Although the act of nurturing another’s spiritual growth has the effect of nurturing one’s own, a major characteristic of genuine love is that the distinction between oneself and the other is always maintained(被保持的) and preserved(保留的). The genuine lover always perceives the beloved as someone who has totally separate identity. Moreover, the genuine lover always respects and even encourages this separateness and the unique individuality of the beloved. Failure to perceive and respect this separateness is extremely common, however, and the cause of much mental illness and unnecessary suffering.
In its most extreme form the failure to perceive the separateness of the other is called narcissism(自恋). Frankly narcissistic individuals are actually unable to perceive their children, spouses or friends as being separate from themselves on an emotional level. The first time I began to understand what narcissism is all about was during an interview with the parents of a schizophrenic(精神分裂症的) patient whom I will call Susan X. Susan at the time was thirty-one. Since the age of eighteen she had made a number of serious suicide attempts, and had had to be hospitalized almost continually in a variety of hospitals and sanatoria(休养所) for the previous thirteen years. However, largely because of superior(更强的) psychiatric care that she had received from other psychiatrists during these years she was finally beginning to improve. For some months during our work together she had demonstrated an increasing capacity to trust trustworthy people, to distinguish between trustworthy and untrustworthy people, to accept the fact that she had a schizophrenic illness and would need to exert(施加) a great deal of self-discipline for the rest of her life to deal with this illness, to respect herself, and to do what was necessary to care for herself without having to rely on others to continually nurture her. Because of this great progress I felt the moment was soon at hand when Susan would be able to leave the hospital and for the first time in her life lead and maintain a successful independent existence. It was at this point that I met with her parents, an attractive, wealthy couple in their mid-fifties. I was very happy to describe to them Susan’s enormous progress and explain in detail the reasons for my optimism. But much to my surprise, soon after I began to do this, Susan’s mother started to cry silently and continued to cry as I went on with my hopeful message. At first I thought perhaps her tears were tears of joy, but it was clear from her expression that she was indeed feeling sad. Finally I said, “I’m puzzled, Mrs. X. I’ve been telling you things today that are most hopeful, yet you seem to be feeling sad.”
“Of course I’m sad,” she replied. “I just can’t help crying when I think of all poor Susan has to suffer.”
I then went into a lengthy explanation to the effect that while it was quite true Susan had suffered a good deal in the course of her illness, she had also clearly learned a good deal from this suffering, had come out on top of it and, in my estimation, was unlikely to suffer any more in the future than any other adult. Indeed, she might suffer considerably(非常) less than any of us because of the wisdom she had gained from her battle with schizophrenia(精神分裂症). Mrs. X. continued to weep silently.
“Frankly, I’m still puzzled, Mrs. X.,” I said. “Over the past thirteen years you must have participated in at least a dozen conferences like this with Susan’s psychiatrists, and from what I know, none of them was as optimistic as this one. Don’t you feel gladness as well as sadness?”
“I can only think of how difficult life is for Susan,” Mrs. X. replied tearfully.
“Look, Mrs. X.,” I said, “is there anything I could say to you about Susan that would make you feel encouraged and happy about her?”
“Poor Susan’s life is so full of pain,” Mrs. X. whimpered(啜泣着说).
Suddenly I realized that Mrs. X. was not crying for Susan but for herself. She was crying for her own pain and suffering. Yet the conference was about Susan, not about her, and she was doing her crying in Susan’s name. How could she do this, I wondered. And then I realized that Mrs. X. was actually not able to distinguish between Susan and herself. What she felt, Susan must feel. She was using Susan as a vehicle to express her own needs. She was not doing this consciously or maliciously(恶意地); on an emotional level she could not, in fact perceive Susan as having an identity separate from her own.
Susan was she. In her mind Susan as a unique, different individual with a unique, different path in life simply did not exist-nor, probably, did anyone else. Intellectually Mrs. X. could recognize other people as being different from herself. But on a more basic level other people did not exist for her. In the depths of her mind the entirety(全部) of the world was she, Mrs. X., she alone.
In subsequent experiences I frequently found the mothers of schizophrenic(精神分裂症的) children to be extraordinarily narcissistic(自恋的) individuals like Mrs. X. This is not to say that such mothers are always narcissistic or that narcissistic mothers can’t raise non-schizophrenic children. Schizophrenia is an extremely complex disorder, with obvious genetic(genetic ) as well as environmental(与周围环境有关的) determinants(决定因素). But one can imagine the depth of confusion in Susan’s childhood produced by her mother’s narcissism, and one can objectively see this confusion when actually observing narcissistic mother interact(互动) with their children. On an afternoon when Mrs. X. was feeling sorry for herself Susan might have come home from school bringing some of her paintings the teacher had graded A. If she told her mother proudly how she was progressing in an, Mrs. X. might well respond: “Susan, go take a nap. You shouldn’t get yourself so exhausted(筋疲力尽的) over your work in school. The school system is no good anymore. They don’t care for children anymore.” On the other hand, on an afternoon when Mrs. X. was in a very cheerful mood Susan might have come home in tears over the fact that she had been bullied(被欺负) by several boys on the school bus, and Mrs. X. could say: “Isn’t it fortunate that Mr. Jones is such a good bus driver? He is so nice and patient with all you children and your roughhousing(大吵大闹). I think you should be sure to give him a nice little present at Christmastime.” Since they do not perceive others as others but only as extensions of themselves, narcissistic individuals lack the capacity for empathy, which is the capacity to feel what another is feeling. Lacking empathy, narcissistic parents usually respond inappropriately to their children on an emotional level and fail to offer any recognition(识别) or verification(证明) of their children’s feelings. It is no wonder, then, that such children grow up with grave(严重的) difficulties in recognizing, accepting and hence managing their own feelings.
While not usually as narcissistic as Mrs. X., the vast(广大的) majority of parents fail in some degree to adequately recognize or fully appreciate the unique individuality or “otherness” of their children. Common examples abound(大量存在). Parents will say of a child, “He’s a chip off the old block(酷似双亲)” or to a child, “You’re just like your Uncle Jim,” as if their children are some genetic copy of themselves or the family, when the facts of genetic combinations(组合) are such that all children genetically are extremely different from either of their parents and all of their forebears(祖先). Athletic(运动员的) fathers push their scholarly(勤奋好学的) sons into football and scholarly fathers push their athletic sons into books, causing(成为…的原因) the sons much unnecessary guilt(罪责) and turmoil(混乱). A general’s wife complains about her seventeen-year-old daughter: “When she’s home, Sally sits in her room all the time writing sad poetry. It’s morbid(病态的), Doctor. And she absolutely refuses to have a coming-out(女子初入社交界) party.” I’m afraid that she’s seriously ill.” After interviewing Sally, a charming and vivacious(活泼的) young woman who is on the honor roll(荣誉榜上) at school and has lots of friends, I tell her parents that I think Sally is perfectly healthy and suggest that perhaps they should lessen(缩小) their pressure on her to be a carbon copy of themselves. They leave to look for another psychiatrist, one who might be willing to pronounce(正式宣布) Sally’s differences deviancies(偏差现象).
Adolescents frequently complain that they are disciplined not out of genuine concern but because of parental fear that they will give their parents a bad image. “My parents are continually after me to cut my hair,” adolescent boys used to say a few years ago. “They can’t explain why long hair is bad for me. They just don’t want other people to see they’ve got long-haired kids. They don’t really give a shit about me. All they are really caring about is their own image.” Such adolescent resentment is usually justified(合乎情理的). Their parents generally do in fact fail to appreciate the unique individuality of their children, and instead regard their children as extensions of themselves, in much the same way as their fine clothes and their neatly(整齐地) manicured(修剪整齐的) lawns and their polished cars are extensions of themselves which represent their status(地位) to the world. It is to these milder(较温暖的) but nonetheless destructive common forms of parental narcissism that Kahlil Gibran addresses(谈吐) himself in what are perhaps the finest words ever written about child-raising:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing(渴望) for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell(居住) in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive(力争) to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward not tarries(逗留) with yesterday.
You are the bow from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer(弓箭手) sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might(威力) that His arrow may go swift(迅速的) and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable(稳健的).
The difficulty that humans so generally seem to have in fully appreciating the separateness of those who they are close to interferes(干涉) not only with their parenting but with all their intimate(亲密的) relationships, including marriage. Not too long ago in a couples group I heard one of the members state that the “purpose and function” of his wife was to keep their house neat and him well fed. I was aghast(吃惊的) at what seemed to me his painfully blatant(公然的) male chauvinism(沙文主义). I thought I might demonstrate this to him by asking the other members of the group to state how they perceived the purpose and function of their spouses. To my horror(震惊) the six others, male and female alike, gave very similar answers. All of them defined the purpose and function of their husband or wives in reference to themselves; all of them failed to perceive that their own mates(伴侣) might have an existence basically separate from their own or any kind of destiny(命运) apart from their marriage. “Good grief(天哪！),” I exclaimed, “it’s no wonder that you are all having difficulties in your marriages, and you’ll continue to have difficulties until you come to recognize that each of you has your own separate destiny(命运) to fulfill.” The group felt not only chastised(指责) but profoundly(极大地) confused by my pronouncement(声明). Somewhat belligerently(好战地) they asked me to define the purse and function of my wife. “The purpose and function of Lily,” I responded, “is to grow to be the most of which she is capable, not for my benefit but for her own and to the glory of God(神的荣耀).” The concept remained alien(像外星人的) to them for some time, however.
The problem of separateness in close relationships has bedeviled(使痛苦) mankind through the ages. However, it has received more attention from a political standpoint(立场) than from a marital(婚姻的) one. Pure communism(共产主义), for instance, expresses a philosophy not unlike that of the aforementioned couples-namely, that the purpose and function of the individual is to serve the relationship, the group, the collective(集体), the society. Only the destiny of the state is considered; the destiny of the individual is believed to be of non consequence(结果). Pure capitalism(资本主义), on the other hand, espouses(支持) the destiny of the individual even when it is at the expense of(以……为代价) the relationship, the group, the collective, the society. Widows and orphans may starve, but this should not prevent the individual entrepreneur(企业家) from enjoying all the fruits(成果) of his or her individual initiative(主动性). It should be obvious to any discerning(有辨识能力的) mind that neither of these pure solutions to the problem of separateness within relationships will be successful. The individual’s health depends upon the health of the society; the health of the society depends upon the health of its individuals. When dealing with couples my wife and I draw the analogy(类比) between marriage and a base camp(大本营) for mountain climbing. If one wants to climb mountains one must have a good base camp, a place where there are shelters and provisions, where one may receive nurture and rest before one ventures(冒险) forth again to seek another summit(顶峰). Successful mountain climbers know that they must spend at least as much time, if not more, in tending to(照顾) their base camp as they actually do in climbing mountains, for their survival is dependent upon their seeing to it that their base camp is sturdily(坚毅地) constructed and well stocked(贮备).
A common and traditionally masculine(男子气概的) marital problem is created by the husband who, once he is married, devotes all his energies to climbing mountains and none to tending to his marriage, or base camp, expecting it to be there in perfect order whenever he chooses to return to it for rest and recreation without his assuming any responsibility for its maintenance. Sooner or later this “capitalist” approach to the problem fails and he returns to find his untended base camp a shambles(废墟), his neglected wife having been hospitalized for a nervous breakdown(精神崩溃), having run off with another man, or in some other way having renounced(声明放弃) her job as camp caretaker(守护者). An equally common and traditionally feminine(女性特有的) marital problem is created by the wife who, once she is married, feels that the goal of her life has been achieved. To her the base camp is the peak. She cannot understand or empathize(有同感) with her husband’s need for achievements(成就) and experiences beyond the marriage and reacts to them with jealousy(嫉妒) and never-ending demands that he devote(致力) increasingly more energy to the home. Like other “communist” resolutions of the problem, this one creates a relationship that is suffocating(令人窒息的) and stultifying(乏味得使人呆滞的), from which the husband, feeling trapped and limited, may likely flee in a moment of “mid-life crisis.” The women’s liberation movement has been helpful in pointing the way to what is obviously the only ideal resolution: marriage as a truly cooperative institution, requiring great mutual contributions(贡献) and care, time and energy, but existing for the primary purpose of nurturing each of the participants for individual journeys toward his or her own individual peaks of spiritual growth. Male and female both must tend(照顾) the hearth and both must venture forth.
As an adolescent I used to thrill(非常激动) to be words of love the early American poet Ann Bradstreet spoke to her husband: “If ever two were one, then we.”
As I have grown, however, I have come to realize that it is the separateness of the partners that enriches(浓缩) the union. Great marriages cannot be constructed by individuals who are terrified by their basic aloneness, as so commonly is the case, and seek a merging in marriage. Genuine love not only respects the individuality of the other but actually seeks to cultivate(开垦) it, even at the risk of separation or loss. The ultimate goal of life remains the spiritual growth of the individual, the solitary journey to peaks that can be climbed only alone. Significant journeys cannot be accomplished without the nurture provided by a successful marriage or a successful society. Marriage and society exist for the basic purpose of nurturing such individual journeys. But, as is(本来就是这样) the case with all genuine love, “sacrifices” on behalf of the growth of the other result in equal or greater growth of the self. It is the return of the individual to the nurturing marriage or society from the peaks he or she has traveled alone which serves to elevate(提升) that marriage or that society to new heights. In this way individual growth and societal growth are interdependent(相互依赖的), but it is always and inevitably lonely out on the growing edge(在成长的边缘). It is from the loneliness of his wisdom that once again the prophet(先知) of Kahlil Gibran speaks to us concerning marriage:
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you
Love one another, but make not a bond(枷锁) of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another or your bread but eat not from the same loaf
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute(琵琶) are alone though they quiver(颤音) with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain(包含) your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars(柱子) of the temple stand apart,
And the oak(橡树) tree and the cypress(柏树) grow not in each other’s shadow.