（一）養(yǎng)好你的靜氣
靜氣，是一種氣質(zhì)，一種修養(yǎng)，一種境界；不是放棄，不是觀望，不是無奈，不是等待，而是一種積極平和的心態(tài)，是冷靜觀察刻苦思索的過程，是鎮(zhèn)定自如沉著應(yīng)對(duì)的意志，是從容不迫永不言敗的信念。
在當(dāng)今市場(chǎng)經(jīng)濟(jì)和環(huán)境中，激烈的競(jìng)爭(zhēng)，快節(jié)奏的生活，紛繁復(fù)雜的社會(huì)現(xiàn)象、強(qiáng)烈追求物質(zhì)生活的欲望給人們?cè)黾恿藷o形的壓力，使一些人的心態(tài)浮躁得宛若湯煮，身上或多或少充斥著匠氣、俗氣、躁氣，心煩意亂者有之，神不守舍者有之，著急上火者有之．．．．．．歸根結(jié)底就是缺少一此靜氣。
寧靜才能致遠(yuǎn)，平心才能靜氣，靜氣才能干事，干事才能成事。涵養(yǎng)靜氣的過程，就是在追求一種平衡，營(yíng)造一種和諧，積蓄一種底蘊(yùn)，成就一種境界。
胸懷靜氣——才能保持清醒頭腦，深謀遠(yuǎn)慮，鑒天地之精微，察萬物之規(guī)律；
胸懷靜氣——才能真正淡泊名利，心態(tài)平衡，不為進(jìn)退滋擾，寵辱泰然不驚；
胸懷靜氣——才能做到志存高遠(yuǎn)，心憂天下，不為成績(jī)驕傲，不為挫折沮喪；
胸懷靜氣——才能把握心理健康，明白事理，可以知榮明辱，可以心無旁騖；
胸懷靜氣——才能勇于不計(jì)名利，追求卓越，高不孤方自賞，低不自抱自棄；
養(yǎng)一點(diǎn)靜氣，我們遇事時(shí)從容不迫，舉重若輕；養(yǎng)一點(diǎn)靜氣我們無事平和超越自我。不歪不斜、不驕不躁、不卑不亢、不偏不倚、雜氣自去，靜氣自來。
浩然處世，靜氣養(yǎng)身，在平凡的生命歷程中發(fā)掘真我，為平庸的日子增添一抹亮色。
靜氣，是一種氣質(zhì)，一種修養(yǎng)，一種境界，也是東方智慧之一。諸葛亮給他兒子寫信說：“夫君子之行，靜以修身，儉以養(yǎng)德，非淡泊無以明志，非寧靜無以致遠(yuǎn)。夫?qū)W，須靜也；才，須學(xué)也。非學(xué)無以廣才，非志無以成學(xué)?！边@是諸葛亮一生的體會(huì)。細(xì)細(xì)品味，"靜氣"說起來容易，做起來難.
“每臨大事有靜氣，不信今時(shí)無古賢”的句子，原是出自晚清風(fēng)云人物翁同和的一幅對(duì)聯(lián)。 這幅對(duì)聯(lián)要告訴人們的道理是，自古以來的賢圣之人，也都是大氣之人，越是遇到驚天動(dòng)地之事，越能心靜如水，沉著應(yīng)對(duì).靜氣是一種應(yīng)急的態(tài)度。也就是說在重大事件發(fā)生時(shí)，不是緊張慌亂，自亂陣腳，而是情急智生或從容應(yīng)對(duì)，所以說,靜氣是一種主觀性極強(qiáng)的態(tài)度,在生活中，有許多人總是為別人的評(píng)價(jià)而生活，在被動(dòng)中死要面子活受罪,而有的人則不然，依然我行我素，走自己選擇的路，這樣的人則最能成功，一位著名畫家說：″寵辱不驚，看亭前花開花落。去留無意，望天上云卷云抒″。這就是一種處世態(tài)度所產(chǎn)生的人生境界了，雖然這種境界很難達(dá)到，但是，在失意和迷茫時(shí)細(xì)細(xì)品味，會(huì)豁然開朗的。
凡大事面前有靜氣者，反映出他修煉道行的深邃，大事且能以靜制動(dòng)，小事更是拿得起放得下，靜氣決不是柔弱，比如韓信胯下之辱，看客們無不哈哈大笑或?yàn)橹Q不平，而韓信卻無所謂，這是多么大的氣度。
（二）冥想是永無止境的運(yùn)動(dòng)
Meditation is a never ending movement. You can never say that you are meditating or set aside a period for meditation. It isn't at your command. Its benediction doesn't come to you because you lead a systematized life or follow a particular routine or morality. It comes only when your heart is really open. Not opened by the key of thought, not made safe by the intellect, but when it is as open as the skies without a cloud; then it comes without your knowing, without your invitation.
冥想是永無止境的運(yùn)動(dòng)。你永遠(yuǎn)不能說你在冥想或者留出一段時(shí)間來冥想。它不受你控制。因?yàn)槟氵^著系統(tǒng)化的生活或者遵循特定的一套例行公事或道德體系，所以它的至福不會(huì)來到你身邊。只有當(dāng)你的心真正開放的時(shí)候，它才會(huì)來臨。不是被思想的鑰匙打開，也不是因?yàn)橹橇ψ兊冒踩?，而是?dāng)心像無云的天空一樣開闊時(shí)，它就會(huì)在你毫不知曉之時(shí)不約而至。
But you can never guard it, keep it, worship it. If you try, it will never come again: do what you will, it will avoid you. In meditation, you are not important, you have no place in it; the beauty of it is not you, but in itself. And to this you can add nothing. Don't look out of the window hoping to catch it unawares, or sit in a darkened room waiting for it; it comes only when you are not there at all, and its bliss has no continuity.
但是你永遠(yuǎn)無法守衛(wèi)他、保持它、膜拜它。如果你試圖這么做，它就再也不會(huì)來臨：無論你做什么，它都會(huì)避開你。在冥想中，你并不重要，你在其中無一席之地；它的美并不是你的，而是在它自身之中。而對(duì)此你什么也添加不了。不要望向窗外，希望能不經(jīng)意地捕捉到它，或者坐在黑暗的房間里等它；只有當(dāng)你根本就不在時(shí)，它才會(huì)來臨，而它的極樂沒有延續(xù)性。
The mountains looked down on the endless blue sea, stretching out for miles. The hills were almost barren, sunburned, with small bushes, and in their folds there were trees, sunburned and fire-burned, but they were still there, flourishing and very quiet. There was one tree especially, an enormous old oak, that seemed to dominate all the hills around it. And on the top of another hill there was a dead tree, burnt by fire; there it stood naked, grey, without a single leaf.
延伸數(shù)英里的群山俯瞰著無盡的蔚藍(lán)大海。這些山幾乎光禿禿一片，在烈日下灼曬著，有些小的灌木叢，在它們的山坳里有些樹林，被太陽曬過也被火燒過，但是它們依然在那里，茂密地生長(zhǎng)著，也很安靜。有一棵樹很特別，一棵巨大的老橡樹，它似乎統(tǒng)治著周圍的所有山丘。而另一座山的山頂上，有棵枯樹，被火燒過了；它赤裸裸地站在那兒，灰灰的沒有一片樹葉。
When you looked at those mountains, at their beauty and their lines against the blue sky, this tree alone was seen to hold the sky. It had many branches, all dead, and it would never feel the spring again. Yet it was intensely alive with grace and beauty; you felt you were part of it, alone with nothing to lean on, without time. It seemed it would be there for ever, like that big oak in the valley too. One was living and the other was dead, and both were the only things that mattered among these hills, sunburnt, scorched by the fire, waiting for the winter rains. You saw the whole of life, including your own life, in those two trees - one living, one dead. And love lay in between, sheltered, unseen, undemanding.
當(dāng)你看著那些山脈，看著它們的美和它們映襯在藍(lán)天下的線條，單獨(dú)的這一棵樹看起來好像包容了整個(gè)天空。它有很多枝條，都枯死了，它再也感受不到春天。然而它卻依然帶著優(yōu)雅和美活力四射地存在著；你感覺到自己是它的一部分，無所依靠地獨(dú)自站在那里，超越了時(shí)間。它似乎永遠(yuǎn)都會(huì)在那里，就像山谷里那棵老橡樹一樣。一棵還活著，另一棵枯死了，而它們是被烈日和山火炙烤過、正等待著冬雨來臨的這群山中唯一重要的東西。你在那兩棵樹身上——一棵活著，一顆死了，看到了整個(gè)生命，包括你自己的生命。而愛就在生死之間，隱蔽著未被發(fā)現(xiàn)，又輕而易舉。
The Only Revolution, California, Part2
《唯一的革命》 加利福尼亞 第二篇
