所謂情緒，究竟是什么？是不是一種感受侥啤、反應(yīng)叹谁，一種來(lái)自感官的響應(yīng)？憎恨、崇拜、愛意、同情澎怒，這些都是情緒，有些我們稱為正面的阶牍，如愛意喷面、同情；而其他如憎恨等荸恕，則視為負(fù)面乖酬，并想甩脫。那么融求，愛是恨的對(duì)立面嗎咬像？愛，是情緒、覺受嗎县昂？是通過(guò)記憶而維持的感受嗎肮柜？

所謂的愛，又是什么呢倒彰？顯然审洞，愛不是記憶。這一點(diǎn)很難理解待讳，因?yàn)閷?duì)我們多數(shù)人而言芒澜，愛就是記憶。當(dāng)你說(shuō)愛太太创淡、愛先生的時(shí)候痴晦，你究竟指什么呢？你所愛的琳彩，只是那個(gè)給你快樂(lè)的人誊酌，是吧？你所愛的露乏，是你已經(jīng)深深認(rèn)同碧浊、并當(dāng)作私產(chǎn)的那個(gè)人，是吧瘟仿？ 勞駕箱锐，這都是事實(shí)，我可沒有任何虛構(gòu)劳较，別這樣驚詫萬(wàn)狀瑞躺。

我們所愛的，或自以為所愛的兴想，只是那個(gè)喚作“我太太”或“我先生”的心像、符號(hào)赡勘，而不是那個(gè)活生生的人嫂便。我們根本不懂自己的太太、先生闸与，只要我們以為“認(rèn)得他”就等于“懂得他”毙替，就根本不能真正懂得一個(gè)人〖＃“認(rèn)得”厂画，是基于記憶的——記憶中的快樂(lè)與痛苦，記憶中令我期盼拷邢、令我痛苦的事物袱院，記憶中我擁有并執(zhí)著的事物。如果心中還有恐懼、痛苦忽洛、孤獨(dú)與絕望的記憶陰影腻惠，我如何能愛呢？一個(gè)充滿企圖心的人欲虚，如何能愛呢集灌？其實(shí)我們都充滿了企圖心，不論何等衣冠楚楚复哆。

所以欣喧，要想真正明白愛是什么，我們必須放下過(guò)去梯找，放下所有情緒唆阿，無(wú)論好情緒或壞情緒；要輕松放下初肉，就如同明白了毒品有毒而痛快地拋下酷鸦。

——克里希那穆提《生命書：365觀心日課》（The Book of Life: Daily Meditations with Krishnamurti）

We Must Die to All Our Emotions

What do we mean by emotion? Is it a sensation, a reaction, a response of the senses? Hate, devotion, the feeling of love or sympathy for another—they are all emotions. Some, like love and sympathy, we call positive, while others, like hate, we call negative and want to get rid of. Is love the opposite of hate? And is love an emotion, a sensation, a feeling that is stretched out through memory?

… So, what do we mean by love? Surely, love is not memory. That is very difficult for us to understand because for most of us, love is memory. When you say that you love your wife or your husband, what do you mean by that? Do you love that which gives you pleasure? Do you love that with which you have identified yourself and which you recognize as belonging to you? Please, these are facts; I am not inventing anything, so don’t look horrified.

… It is the image, the symbol of “my wife” or “my husband” that we love, or think we love, not the living individual. I don’t know my wife or my husband at all; and I can never know that person as long as knowing means recognition. For recognition is based on memory—memory of pleasure and pain, memory of the things I have lived for, agonized over, the things I possess and to which I am attached. How can I love when there is fear, sorrow, loneliness, the shadow of despair? How can an ambitious man love? And we are all very ambitious, however honourably.

So, really to find out what love is, we must die to the past, to all our emotions, the good and the bad—die effortlessly, as we would to a poisonous thing, because we understand it.

MAY 6