Early in the week, June texted me. I’ve got a credenza and three file cabinets. She’s clearing out her home office, finally retired, the library where I work as good a donation recipient as anyone. A few weeks ago, she dropped off a big box of office supplies.

I texted back the next day. Can you send pictures?

I already did.

Sorry, I’m off my game.

Self-care, Jeff, self-care

Off my game: I’ve used that phrase twice this week. I’m screwing up at work. This morning, I called in sick but didn’t check my calendar. My nine o’clock showed up on schedule, she drove in from the next town. She hasn’t responded to my apology email.

It’s been a crazy two weeks. I took a five-day east coast jaunt to Massachusetts, Maine, and Rhode Island; instructed extra spin classes subbing for an injured colleague; worked a massive three-day book sale; had dinner with an online friend I’d never met. Two weeks of constant motion.

Getting sick was a given, I’m always sick after the book sale. It’s a superspreader event. Annually, thousands of people pack a rented auction house to shop a year’s worth of donated books. As a cashier, I interact with many of them. I handle their money and their credit cards. I make small talk. Because of Tourette, I lick my lips and wipe them dry every eight seconds. I tried to wipe on my shirt sleeve, but I must have used the palm of my grimy hand a couple hundred times.

Wednesday morning felt like swallowing broken glass. My Covid test read negative so I went to work and processed payroll. I spent the rest of the day asleep in bed. Thursday, feeling better, I worked all day and stupidly instructed a spin class I should have cancelled.  Today, Friday, I’m down for the count.

Coughing, congestion, contagion. I’m home alone and avoiding Susan when she’s around. The vibration of my pervasive stimming grunt in the back of my throat loosens mucus in waves like a bursting dam. Quick trips to the bathroom flush away the draining fluids that would otherwise settle in my lungs. A three-week cough is my inevitable result of a simple head cold.

A Monday blood test signaled high cholesterol. I had it under control with my daily oatmeal breakfast. I fell off that wagon six months ago. I returned to breakfast cereals. Cinnamon Oat Crunch Cheerios promises three and a half hours of satiation right on the front of the box. That never happened. After ninety minutes my hands shake from hunger. Yesterday I made oatmeal with blueberries and walnuts. I felt ready to tackle the fifteen pounds I’ve put on since 2012.

This morning knowing I was sick, and hungry from my post-spin calorie deficit, I scarfed down three bowls of Golden Grahams. I shopped for donuts and cake. I bought an Italian sub and kettle chips for lunch. Hot dogs for dinner. I grabbed a bag of Old Bay seasoned caramel corn just because. For some reason, I think self-care means junk food.

As my sick day draws to a close, I feel disgusting, overfed. My comfort food has left me uncomfortable, weighted down. I’ll take another shot at self-care tomorrow, an oatmeal breakfast and some time outside now that the heat and humidity of the last two months have passed. I doubt I’ll feel good enough to go to yoga, but starting the day with a two-mile walk might be a few steps in the right direction.

Photo by cottonbro studio on pexels.com

当年睡过了头，错过了跨年灯光秀，也避开了踩踏事件

Recently, a friend persistently labels me as a 'leftist'. I suspect this label serves more to reinforce his own political identity than to accurately describe mine.

However, I have to say, unfortunately, I am a classical liberal.

As a classical liberal, I believe that protecting individual rights and upholding the rule of law form the foundation of a just society. Free markets and limited government represent the most effective means to maximize both personal freedom and societal welfare. This philosophy recognizes that voluntary exchange and competition, within a framework of clear rules and property rights, generate prosperity while preserving human dignity.

Yet, classical liberalism is not dogmatic. It recognizes real challenges like market failures, information asymmetries, and inequality. When markets fail to produce optimal outcomes due to monopolies, externalities, or genuine public goods, targeted interventions may be necessary. The key is to ensure that these interventions are proportionate, evidence based, and aimed at restoring market mechanisms rather than replacing them whenever possible.

This nuanced approach defies simple left right categorization. Classical liberals may support progressive taxation to fund essential public goods while opposing excessive regulation. They might advocate for strong antitrust enforcement while championing free trade. They often defend civil liberties against both corporate overreach and government surveillance.

In fact, I believe reducing any individual to a simple 'leftist' or 'rightist' misses the point entirely. Human beings are so complex, how do we define a man as a leftist or rightist? It's quite common for someone to hold left-leaning views on certain issues while aligning with the right on others. We each hold views that may align with different parts of the political spectrum depending on the issue. A person might support market solutions for economic efficiency while advocating for strong social safety nets for moral reasons. They might champion individual liberty while acknowledging the need for collective action on climate change.

This complexity is not inconsistency. I must point out that it reflects the multifaceted nature of both human values and societal challenges. The world, as I have noted before, is beautifully multifaceted precisely because it can accommodate all things while maintaining its own natural order and rhythm. Political wisdom lies not in forcing this complexity into rigid ideological boxes, but in finding principled ways to navigate it.

Classical liberalism offers such a framework: one rooted in respect for individual dignity, skeptical of concentrated power whether public or private, and committed to institutions that allow diverse perspectives to flourish through peaceful exchange and democratic deliberation.

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不知生病的缘故，身体虽然机能衰退，但心思却活泛了起来。可能生命这种物质现象也符合能量守恒定律？

太史公在给任安的信中有这样一段：

盖文王拘而演《周易》；仲尼厄而作《春秋》；屈原放逐，乃赋《离骚》；左丘失明，厥有《国语》；孙子膑脚，《兵法》修列；不韦迁蜀，世传《吕览》；韩非囚秦，《说难》《孤愤》；《诗》三百篇，大底圣贤发愤之所为作也。

古圣先贤们想来也是在身体衰退、受限的情况下才成就了这些不朽之作。

生病总是痛苦的，但痛苦本身是什么呢？用佛家的话讲，是对这一期色身的执着，没有参透「无常」与「无我」，没有建立对「空」的认知。

与近来也抱恙的朋友聊天，他说最让他郁闷的点在于，肉身的不适让他觉得很累赘，更让他痛苦的是，明明把事情都分析得很清楚，把思维都看透了，还是跳不出枷锁。

这便是一种典型的执着。而我所陷入的是另一种执着。

身体痛苦的时候，我告诉自己不要执着于感觉。然而，痛苦本身还是客观存在的，因为虽然我可以通过主观意识去调节对痛苦的感知，但在客观上，痛苦并不会就此消失。那么，到底是我在感觉痛苦，还是痛苦在让我感觉呢？

换句话说，这个「我」到底是什么？

在过去的一周里，我还思考了另一个相关的问题——思考我的思考。

意思是说，我不仅思考外部世界、内部世界，思考事物，思考自己、思考他人，还能够主动地审视、分析并质疑自己的思考过程，包括自己的认知、信念等等。

因为当一切都可以被怀疑时，唯一不可怀疑的其实就是我正在思考这一动作，这个事实。即使我在怀疑自己是不是在思考，那也必然有一个在怀疑、在思考的我的存在。这也是笛卡尔所说的「我思故我在」。

但这里又产生了一个悖论：如果我可以思考我的思考，那么是谁在思考？是第一层的「我」，还是第二层的「我」？如果存在一个能够观察思考过程的「我」，那么这个观察者本身又是什么？

佛家倒是对此有更为彻底的解构。所谓的「我」不过是五蕴（色、受、想、行、识）的聚合，如同一辆马车，拆开来看，车轮是车轮，车厢是车厢，车轭是车轭，并没有一个独立存在的「马车」这个本体。同样，当我们仔细观察时，会发现并没有一个恒常不变的「我」，只有刹那生灭的身心现象流。

这种观察让我想起了另一个经验：在深度专注或冥想的状态下，主客、能所的界限会变得模糊。没有了「我在思考」，只有思考本身在发生；没有了「我在观察」，只有观察在进行。在彼时彼刻，平日里牢固的自我感会暂时消散，取而代之的是一种广阔而宁静的存在感。正如《心经》中所说的「观自在菩萨，行深般若波罗蜜多时，照见五蕴皆空，度一切苦厄。」

那么也许，平日里所执着的「我」，本来就是一个虚构？

然而，问题又来了，既然如此，何必要吃药，何必要治疗呢？

这让我陷入了短暂的沉思，不过很快我就反应了过来，这是「毕竟空」而非「真空假有」。举例来说，一个演员知道自己只是在扮演一个角色，但他依然会认真对待这个角色，努力把戏演好。不是因为他认为自己就是那个角色，而是因为这样做本身就是对生命、对存在的尊重。

照顾这个身体，不是因为「我」拥有它，而是因为它是因缘托付给我的一件珍宝。治疗疾病，不是为了延长「我」的存在，而是为了让这个生命载体能够更好地完成它的使命——造业与消业。

如此我似乎更理解了圣严长老的临终偈：

无事忙中老，空里有哭笑。本来没有我，生死皆可抛。

也许这就是「本来面目」，意即不是哪一个特定的「我」的面目，而是生命原本的样子。在这个层面上，没有生病的「我」，也没有健康的「我」；没有痛苦的「我」，也没有快乐的「我」。

有的，只是生命在持续地体验着自己。

而我们，不过是这个宏大体验中的一个瞬间，一次呼吸，一个念头，一束光。

本来没有我，但生命依然在这里，以它自己的方式，永恒地存在着。

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中国传统文化中的「慎独」理念可谓融贯三教，深远而恒久。此词源于《中庸》，强调即使在独处无人、缺乏外在监督的情况下，仍要谨慎自持，不做任何有违道德的事情：

莫见乎隐，莫显乎微，故君子慎其独也。

若究其深意，正如《大学》所阐述：

所谓诚其意者：毋自欺也，如恶恶臭，如好好色，此之谓自谦，故君子必慎其独也！

在葡萄牙的传统文化中，也存在着相似的理念，被称为 "autocontrole" —— 即以健康的方式处理思想、感情和情绪，从而应对问题或意外情况的能力。这一理念深深植根于天主教传统之中，被视为一种重要的生活智慧。

除了 "autocontrole" 之外，葡萄牙文化还孕育了一个独特而深刻的概念 —— "Saudade"。这个词汇承载着「通常由某物或某人的距离或缺席所引发的，一系列复杂的感情」。它体现了葡萄牙人深层的内在情感反思传统，是一种对失去或远离事物的深切怀念，同时交织着希望与忧郁的复杂情感。这种独特的情感文化源于葡萄牙悠久的海洋传统。

在「大发现时代」，勇敢的水手们远航探索未知海域，与家人往往要分离数年甚至永远无法重逢。正因如此，葡萄牙本土音乐 Fado（法朵），成为表达 Saudade 最生动、最真挚的方式。那忧郁深沉的旋律、令人难忘的嗓音和充满诗意的歌词，经常触及爱情、失去和渴望等永恒主题，诉说着人类内心最深处的情感。

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