Survive the Passage
從員林到台北，客運車上的隨想。
搭車時我總是習慣性地盯著窗外看。因為從小生長在需要到處奔波的環境之中，對於坐車旅行這件事，已經是非常地習慣。比起睡覺、談天或是看電影，我傾向選擇盯著窗外的風景隨意瀏覽。單純讓眼睛睜著，讓走馬燈式的景色從視野中穿過，已經成為一種直覺式的反射動作，從員林，彰化，台中，豐原，三義，苗栗，新竹，中壢，桃園，林口，一直到台北，同樣的景色或許已經看過了一百次，或許實際上還沒有。但是已經有看過一百次以上的感覺了，通過哪條溪流，接下來會看到什麼樣的市景，從哪邊開始，南北車道會分隔成不同的高度，一直到哪裡為止，又再匯流成一條寬廣的大道。記憶像是細數臉上的痔一樣慢慢地應和著下一分鐘的風景。意識擱在哪裡，又不是完全的停滯。幾十萬輛的車流快速地通過眼前，換種意義上來說，也可以說是種靜止不變的風景。明明在流動著，卻又是靜止著。世界上就是並存著各式各樣看似矛盾的事物。
這番光景，說無聊，那也真的是無聊地無藥可救。
車上的電視懶洋洋地播著黎明與王菲主演的「大城小事」，故事的背景在上海。上海，或許我這一輩子都不會造臨這個城市。通過攝影鏡頭與濾色片的渲染，上海是一個色彩繽紛，夜空綻放著煙火的都市。那是什麼地方？活著什麼樣的人們？他們關心著什麼，又擔憂些什麼？現在的我還沒有辦法適切地想像。連生活在台北這件事實，幾年前的我也是沒有辦法想像。至少實際在此生活過，才瞭解台北不是一個色彩繽紛的城市。從感官上來說，台北的色調比較接近白濁濁，時常被霾煙籠罩著。人們不見得如現代劇般過得神采奕奕，一樣會逛全聯跟家樂福。市街上，咖啡店多了點，但是豆漿店也不少。不是大家都去誠品或逛101。101旁有老農在種田，東區後巷有發財車兜售著麵包。居民會因為連續的陰雨天而煩躁，因為塞車與擁擠的人群咆嘯，給打破默契與秩序的人白眼。想像終歸想像，我想真正的上海人應該也不會活得像電影中的王菲黎明，同樣地，巴黎女人不全都像奧黛莉朵度氣質出眾，阿根廷的男人們不見得都如切格瓦拉一樣具有革命精神。
轉頭望往窗外，遠方的夜班火車駛過房舍雜落的原野。
一百多年前的歐陸，火車依然是燒著煤炭，一面排放著極為可觀的黑色濃煙，一邊轟隆隆地前進。因為機爐排放出的黑煙實在是太過濃厚，火車行駛在曠野時還好，一旦要通過隧道，無處宣洩的濃煙便會把乘客嗆的頭暈眼花。所以某一段時期，為了避免讓乘客飽受煙害之苦，火車車廂採取了封閉的設計，換句話說，當時的車廂沒有所謂的窗戶，進入車廂的乘客，就是進入了一個密閉又不斷顛簸著的房間。火車憑藉著動力在軌道上橫行著，車廂內彷彿錯置在另外一個隔絕於工業結晶外的空間。車輪跨過鐵軌的間隙，車廂內的乘客聯動著顛簸，喪失了景物與視野的連結，到底是在前進抑或後退也不得而之。而後新一代的列車終於在車廂壁上開了窗戶，那種絕離壓迫的閉塞感也才解放出來。那麼當年那些在密閉車廂中的乘客們，他們到底在乘車的過程中進行著什麼事情呢？在沒有電視、手機的時代，列車的搖晃相當地劇烈，車頭傳來震耳欲聾的汽笛聲，座椅也欠缺人體工學的考量，說實在並不是一個適合休息的場所。我想像著那個已經不存在於現世，有如深海的潛水鐘一樣的空間。想像著置入那個空間的情境，是惶恐，或是孤絕。大概事實並沒有那麼具有戲劇性，當時的乘客就與現在一樣，靜靜地坐著，各自地想像著不同的事情吧。
思想上的自由，是與生俱來的權利。人生在世，會受到許多繁雜糾結的拘束，就算是實現民主的國度，人依然註定無法得到現實上完全的自由。但是腦海裡的自由不同，沒有所謂的規則與拘束，是在世界上任何一個場所都能夠獨立運作的概念。就算是自己所建立的理性限制，像是「這樣想的話，就是罪惡」的評價，只要讓思路轉換的型態，也能夠無礙地穿越那些概念上的城牆。腦海是一個無垠的空間，可以隨意地決定意識的流向，連帶地就產生了想像力。人先天就有這些神秘的特質，並利用這些特質，建構了現有的一切。不光是這些特質造就了我們，同樣的天生資質，也損耗著我們。像是憎恨、報復、嫉妒，當然孤獨也是。
到底這樣子空想有什麼好的，為什麼不看點電影，聊聊天，或者睡覺補充體力呢？如果真的有人這樣子問，我大概也只能支吾其詞，不知道該怎麼回答起。說起來也只是徒勞無功的運作，不會得到實質上的報酬。但無論如何，終究能夠留下一點曾經努力思考過的痕跡，不管效率如何，是有建設性或是狗屁不通，結果所得到的東西，從另外一種觀點來看，卻是最為重要的事情。對我來說，真正有價值的東西，往往是眼睛看不到的事物，無法用明確的數字、評價、表現呈現在面前，那是包含在所謂「生活」的整體之中，需要花費大量毫無效率的嘗試與反省去獲得。雖然不是光鮮亮麗的東西，無法激起好奇心的火花，甚至外表看來還帶著點乏味，但我認為，即時是徒勞無益，那絕對不是愚昧的事情。
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NEJM---A Day in the Life of Oscar the Cat
From New England Journal of Medicine
David M. Dosa, M.D., M.P.H.
Oscar the Cat awakens from his nap, opening a single eye to survey his kingdom. From atop the desk in the doctor's charting area, the cat peers down the two wings of the nursing home's advanced dementia unit. All quiet on the western and eastern fronts. Slowly, he rises and extravagantly stretches his 2-year-old frame, first backward and then forward. He sits up and considers his next move.
In the distance, a resident approaches. It is Mrs. P., who has been living on the dementia unit's third floor for 3 years now. She has long forgotten her family, even though they visit her almost daily. Moderately disheveled after eating her lunch, half of which she now wears on her shirt, Mrs. P. is taking one of her many aimless strolls to nowhere. She glides toward Oscar, pushing her walker and muttering to herself with complete disregard for her surroundings. Perturbed, Oscar watches her carefully and, as she walks by, lets out a gentle hiss, a rattlesnake-like warning that says "leave me alone." She passes him without a glance and continues down the hallway. Oscar is relieved. It is not yet Mrs. P.'s time, and he wants nothing to do with her.
Oscar jumps down off the desk, relieved to be once more alone and in control of his domain. He takes a few moments to drink from his water bowl and grab a quick bite. Satisfied, he enjoys another stretch and sets out on his rounds. Oscar decides to head down the west wing first, along the way sidestepping Mr. S., who is slumped over on a couch in the hallway. With lips slightly pursed, he snores peacefully — perhaps blissfully unaware of where he is now living. Oscar continues down the hallway until he reaches its end and Room 310. The door is closed, so Oscar sits and waits. He has important business here.
Twenty-five minutes later, the door finally opens, and out walks a nurse's aide carrying dirty linens. "Hello, Oscar," she says. "Are you going inside?" Oscar lets her pass, then makes his way into the room, where there are two people. Lying in a corner bed and facing the wall, Mrs. T. is asleep in a fetal position. Her body is thin and wasted from the breast cancer that has been eating away at her organs. She is mildly jaundiced and has not spoken in several days. Sitting next to her is her daughter, who glances up from her novel to warmly greet the visitor. "Hello, Oscar. How are you today?"
Oscar takes no notice of the woman and leaps up onto the bed. He surveys Mrs. T. She is clearly in the terminal phase of illness, and her breathing is labored. Oscar's examination is interrupted by a nurse, who walks in to ask the daughter whether Mrs. T. is uncomfortable and needs more morphine. The daughter shakes her head, and the nurse retreats. Oscar returns to his work. He sniffs the air, gives Mrs. T. one final look, then jumps off the bed and quickly leaves the room. Not today.
Making his way back up the hallway, Oscar arrives at Room 313. The door is open, and he proceeds inside. Mrs. K. is resting peacefully in her bed, her breathing steady but shallow. She is surrounded by photographs of her grandchildren and one from her wedding day. Despite these keepsakes, she is alone. Oscar jumps onto her bed and again sniffs the air. He pauses to consider the situation, and then turns around twice before curling up beside Mrs. K.
One hour passes. Oscar waits. A nurse walks into the room to check on her patient. She pauses to note Oscar's presence. Concerned, she hurriedly leaves the room and returns to her desk. She grabs Mrs. K.'s chart off the medical-records rack and begins to make phone calls.
Within a half hour the family starts to arrive. Chairs are brought into the room, where the relatives begin their vigil. The priest is called to deliver last rites. And still, Oscar has not budged, instead purring and gently nuzzling Mrs. K. A young grandson asks his mother, "What is the cat doing here?" The mother, fighting back tears, tells him, "He is here to help Grandma get to heaven." Thirty minutes later, Mrs. K. takes her last earthly breath. With this, Oscar sits up, looks around, then departs the room so quietly that the grieving family barely notices.
On his way back to the charting area, Oscar passes a plaque mounted on the wall. On it is engraved a commendation from a local hospice agency: "For his compassionate hospice care, this plaque is awarded to Oscar the Cat." Oscar takes a quick drink of water and returns to his desk to curl up for a long rest. His day's work is done. There will be no more deaths today, not in Room 310 or in any other room for that matter. After all, no one dies on the third floor unless Oscar pays a visit and stays awhile.
Note: Since he was adopted by staff members as a kitten, Oscar the Cat has had an uncanny ability to predict when residents are about to die. Thus far, he has presided over the deaths of more than 25 residents on the third floor of Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Providence, Rhode Island. His mere presence at the bedside is viewed by physicians and nursing home staff as an almost absolute indicator of impending death, allowing staff members to adequately notify families. Oscar has also provided companionship to those who would otherwise have died alone. For his work, he is highly regarded by the physicians and staff at Steere House and by the families of the residents whom he serves.
在車棚抽煙的高中生們
到底戰勝了什麼呢？
憑藉不向威權屈服的意志，嗜食著象徵自由叛逆的雲煙。那份自由還略帶一點嗆辣味，在黑暗與悉穌聲之中理直氣壯地點燃屬於自己的小火光，用火光照著青春朦朧不定的晦暗，吞吐放蕩不羈的豪邁氣度，就算打破常規、被貼上標籤，依然要為教養束縛著的意念，邁開一片出路。
所以，在那之後，他們戰勝了什麼？又擺脫了什麼？
還是，他們只是在逃避什麼？
一雙恣意悖規的眼神，背後強撐著，隨時會被沈重的自由與無意義給壓倒的身軀。
強撐著，火光搖曳地閃著。
Eyes on....
你知道嗎？觀察夜空中的群星時，若我們不用正眼去仰視滿天星斗，改以斜眼去瞄，反而能更清楚窺見星星，感受到整體星群的亮度。
從解剖學的構造上來說，眼球是以視網膜接收通過瞳孔的光線，而視網膜的外側比起內側，更容易接受微小的光線，一旦我們將眼球愈往正前方轉，視野聚焦在中央的部份，眼中星星的亮度就會越來越黯淡。因為視網膜並不是一個均勻的網，當正眼看星星，中心的部份會立即接收各種不同波長、方向的星光。視網膜中心是對「色彩」敏感的區域，但比起對「光線」的敏感度，反而是週邊的構造較為擅長。因此，如果用斜眼去瞄星星，反而比較能夠接受曖昧朦朧的光線，也更能細緻地辨別出不同星座的組成星辰。
在演化的角度上，或許可以提出這麼一個假說。在漆黑的夜空之中，動物的眼睛必須在只有月亮與星空的原野上，辨識出獵物或者敵人。也因此，動物的眼睛對光線比起顏色來的敏感，視野變得寬廣，好察覺周圍草木的一絲變化。相較起來，人利用智慧建立起了專屬於自己的生存環境，用火與電照亮了世界，驅趕了野獸。那雙在蠻荒中求生存的眼睛，也隨著時間產生變化。
跟其他物種相比，人眼中的世界色彩比較豐富，但是視野卻是不成比例的狹隘。具體上來說，人類失去了視覺上的警戒能力，無法在荒野上察覺草叢中潛伏的獅子，在黑夜的樹林中發現腳邊的毒蛇。但是，人類獲得了另外一種能力，可以從砂礫中，找到精緻透亮的寶石。能在顯微鏡的視野中，觀察比浮萍更加渺小的生物。
換句話來說，人擁有洞察的能力，可以深入視野聚焦之處，利用分析與搜及資訊的能力，從單一點深入地去思考某個事件的癥結點。得到了某些線索，便會專注在單一方向的思考，進一步去挖掘，然後熱心地去相信。也就是憑藉著這股擅長於深究的天性，也才能達到今日所擁有的成就。
但是其中依然存在著許多盲點。畢竟真實的世界，並不是像「這裡就是藏寶圖上的地點，從這裡挖下去，就一定能找到寶藏」一樣地簡單。實際上，世界是依循著更加晦澀模糊的規則所運行著。就像龐大複雜的地下水路一樣，充滿著迂迴的通路，直入直往的思考方式並不一定能窺見出處。人們往往很執著地去相信，去探索某一點，到頭來，真相並不一定存在於那一點，思路也就陷入了死胡頭之中。像是嘲笑人一樣，現實往往把真相擺在顯而易見的角落。只消往後退一步，讓視野從宏觀一些的角度去觀察，它其實就在伸手可及的地方。
據說世界上視力最好的人，是生活在蒙古草原上的獵人。在一望無際的內陸，草原像是大海一樣寬廣，太陽從地平線的一端升起又在另一端落下，人與世界的關係迴異於常人的認知。人居處沒有所謂的街道與社區，在壓倒性的天與地之間，人類顯得異常地渺小。人與宇宙彼此的維度關係，隨著吹過草原的風一起形塑了獵人的視野。他們總是緊蹙著眼瞼，收斂著超乎定義的銳利眼神，他們可以發現百公尺外草叢中的野兔、穴鼠，可以眺見數公里遠的飛鷹。倘若換做是一個習慣於物質生活的文明人，就算用望遠鏡或夜視設備，也很難在曠野中找尋出動物的蹤跡。畢竟那是關乎視角的差異，蒙古獵人的視野與文明人同樣寬闊，但是提及視野的密度，文明人看來單調平板的草原，在他們眼中卻有著無盡的可觀之處。
我們習慣的世界，是一個虛構出來的堡壘。城市建物的天際線切割了天空，阻絕了本應延伸下去的視線。我們關心眼前的事，喜歡探究一連串事件的單一環節，卻看不見另外一個視角下的整體情況，雖是明眼人，卻選擇蒙蔽原本洞察一切的雙眼。同樣的意義，如果過度地埋首深究某一件事，反而容易會讓視角極遽萎縮在一個小點，令自己更加地困惑。說起來真是諷刺，明明想要看清事實的真相，竟然讓洞察力無意識地減弱。
看見一片葉子，就看不見整棵青鬱叢生的樹木。看見一棵樹，就無法體會森林巨幅展開的壯闊。前人欲闡明的，或許就是這層意思。
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