If You Give Me Three Days of Light: The Best Collection of Helen Keller

Chapter 14 My Life (12)
And imagine the sun, the vast sky and the birds in the forest,
natural harmony and order,

I also conform to the heaven and the earth.

It seems to me that since the beginning of human beings, each of us has been equipped with the experience of sensing various emotions deep in our hearts.In everyone's subconscious mind, there will be memories of green land and gurgling water. Even blindness and deafness cannot deprive humans of this gift from their ancestors.

We often refer to this inherited trait as a sixth sense—a spirituality that combines sight, hearing, and touch.

I have many "big tree friends" in Wrentham.One of them is a very magnificent oak tree, which is the pride of my heart.I took all my friends to admire the tree king.

Those who are well acquainted with trees will say that this tree, perched on a cliff overlooking King Philip's Pond, is at least eight or a thousand years old.Legend has it that King Philip, the heroic leader of the Indians, died under this tree.

I have another "tree friend", a linden tree that grows in the courtyard of the red farm.Compared with the stately oak tree, it appears quite easygoing and approachable.On a thunderstorm afternoon I felt as if the side of the house had been struck violently, and even though I hadn't been told, I guessed at once that the linden tree had been struck down by lightning.We went to see this hero tree that had withstood countless storms. It had gone through a fierce struggle and finally fell suddenly. It was really heartbreaking.

I will never forget that particular summer I am about to describe.As soon as my exam was over, Mrs. Sullivan and I hurried to this "green retreat".We have a little house on one of the three famous lakes in Wrantham.Here, a full day of sunshine is mine.All thoughts about college and studies, as well as the hustle and bustle of city life, are all dispelled by the deep beauty here.

Yet in Wrentham we can still hear the echoes of everything that is going on in the turbulent world - wars, alliances and social conflicts.We hear of the senseless and brutal wars and struggles of capitalists and laborers raging on the far side of the Pacific.

We also know that beyond the boundaries of our Eden, humans are sweating and making history, though they could have given themselves a vacation.But we seldom notice these things, and sooner or later, the world will pass before our eyes like a cloud; while here the lake and the woods, the daisy fields and the fresh-smelling meadows, continue their eternal life.

Those who think that human perception is conveyed by the eyes and ears will find it odd that I can tell the difference between walking a city street and a country lane.You know, country lanes are like city streets except they don't have pavement, but they forget that my whole body responds to my surroundings.

The noise and low rumble of the city often hit my facial nerves. I can feel the endless heavy footsteps of the invisible crowd, and the harsh noise erodes the tranquility of my heart little by little.Heavy wheels rumbled over the hard pavement, and the machine clanked dully.For those who have good eyes and ears and travel in the city all year round, if their attention is not diverted by the commotion of streets and chaotic scenes, I think they will be driven crazy by this monotonous noise.

In the countryside, what people see is the masterpiece of nature, what they hear is the sound of nature, and they don't have to worry about the cruel struggle for survival in the bustling city.Many times I have visited poor people who live in narrow, dirty streets.Thinking of social reality, those well-dressed upper-class people live contentedly in mansions; while those poor people live in dilapidated and dark apartments.Whenever I think of these things, I can hardly contain the anger in my heart.Little children are all crowded in these filthy alleys, naked and hungry; when you hold out your hands to them, they step back cowardly, as if blown away by a gust of wind.

These poor little lives, their figures are always lingering in my mind, making me constantly feel pain.And the men and women, equally scrawny and shapeless.I stroked their gnarled hands and felt that their existence was a never-ending struggle—constant scrimmage, defeat, and disappointment.

Between struggle and opportunity, their lives seem to be in a huge imbalance.We often say that sunlight and air are God's free gifts to all people, is that really the case?In the remote and dark streets and alleys of the city, the sun is gone and the air is filthy.O good people, how can you be so indifferent to your brothers and sisters?When you pray, "Thank you Lord for our bread today," and your brethren have nothing!Oh I wish people left the city

City, leave this splendor, noise, and luxury world, return to forests and fields, and live a simple life again! In this way, their children can grow like tall pine trees, and their thoughts can be like flowers on the roadside. Just as fragrant and pure.After a year in the city, it was impossible for me to return to the country without thinking deeply about what I had seen and heard.

What a joy it is to feel the soft, wet earth beneath your feet again.The grassy path leads you to the fern-filled brook where I can dip my fingers in the babbling water, or I can climb over a stone wall into the meadow and get carried away Roll and jump!

In addition to taking leisurely walks, I also like to ride around on my tandem bike.The cool wind was blowing, and the iron horse was jumping under the crotch, which was really pleasant.Riding against the wind makes people feel both lightness and joy of strength, which makes people feel relaxed and happy.

Whenever possible, my dog ​​walks, rides or sails with me.I have a lot of canine friends—huge mastiffs, spaniels with gentle, wide eyes, playful and clever setters and loyal, down-to-earth shorthairs.Currently, my favorite dog is a male Diarye.He's a purebred dog with a curly tail and a funny, cuddly face.These canine friends seem to understand my physical flaws, clinging to me when I'm alone.I love their affectionate look and expressive tail wag.

Whenever it rains and I'm stuck at home, I do what other girls do and find something fun to do.I like to crochet women's reds; I browse books in a carefree way, reading a line here and a line there; I can also play a game of checkers or chess with my friends.I have a special wooden chess board, the squares of which have been re-carved so that the pieces can stand firmly on it.The black pieces are flat and the white pieces are curved on top.Each piece has a hole in the middle for a copper pommel to distinguish the king from the other pieces.Chess pieces vary in size, the white ones being larger than the black ones, so that, after a move, I can run my hands over the board to learn about the opponent's strategy.Moving a piece from one square to another creates a vibration that lets me know when it's my turn to move.

If I happen to be alone and with nothing to do, I'll play a game of solitaire with gusto.Of course, the cards I use all have braille markings in the upper right corner to indicate the size of the card.

If there are children around, nothing gives me greater pleasure than playing with them.I've found that even the youngest children can be great companions and I'm proud to say they love playing with me.They would show me around and point out things they were interested in.Naturally, very young children can't spell with their fingers, but I can lip read them to make sense of what they say.Sometimes lip-reading fails to make sense of their words, and they resort to gestures.Sometimes I inevitably misunderstood what they meant, and when I did something wrong, they would roar with laughter, and the pantomime would have to start all over again.I also often tell them stories and teach them to play games. We have a good time together, and time slips away without knowing it.

Museums and art stores are another source of joy and inspiration for me.Many people find it difficult to understand - in front of a cold marble statue, it is possible to "see" its shape, emotion and artistic charm by touching it without relying on vision?The fact that I do derive supreme pleasure from touching great works of art is undeniable.As my fingertips explore the undulating lines, they will discover the thoughts and passions of the artist when they paint.I can feel their love and hatred and their heroic character from touching the faces of the statues of mythical heroes.Just as I can feel the emotion and character of a living person from the face of a living person I am allowed to touch, I can feel the beauty and freedom in the forest from the expression of the statue of Diana, and feel the kind that is strong enough to tame a lion and capable The spirit that suppresses the strongest desires.The serenity and grace of the statue of Venus filled my soul with joy.The bronze statue of Barre showed me the secrets of the jungle.

On the wall of my study hung a medallion of Homer, hung so low that I could reach out and touch Homer's graceful, sad face.The statue has a majestic countenance, and I know every line of the face--the trajectory of life, the bitterness and sorrow of struggle; in the cold gray stone, his blind eyes still for his beloved Greece Seek light and blue sky, but the result is always disappointment.The corner of the beautiful mouth is firm, faithful and soft.It is the face of a poet, a face of sorrow.Oh, how I understand his pain of blindness--with nothing but eternal night to accompany it:
O darkness, darkness, darkness, surrounded by the light of noon,
Irreversible darkness, covering the sky
Abandon all hope in the world!
I seem to hear Homer singing, stumbling and faltering, from camp to camp—singing life, singing love, singing war, singing the glorious deeds of a heroic people.The majestic and majestic song won the blind poet the immortal crown and the admiration of all ages.

I have also sometimes wondered whether the hand is really not as keen as the eye in perceiving the artistic beauty of a sculpture.I personally think that, compared with vision, the hand is more able to perceive the rhythm of sculpture lines and its inner subtle changes.Whether it is so or not, I can detect the emotional ups and downs of the ancient Greeks from the marble statues of Greek gods.

Another very special hobby of mine is going to the theater.The curtain opens and the drama unfolds on the stage-the enjoyment brought by the real plot is far beyond what reading the script can achieve, because the ups and downs of the storyline will make you feel like you are there.I have had the honor of meeting several famous actors whose acting skills are so superb that they can make you forget the present and transport you to romantic antiquity.Miss Ellen Terry is a great artist, and once, when she was playing one of our ideal queens, I was allowed to touch her face and dress; I could feel the gravitas she gave to the character The sense of sanctity, and the noble temperament that restrains endless sorrow.Standing beside her was Sir Henry Owen, who was wearing a robe symbolizing royal power, and his gestures and gestures revealed the majesty of the king; while the subtle royal majesty was engraved on every line of his face.On the king's face, I seemed to touch a mask, and that kind of indifferent and incomprehensible sadness was unforgettable for a lifetime.

I also knew Mr. Jefferson and was proud to have him as a friend.Whenever I go to a place, if he happens to be playing there, I always go to see him.The first time I saw him perform was when he was in school in New York when he was doing Rip Van Winkle.I've read the story before, but I never found Rip's slow, queer, friendly manner to be remarkable.And Mr. Jefferson's beautiful, moving and tragic performance immediately caught my heart.I "retain" a picture of "Old Rip" on my fingers, and I will never lose it.After the performance, Mrs. Sullivan took me backstage to see Mr. Jefferson, where I ran my hands over his strange costume, his smooth hair and beard.Mr. Jefferson let me touch his face so I could imagine what it must have been like when he came out of that unearthly 20-year sleep, and he showed me how poor old Rip shuddered Standing up majestically.

I also saw him act in Rivals.I remember visiting him once in Boston, and he performed the best parts of The Rival especially for me.The drawing room where we met was used as a makeshift stage, and he and his son sat at a large table while Bob Akers wrote his battle sheets.I touched his every movement with a full sense of the antics of his fuss that I would never have experienced if I had not seen him act but had someone else spell the story out to me.Then there was a duel to the death, the swords coming and going, and the swiftness, until poor Bob, flustered and lost.Then the great actor jerked off his shirt, his lips twitching uncontrollably.In an instant, I was in Falls and felt Schneider's shaggy head pressed against my knee.

Mr. Jefferson recited a wonderful line from "Rip Van Winkle," a touching episode of laughter and tears.He also gave me a detailed introduction to the stage performance experience that gestures and shapes should be in step.Of course, I don't know anything about dramatic action, so I had to say a few words based on guesswork; however, with his superb acting skills, he combined action and lines very well.A long sigh when Rip murmured, "Is a man left home so quickly forgotten," and after a long sleep he searched for his dog and his shotgun in a distraught state, and he The hesitation to sign a contract with Derek is also ridiculous - all of which seem to be divorced from the meaning of life itself.In other words, the ideal state of life should happen in the way we think it should happen.

I still vividly remember seeing the play for the first time.That was 12 years ago, but it seems like yesterday.The child actor Else Leslie was in Boston, and Miss Sullivan took me to see her play The Prince and the Pauper.I will never forget this touching little drama, especially the tragic and joyous plot and the wonderful performances of the child actors.After the show, I was allowed backstage to see her in royal attire.I gotta say, you'd be hard-pressed to find a kid as adorable as Leslie, especially when she's smiling and standing silently with a cloud of blond hair flowing down her shoulders. .She showed no signs of timidity or fatigue, despite the fact that she faced a large audience.At that time, I was just learning to speak. Before I came, I practiced saying her name repeatedly until I could say her full name clearly.I nearly jumped for joy when she caught my few words and immediately and cheerfully extended her hand to welcome me!
(End of this chapter)