Once, I had a conversation with a blind man, and it was a deeply moving dialogue.
He sat there, his eyes vacant and staring ahead, like a lonely Wanderer shrouded in darkness.
He said that blind people share a common trait — cowardice. As he spoke, there was a hint of shame in his voice, as if being timid were an unforgivable sin.
But I sincerely wished him well.
He found it strange; what was there to bless about being timid?
His expression resembled that of someone lost in the dark who suddenly hears an illogical direction.
I said that timidity holds great significance; it is a psychological trait with profound meaning in life. It is like a small light in the darkness—though faint, it can illuminate the path at critical moments.
When my son was around seven or eight years old, he was very timid. Whenever he felt afraid, I would pull him aside as if guarding a precious treasure.
Looking into his innocent yet fearful eyes, I said earnestly, “Child, congratulations! You are truly remarkable; you have grown. You are capable of feeling fear.”
At first, my son was very surprised. His wide eyes were filled with confusion, like a calm lake disturbed by a thrown stone.
He asked me why all his teachers encouraged him to be brave while I felt proud of his timidity.
I replied that fear is incredibly important. Imagine climbing a mountain during the day, with sunlight shining down and everything clearly visible around you. You might move swiftly, like a little deer running freely across the grassland, full of vitality and confidence.
However, if it were night and everything around you was pitch black, your courage would naturally diminish as you lose your judgment of the external world.
This is necessary; it forces you to tread carefully with every step, like an explorer navigating a path filled with traps. If you climbed the mountain at night as confidently as during the day, you would surely fall, like a blind bird crashing into an invisible wall.
What does this indicate? It shows that heaven cares for us; it has given us an incredibly important gift—timidity.
Timidity is heaven's reminder about life. It acts like a silent guardian angel, urging you to protect yourself and cherish your own worth.
People must move forward, and courage is certainly important in that journey, just as a ship needs sails to navigate the sea.
However, we must first clarify one question—Is your bravery blind?
Life is never isolated; it is intricately connected to its surroundings. Among these connections, some are beneficial to life, like sunlight and dew for flowers; others are harmful, like strong winds and heavy rains for fragile seedlings.
This requires us to be rational and discerning. When we handle difficulties rationally and then muster our courage, I call that bravery.
It is like an experienced helmsman who raises the sails and bravely moves forward only after clearly understanding the course ahead and the hidden reefs.
Conversely, if you act without reason, hastily and blindly, I must ask—what is the meaning of such bravery? It is akin to a person without a sense of direction stumbling around in the dark, only to find themselves in danger.
The significance of fear lies here. It makes you stop, like an emergency brake, allowing you to analyze the external situation and identify where the obstacles are. This is similar to a Treasure Hunter carefully surveying the terrain before searching for treasure. Then you can seek solutions to overcome those obstacles before taking action; that is what is valuable.
A well-planned campaign involves understanding the enemy's layout before formulating a strategy and then launching an attack.
You might say that it is understandable for a blind person to feel fear because they cannot see. But we are able-bodied; we can see everything. Why should we still feel fear? I would like to counter with a question: Are you really not blind? Can you see the back of your own head?
You cannot see it. That is called limitation.
It is like standing in a vast maze, thinking you can see all the paths when in fact you can only see a small part right in front of you.
There are many sounds in this world that we cannot hear, but dogs can hear them.
A dog's ears act like sensitive radar, capturing subtle sounds that we cannot perceive, such as the movements of small animals from afar.
There are many scents in this world that we cannot smell, but cats can detect them. A cat's tiny nose functions like a super detector, able to sniff out the scent of mice hidden in corners. There are also many special colors in this world that we cannot see, but birds can perceive them.
A bird's eyes act like a magical filter, revealing vibrant colors hidden within the monotonous world we see. Simply put, science has informed us that there is much information in this world that humans cannot capture at all.
Moreover, there are many spirits we cannot comprehend, many concepts we fail to grasp, and many thoughts that elude us. It is like standing before a towering edifice of knowledge; we may think we have seen the whole picture when in reality we have only touched a few bricks.
We should not think that we know everything or have understood everything, and then, with immense courage and recklessness, rush forward only to scatter in confusion; that can be quite dangerous.
A group of directionless ants blindly runs around, following their companions in chaos.
We should be more humble towards this world, not so confident, and not think that we hold the truth. Each of us has blind spots; this is the biggest realization I had after finishing "Massage."
After completing "Massage," I experienced personal growth.
A book is truly nothing significant; my greatest comfort is that I calmly acknowledge one thing: I am a person with disabilities.
In this world, there are many things I cannot see, hear, or smell, and many things I will never comprehend in my lifetime.
The summer insect cannot speak of ice; I am that summer insect.
I feel like a tiny speck of dust standing before the vast universe, realizing my insignificance.
Of course, there are regrets. As a "person with disabilities," I have yet to establish a mindset that matches my condition: my sense of fear is still insufficient.
Since every life has its limitations, let us calmly remind ourselves that there are spirits three feet above the ground.
It is like planting a seed of reverence in our hearts, allowing us to maintain humility and vigilance when facing this infinite world.
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