回歸童真

袁堂欣

Sarah came running in， “Look what I found.” Over the top of the paper I was reading came a crispy， crumbling long object that caused me to jump. It was a snake skin that had been shed by one of our many garden snakes.

“Isnt it beautiful？” said my wide-eyed seven-year-old. I stared at the organic wrapper and thought to myself that it was not really that beautiful， but I have learned never to appear nonchalant or jaded with children. They see only merit and excellence in the world until educated otherwise.

“Why does it do this？” Sarah asked. “Snakes shed their skin because they need to renew themselves，” I explained. “Why do they need to renew themselves？” Sarah asked. I suddenly remembered an article on this page many years ago where the writer was expressing her concept of renewal. She used layers of paper over a wall to describe how we hide our original selves， and said that by peeling away those layers one by one， we see the underlying original beneath.

“We often need to shed our skins， those coatings and facades that we cover ourselves with，” I said to my now absorbed daughter. “We outgrow some things and find other stuff unwanted or unnecessary. This snake no longer needs this skin. It is probably too stiff and crinkly for him， and he probably doesnt think he looks as smart in it as he once did.” As we talked， I knew that she began to comprehend， albeit slightly， that we need to take a good look at ourselves， and see what we need to keep and what we need to cast off.

I hoped she would remember this. That often， in order to find our real selves underneath the layers of community and culture with which we cloak ourselves year after year， we need to start examining these layers. We need to gently peel some away， as we recognize them to be worthless， unnecessary， or flawed； or at best， store the discarded ones as mementoes of our promotion to a better vitality or spirit.

薩拉跑進(jìn)來(lái)：“看我發(fā)現(xiàn)了什么?！蔽艺诳磮?bào)，一條長(zhǎng)長(zhǎng)的有些破爛的東西出現(xiàn)在報(bào)紙上方，把我嚇得跳了起來(lái)。是一條蛇蛻的皮，我們的花園里有很多蛇。

“它難道不漂亮嗎？”我那七歲的小女兒眨巴著大眼睛問(wèn)道。我盯著那條蛇皮，自忖它實(shí)在算不上漂亮，但我知道決不能對(duì)孩子冷淡抑或厭煩。孩子們?cè)诮邮芟嚓P(guān)教育之前，他們只會(huì)看到世上事物的美好一面。

薩拉問(wèn)：“蛇為什么要蛻皮？”我解釋說(shuō)：“蛇因?yàn)橐@得新生，所以才蛻皮。”薩拉問(wèn)：“蛇為什么要獲得新生？”我忽然記起許多年前報(bào)上的一篇文章，作者表述了她對(duì)新生的看法。她用糊在墻上的一層層的紙來(lái)形容我們?nèi)绾螌⒄鎸?shí)的自我隱藏起來(lái)，一層層地剝?nèi)ツ切┘?，我們便?huì)發(fā)現(xiàn)藏在紙下面的純真。

我告訴此時(shí)全神貫注的女兒：“我們常常要‘蛻皮，更換我們穿的衣服或外在的裝扮。我們長(zhǎng)大了，有些東西不想要了，有些不需要了。這條蛇不再需要這張皮了。可能是它覺(jué)得這張皮又硬又皺，在身上不像以前那么漂亮?！闭勗掗g，我知道盡管薩拉似懂非懂，但理解到我們需要好好審視自我，想想要留下什么，摒棄什么。

我希望她能記住這個(gè)。為了找尋年復(fù)一年被社會(huì)和環(huán)境所掩蓋的真實(shí)的自我，我們需要審視這一層層的紙，一旦認(rèn)識(shí)到它們毫無(wú)價(jià)值，不再需要或者有缺陷，需要輕輕剝?nèi)ヒ恍詈檬菍⒛切┥釛壍臇|西塵封起來(lái)，作為激勵(lì)我們更加活力四射、更加精神飽滿地前進(jìn)的紀(jì)念品。endprint