亡 ” ——苏格拉底
The film The Life of Gore says we face death in five stages.
电影《戈尔的一生》里提到，人面对死亡有五个阶段。
First Anger: "No, I don't want to die! Why me?" Then Denial: "This isn't real, it can't be." Next, Bargaining: "God, save me—someone save me!" Then Depression: "No one can save me, I've been abandoned." Finally, Acceptance: "Fine, I'll die. It had to happen someday."
先是愤怒：“不，我不想死！凭什么！”。然后是否定：“这不是真的，这肯定不是”。接着是祈祷：“上天，救救我，谁来救救我！”。后来是沮丧：“没人救得了我，我已经被抛弃了”。最后是接受：“哎，死就死了吧，总会有这天。”
When I practice death, I skip the anger, denial, and bargaining. What comes is raw fear and deep sadness.
在死亡练习里，我没有经历过愤怒、否定、祈祷，而是恐惧和悲伤。
My heart races, jaws clench, body tenses, and cold sweat breaks out on my soles—like a prisoner waiting for the fatal jolt in the electric chair. Scenes from my life flash by at high speed, and sadness wells up, swirling in my chest.
我的心跳加速，牙关咬紧身体紧绷，脚底冒冷，与电击椅上临近致命一击的死囚别无二样。生前的景象，极速闪现，此时悲伤泛起，在胸膛里打转。
Facing death feels like facing infinite void: no movement, no exchange, trapped forever. Some astronauts, looking down on Earth from space, feel a suffocating oppression.
面对死亡，就像面对无限的虚空，不能活动，不能交流，死死地困在里面。据说，有些宇航员，在太空中俯瞰地球，会感到窒息的压抑。
You don't need the blackness of space for that. One afternoon at four, driving west in December, the sun is gentle and refined. Its soft light warms me, but also makes me sad—no less than the thought of dying. The past keeps surfacing, as if saying goodbye.
有时不需要待在漆黑的空间内。下午四点，我开车向西走，十二月的太阳一副温文尔雅。柔和的光，令我温暖。但也令我忧伤，程度不亚于将要死去。过去在不断浮现，仿佛在告别。
Every day of life is different. It looks like repetition, but pay attention and you see the constant, tiny changes: the table aging, dust falling from the walls, elders growing old, the young shooting up, me no longer young, someone leaving, someone arriving.
生活的每一天都是不一样的。看似日复一日地重复，只要稍加细致去观察，便可发现变化：桌子在老化，墙壁会掉灰，上一辈老去，晚辈还在长高，我不再年轻，有人准备离开，有人正在来的路上。
Tiny, slow changes never stop, creeping toward the tipping point until they cross it and hit you with a shock.
缓慢的小变从不停息，一点点逼近大变的临界点，直到越过，给你震惊一击。
Where you were born, what clothes you wore, who you spent your life with, what you achieved, whether you lived ten years or a hundred, whether the Earth is round or flat, whether God is dead—none of it matters.
你出生在哪，穿什么衣服，坐过什么位置，和谁共度一生，取得什么成就，活了十年还是一百年，地球是圆的还是方的，上帝死了没有，不重要。
None of it matters, yet all of it makes up life itself. Sometimes I think the meaning of life lies in the soul. But life flows through the soul, and then the soul vanishes while the world keeps flowing.
一切，不重要却构成生活本身。有时，我以为生活的真谛在心灵上。可是生活流经心灵，最终心灵消失了，世界还在流动。
I feel sad, I cry, I find a corner to weep quietly, unsure if I'm mourning the loss of my soul, my own fleeting existence, or the absolute predicament of all beings.
我悲伤，流泪，找一个角落暗暗红眼，甚至搞不清是为无法保全我的心灵，为自身转瞬即逝的存在，还是芸芸众生的绝对困境。
I've done this exercise more than once—facing death, facing my life. I haven't found any path to salvation, and I probably never will.
我不止一次做这样的练习，面对死亡，面对自己的生命。我没有收获救赎之道，想必也不会得到。
Everything slips through your fingers. The only way is to let the heart feel the flow. I comfort myself that this half-baked answer is pretty good after all.
一切是抓不住的，唯一的方式，就是心灵感受流动。我安慰自己，这半吊子的答案也是极好的。
And it is because that's exactly what I'm already doing.
可不是嘛，毕竟我已经这样做了。