By+Bernd+Brunner

在這個忙碌的時代，享受休閑時光成了一種奢侈，甚至連睡覺都只是成了一種需要。隨之而來的，就是很多休閑形式的消失，比如躺臥?，F(xiàn)如今，這種放松的形式會被認(rèn)為是懶惰的表現(xiàn)。其實，躺臥可謂一門藝術(shù)，自古有之，它不僅能帶給人身體上的放松，更能讓人的思維在想象的世界中自由馳騁。

The legendary Roman dining couch， known as the klinai1）， was made from wood or stone， covered with cloth， and designed for lying down. I sometimes wonder how comfortable it really was. Then again， since people 2，000 years ago werent acquainted with comfort in the modern， well-cushioned sense， they probably enjoyed it much more than we would today. The klinai was perfectly adequate for the purpose of munching grapes， drinking wine， exchanging philosophical opinions， and meeting potential lovers.

As a sophisticated art form， however， lying down was perfected much later. Take the divan2）. The word means different things under different circumstances： A Turkish divan consists of a mat on the floor or a flat ledge that can run along an entire wall. In a French boudoir3）， a divan means an upholstered4） bench， often decorated with tassels5） and fringe6）， in the middle of the room. The term can even be used for a row of chairs clustered around a raised platform. Ultimately， divans and couches came to be associated with a kind of literary dilettantism7）—thanks to the likes of Thomas De Quincey， the 19th-century English essayist and wastrel8）， who succumbed to opium while reclining on a chaise. Later， writers ranging from Truman Capote to the former US poet laureate Charles Simic would confess to producing their best work while horizontal.

Until recently， lying down was seen as the horizontal counterpart to the dreamy rambling9） of the melancholy fl?neur10）， walking about without pursuing any goal in particular. When we lie on our backs and direct our gaze up toward the ceiling or sky， we lose our physical grasp of things. We relax our state of hyper-vigilance11）， and our thoughts soar.

Indeed， the general disdain for lying down was “unhealthy” and “hypocritical，” according to G K Chesterton， the English critic renowned for his contrarian12） wit. In the essay On Lying in Bed （1909）， he championed each persons freedom and flexibility to decide when to get out of bed， or to enjoy lunch “sometimes in the garden， sometimes in bed， sometimes on the roof， sometimes in the top of a tree.” Although Chesterton recommended that these bouts of leisure （which did not include sleep） be “very occasional，” he insisted that it was unnecessary to justify such aimlessness， except in cases of serious illness. “If a healthy man lies in bed，” he explains， “l(fā)et him do it without a rag of excuse; then he will get up a healthy man.” However， he warns， if he lies down with a scientific or medical purpose in mind， “he may get up a hypochondriac13）.”

The Chinese author Lin Yutang wrote in 1937 that “our senses are the keenest in that moment” when we are lying down， and added that “all good music should be listened to in the lying condition.” Our mental makeup and even the structure of our perception can change with a shift of posture. Responses that seemed perfectly natural a few minutes earlier， when we were standing upright or sitting， become inexplicable. Questions that were so important appear in a different light when we view them horizontally. Voices and even the ringing of a telephone might no longer reach us with the same urgency as when we were standing.

Yet， these days， the art of repose is under assault. With the advent of smartphones， hardly any vertical or horizontal position is safe from the disturbances of the outside world. We ruin our sleep by exposing our retinas14） to the bright blue light of our screens just before bed. We put our phones next to our pillows or on the bedside table， and our first action in the morning is to reach over to check the messages that have arrived overnight.

The concern about the scarcity of our attention is not without precedent—or at least it can be seen as the latest chapter in a long-running story. With the rise of the novel in the 18th century， long reading sessions became common practice among the educated classes. Paintings abound of women lolling on couches. A reclined pose was seen as a proof of indolence in a fast-changing world.

Now that idleness is harder and harder to find， even sleeping might soon be regarded as a mere necessity， a way of simply making yourself ready to be productive the next day. With the rise of sleep-tracking apps—and technologies to radically reduce how much shut-eye we need—the instrumental and quantifying logic of the market has finally conquered one of the last domains that was reasonably free from economic concerns. “There will be sleeping enough in the grave，” said Benjamin Franklin， the wakeful polymath and a founding father of the United States. If both dreaming and daydreaming are under attack， will lying around be reserved for late age and， perhaps， death？

傳說中羅馬人的餐桌叫餐榻，以木頭或石頭制成，上面以布覆蓋，專門為躺臥而設(shè)計。我有時會好奇它們是否真的舒服。話說回來，由于2000年前的人們并沒有享受過由厚厚的墊子帶來的現(xiàn)代意義上的舒適感，他們或許比我們更喜歡這種臥榻。躺在這樣的餐榻上，吃吃葡萄，喝喝酒，交流一下哲學(xué)思想，會一會潛在的情人，真是再合適不過了。

然而，作為一種成熟的藝術(shù)形式，躺臥直到很晚才得以完善。以divan為例，該詞在不同場合具有不同的意義：土耳其人的divan就是地板上放置的一個墊子，或者沿著整面墻搭建的平整的壁架;在法國人的閨房里，divan是一種帶有軟墊的長凳，上面通常飾以流蘇和穗子，置放于房間中間。這個詞甚至還可以指一排圍繞在某種高臺邊的椅子。最終，divan與couch和文學(xué)愛好聯(lián)系在一起，這要感謝像托馬斯·德·昆西這樣的人物，他是19世紀(jì)英國散文家，一個揮霍無度的人，經(jīng)常斜躺在沙發(fā)上抽鴉片。后來，一些作家，從杜魯門·卡波特到前美國桂冠詩人查爾斯·西米克，都承認(rèn)在躺著的時候創(chuàng)造出了他們最優(yōu)秀的作品。

直到最近，躺臥一直被認(rèn)為是一種躺著的夢幻漫游，如同憂郁的漫步者漫無目的地閑逛一般。當(dāng)我們仰面而臥，目光凝視著天花板或者天空，就會失去對萬物的外在掌控，神游物外。我們從高度緊張的狀態(tài)中放松下來，讓思想自由翱翔。

以反向思維而聞名的英國批評家G·K·切斯特頓認(rèn)為，的確，人們鄙視躺臥的原因一般是“不健康”“太矯情”。在《論臥床》（1909）一文中，他贊同每個人都要有決定自己何時起床或何處享用午餐的自由和靈活性，“可以在花園里，可以在床上，可以在房頂，也可以在樹頂上”。盡管切斯特頓建議這種休閑行為（不包括睡眠）只能“偶爾為之”，但他堅持認(rèn)為沒必要為這類隨意性的行為去找理由，除非是重病在身之類的原因?！叭绻粋€健康的人躺在床上，”他解釋說，“那就讓他躺著好了，沒必要去找任何理由，他起來時仍然會是個健康的人?！钡?，他警告說，如果他是頭腦中帶有某種科學(xué)或醫(yī)學(xué)目的而躺下的，“他起床后有可能疑神疑鬼，懷疑自己得了病”。

中國作家林語堂在1937年曾這樣寫道：躺下的時候，“我們的感官在那一刻是最為敏感的”。他還說，“所有美妙的音樂都應(yīng)該在躺臥狀態(tài)下聆聽欣賞”。我們頭腦的構(gòu)成甚至知覺的結(jié)構(gòu)都會隨著姿勢的改變而改變。在直立或坐姿狀態(tài)下看似非常自然的反應(yīng)，幾分鐘后換個姿勢有可能會變得不可思議。有些看似非常重要的問題，在我們躺下來重新審視時，往往會呈現(xiàn)出不同的樣子。站立時聽起來非常緊急的聲音甚至電話鈴聲，在我們躺下時聽起來或許也不那么緊迫了。

然而，現(xiàn)如今，靜臥的藝術(shù)正受到侵?jǐn)_。隨著智能手機的出現(xiàn)，無論站立或躺臥都有可能受到外界的干擾。睡覺之前，我們將視網(wǎng)膜暴露于手機屏幕刺眼的藍(lán)光之下，從而毀掉睡眠。我們將手機放到枕邊或床頭柜上，早上醒來第一個動作就是拿手機，查看夜間發(fā)來的信息。

人們對注意力缺乏的憂慮并非史無前例——或至少可以看作是歷史長河中最近的一章。在18世紀(jì)，隨著小說的興起，在受教育階層，長時間閱讀已十分普遍。油畫上經(jīng)?？梢钥吹綉醒笱笠锌吭谂P榻上的女人形象。而在現(xiàn)今飛速變化的世界里，斜躺的姿勢被認(rèn)為是懶惰的證明。

現(xiàn)如今，享受悠閑變得越來越難，甚至睡眠也可能很快被認(rèn)為只是一種需要，僅僅是為了使自己第二天更有效地工作。隨著睡眠跟蹤程序的興起，以及可以大大降低我們所需睡眠時間的技術(shù)的成熟，市場的工具性以及量化邏輯終于征服了最后一個原本無關(guān)經(jīng)濟(jì)利益的領(lǐng)域。“在墳?zāi)估镒畛渥愕木褪撬??！鼻逍选⒉W(xué)的美國開國元勛本杰明·富蘭克林如是說。如果連夢與夢幻都備受抨擊，那么躺臥是不是只能留給晚年，甚至或許留給死亡呢？

1. klinai：指躺椅、長沙發(fā)椅、臥榻，是一種在古希臘和羅馬時期用的家具。

2. divan [d??v?n] n. （無靠背和扶手的）沙發(fā)

3. boudoir [?bu?dwɑ?（r）] n. （舊時女子的）閨房，豪華臥室

4. upholstered [?p?h??lst?（r）d] adj. （家具）有軟墊的

5. tassel [?t?s（?）l] n. 流蘇，穗

6. fringe [fr?nd?] n. （衣服等邊緣的）穗子，緣飾，流蘇

7. dilettantism [?d?l??t?nt?z（?）m] n. （對藝術(shù)、科學(xué)等的）淺薄涉獵;業(yè)余愛好

8. wastrel [?we?str?l] n. 浪費時間和金錢的懶惰之人

9. rambling [?r?mbl??] n. （尤指在鄉(xiāng)間）漫步，漫游，閑逛

10. fl?neur [fla?n??] n. 懶漢;愛閑蕩的人

11. vigilance [?v?d??l?ns] n. 警惕，警覺

12. contrarian [?k?n?tre?r??n] n. （與其他人）持相反意見者;做法或信仰截然相反者;別出心裁者

13. hypochondriac[?ha?p???k?ndri?k] n. 疑病患者

14. retina [?ret?n?] n. 視網(wǎng)膜