Autumntime
① I saw my first tree today. Dad finally broke down and took us to East Boston Urban Center after Mom had been harping on it for the past two weeks. I think he was glad we went after all because he was smiling quietly all during the trip back.
② Dad used to tell me stories about the trees that still existed when he was a boy. There weren’t very many even then, with the urbanization program in full swing, but most people had seen at least one tree by the time they started school. It wasn’t like nowadays, at any rate. Oh, I’ve seen the plastic trees; practically every street has a few of them. But you can tell the plastic ones are artificial just from looking at pictures in the microdot library.
③ This morning when we got up, the house was all excited. Mom dialed a light breakfast of toast and synthetic milk so that we wouldn’t waste time eating. And when finished, the three of us took an elevator bus up to the fourth level, where we caught the air track to Brooklyn. From there we took another elevator bus down to the main level, rode the monorail to Intercity Subway Station 27, and caught the second sublevel AA train to Boston. Our expectations were so high that Dad and I didn’t mind it when Mom told us again how the tree was discovered.
④ The O’Brien home was one of the few examples of old—style wooden structures that hadn’t been pulled down in Boston’s urban—renewal campaign at the turn of the century. The family had been able to avoid this because of its wealth and political influence, and the house was passed on through several generations to the present. Old man O’Brien had no heirs, so when he died, the family home went up for auction (拍卖), and the Urban Center bought it. When local officials arrived for an appraisal, they discovered that the house had a backyard, which is forbidden by zoning restrictions.
⑤ In the yard was a live tree—an oke was what Mom called it. When the news of the tree’s discovery leaked out, quite a few sightseers stopped by to have a look at it, and the local government, realizing the money—making potential, began charging admission fees and advertising the place. By now it had become a favorite spot for school field trips and family excursions such as ours.
⑥ When we arrived in main Boston we rode the elevator bus up to ground level and caught a monorail out to East Boston Urban Center. An air—cush taxi took us the rest of the way to the place.
⑦ The home itself was unimpressive. It had none of the marble gloss or steely sheen of modern buildings, but was rather a dull white color, with the paint peeling in places. Dad paid the admission fee, and we spent the next 15 minutes on a dull guided tour of the house. ‘The rooms were roped off to keep people from touching anything, but there were no windows facing the illegal backyard anyway, so it really didn’t matter that I couldn’t enter the rooms on that side.
⑧ My mind was on the tree, and I thought the inside tour would never end, but soon we were walking through a doorway hidden in one of the bookshelves and into the backyard. The yard was big—at least 10 by 20 feet, and I was surprised to find real grass growing on the sides of the concrete walkway built for tourists. The grass didn’t distract me for long, however, because I just couldn’t help noticing the tree!
⑨ It was located at one end of the yard, and there was a mesh fence around it for protection. It was similar in form to the plastic trees I’d seen, but there was much more to it than that. You could see details more intricate than in any artificial plant. And it was alive. Long ago someone had carved their initials in the bark, and you could see where the wound had healed. But best of all was the smell. It was a fresh, living odor, alien to the antiseptic world outside with all its metal, plastic, and glass. I wanted to touch the bark, but the fence prevented me from doing so. Mom and Dad just breathed deeply and stared up with smiles on their faces. The three of us stood there for a moment, and then the tour guide told us to make room for the next group. I didn’t want to go—in fact, I felt almost like crying.
⑩ On the way back home, Mom and Dad were silent, and I read through one of the brochures the guide had passed out. When I came to the part that said the O’Brien home would be open only for the rest of this year, I was sad. They intend to tear down the place to make room for some kind of insurance building, and the tree will have to go, too. For the rest of the trip, I just sat still, fingering the object in my pocket that I had picked off the grass in the O’Brien’s backyard. I think it’s called an acorn (橡子).
【小题1】According to the passage, the O’Brien home was not destroyed at the turn of the century because ________.A.a secret passageway was found in the library |
B.the family had wealth and political influence |
C.a tree was found in the backyard of the home |
D.the home had historical and architectural value |
A.It is the oldest known tree in the city. |
B.It belonged to a family with privileges. |
C.“Oke” trees are an especially rare species. |
D.There are very few real trees remaining. |
A.The narrator is excited by nature, but not deeply affected by it. |
B.The narrator is impressed with the beauty of nature. |
C.The narrator prefers the world of steel to the world of nature. |
D.The narrator is unaccustomed to nature and tries to keep a distance. |
A.Technological progress and urbanization come at a cost. |
B.Economic profits overweigh environmental protection. |
C.There is no point in preserving nature in the urbanization process. |
D.Nature is resilient and there’s no need to worry about it. |
We live in a material world whose main quality is inertia (惯性), which is also one of our main qualities. Our physical bodies, as well as our personalities, naturally obey the law of inertia—we’re lazy, more or less.
When there is nothing to push us forward, as pain does, we can sink deep into the quicksand of slackness (懒散). It’s our nature and we must not blame ourselves for that. As a consequence, a painful experience arising from that quicksand of our inactivity pushes us ahead. Thanks to these shocks and injuries, we have gained depth of personality. Therefore, our wounds are blessings, too.
However, those painful experiences can leave deep scars in our mind. They inevitably influence our whole life in defeating and limiting ways. They produce negative beliefs, bad habits, wrong decisions, painful emotions, and so on. Although they have enabled us to mature and grow up, it’s obvious that we have to restore them.
The source of our pain is our attachment to countless experiences. Our attachments can be positive or negative, i. e. those experiences that we want to have, or those that we try to avoid. When we cannot gain what we need, or when we cannot avoid what we fear, we suffer. Painful life experiences usually gather within our mind into numerous aspects of personality, such as limiting beliefs, bad decisions, basic negative emotions and so on. They all have huge impact on our lives.
There are only two paths ahead of us: either we will continue to gain the depth of our being through suffering, or we will continue with our growth by dealing with suffering. The latter is much more pleasurable, faster and effective. But it still requires effort and continual work. The decision is up to us only.
【小题1】When we are in the quicksand of slackness, what can push us forward?A.Our nature. | B.Our slackness. |
C.Our complaints. | D.Painful experiences. |
A.Accidentally. | B.Unavoidably. |
C.Positively. | D.Completely. |
A.The roots of pain. | B.The meaning of pain. |
C.The positive function of pain. | D.The ways to deal with painful experiences. |
On a cold January afternoon in 1989,I was hiking up the trail that leads to the top of Egypt’s Mt. Horeb. I’d spent the day at St. Catherine’s Monastery and wanted to get to the peak by sunset to see the valley below. As I was winding up the narrow path,I’d occasionally see other hikers who were coming down from a day on the mountain. While they would generally pass with simply a nod or a greeting in another language,there was one man that day who did neither.
I saw him coming from the last switchback on the trail that led to the backside of the mountain. As he got closer,I could see that he was dressed differently from the other hikers I’d seen. Rather than the high-tech fabrics and styles that had been the norm,this man was wearing traditional Egyptian clothing. He wore a tattered, rust-colored galabia and obviously old and thick-soled sandals that were covered in dust. What made his appearance so odd,though,was that the man didn’t even appear to be Egyptian! He was a small-framed Asian man, had very little hair,and was wearing round,wire-rimmed glasses.
As we neared one another,I was the first to speak.“Hello,”I said,stopping on the trail for a moment to catch my breath. Not a sound came from the man as he walked closer. I thought that maybe he hadn’t heard me or the wind had carried my voice away from him in another direction. Suddenly he stopped directly in front of me on the high side of the trail, looked up from the ground, and spoke a single sentence to me in English,“Sometimes you don’t know what you have lost until you’ve lost it.”As I took in what I had just heard,he simply stepped around me and continued his descent down the trail.
That moment in my life was a small miracle. The reason is less about what the man said and more about the timing and the context. The year was 1989,and the Cold War was drawing to a close. What the man on the trail couldn’t have known is that it was during my Egyptian pilgrimage, and specifically during my hike to the top of Moses’s mountain,that I’d set the time aside to make decisions that would affect my career in the defense industry,my friends,my family,and,ultimately,my life.
I had to ask myself what the chances were of an Asian man dressed in an Egyptian galabia coming down from the top of this historic mountain just when I was walking up,stopping before me,and offering his wisdom,seemingly from out of nowhere. My answer to my own question was easy: the odds were slim to none! In an encounter that lasted less than two minutes on a mountain halfway around the world from my home, a total stranger had brought clarity, and the hint of a warning, regarding the huge changes that I would make within a matter of days. In my way of thinking,that’s a miracle.
I suspect that we all experience small miracles in our lives every day. Sometimes we have the wisdom and the courage to recognize them for what they are. In the moments when we don’t,that’s okay as well. It seems that our miracles have a way of coming back to us again and again. And each time they do,they become a little less subtle ,until we can’t possibly miss the message that they bring to our lives!
The key is that they’re everywhere and occur every day for different reasons, in response to the different needs that we may have in the moment. Our job may be less about questioning the extraordinary things that happen in our daily lives and more about accepting the gifts they bring.
【小题1】Why did the author make a pilgrimage to Mt. Horeb in Egypt?
A.He was in search of a miracle in his life. |
B.It was a holy place for a religious person to head for. |
C.He intended to make arrangements for his life in the future. |
D.He waited patiently in expectation of meeting a wise person. |
A.For what reason did the man stop before me? |
B.Why did the Asian man go to the mountain? |
C.What change would I make within a matter of days? |
D.What was the probability that others told us the right words? |
A.Apparent. | B.Delicate. |
C.Precise. | D.Sufficient. |
A.the Asian man’s appearance had a deciding effect on his future life |
B.his words were in perfect response to the need he had at that moment |
C.what the Asian man said was abundant in the philosophy of life |
D.the Asian man impressed on him the worth of what he had possessed |
A.Can you recognize a miracle? |
B.Is a miracle significant to us? |
C.When might a miracle occur? |
D.Why do we need a miracle? |
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