美丽心灵的永恒阳光

“我明白，根本原因是她非常不自信。”

“她玩叛逆，显示精神上的自由。”

“她识字不多，有时候在公共场所她真的会让我感觉到尴尬。”

“可是她充满活力，她在你身边会让你觉得生活不再是那么没有意义没有欢乐。”

 

“他是个十足的闷罐子。”

“他那可怜巴巴、像哭那样的抱歉的笑容。见鬼的——就像一只受伤的小狗。”

“望着我，好像我应该为自己出去寻找人生快乐而感到羞耻。”

“知道吗？乔尔属于那种一辈子什么也不肯改变的人。”

 

乔尔是一个作家（猜测），而克莱门蒂娜是一个书店的售货员。

他们的第一次相遇在海边，乔尔不言语地坐在阶梯上，而克莱门蒂娜说“我能不能吃一块鸡肉”说话的同时就拿了一块吃起来。“没等我回答，你就拿了去。这显得有些亲密——好像我们已经是恋人一样。”

他们的相爱是注定的。一个极其拘谨沉重，一个极其自由沉重。他们都向往着彼此，因为相信彼此的性格可以互相拯救。尽管生活上有很多难以磨合的地方。

如果没有那家能帮人消除记忆的公司，没有那场乔尔与自己记忆的大战，乔尔或许也不能发现自己对于克莱门蒂娜的深爱。他穷尽一切所能来挽救自己对她的记忆。在他好不容易再次睁开眼却被医生注射进入昏睡之前，那一滴从眼角留下的眼泪见证了一切。

我爱你，我爱你。我不要忘记你，不能忘记你。

 

那些轰然倒塌的场景，不断转移，所有所有的都在遗失，记忆在崩解。乔尔带着克莱门蒂娜不断躲藏，在缝隙之间我们看到他们曾经的过往。而乔尔无法控制住局面，不断遗失她。

在那白色的书店里。

克莱门蒂娜说：“乔尔，我不是一个抽象的概念。你要牢记这点。很多男人把我当成一个概念或者认为我能让他们的生活圆满，焕发活力。可是我只是一个茫然无措的女孩，想寻找自己内心的宁静。所以不要再把你的心加给我。”

这是克莱门蒂娜说的话，不过不是在现实里，而是在乔尔的自我反省中。

当他意识到自己曾经对她的爱是出于用她来让自己生活圆满焕发活力的目的时，他就真的明白过来了，自己不够尊重她的存在，只是想把她来为自己服务，所以他们之间才有这样那样的矛盾，所以她的缺点他才那么计较，自以为自己有多爱她，一直以为只有她任性自私，其实最自私的原来是自己。

这场消除记忆的作战，让乔尔深切的认识了自己，反省了自己与克莱门蒂娜的爱。

其实是一场爱的救赎。

 

所以最后。他们再次相遇。而当他们又争吵的时候，乔尔走了出来喊着，“等等，等等。”

“等什么？”

“我也不知道，我就是想叫你等等。”

他们都接受了彼此。这次是真正的接受。

“我不是一个抽象的概念，乔尔。我只是一个困惑的女孩，想要寻找内心的宁静。我并不完美。”

“这一刻我还没有发现你有什么我不喜欢的地方。”

“会发现的。到时你会胡思乱想。而我跟你在一起会乏味，会觉得落入圈套，因为我总是这样。”

......

“OK”乔尔微笑着说，深情地看着她。

克莱门蒂娜愣住了。

“OK”克莱门蒂娜边哭边笑着说道。

 

我们知道，他们不会再像以前，他们会爱很久，他们的爱会很久很久。

 

这是很好的一部爱情片，是只关乎爱情的。我从中明白了，对于很多人，爱情，只是两个人互相寻求的平静。而不是自己臆想中的自以为是的，拯救。在这部电影里，拯救是脆弱的，是自私的。我也在生活中，慢慢消散了对于拯救的信仰。没有谁会愿意在自己脆弱的心上再加上另一个人的心的重量，也没有这个能力。我们能做的不是将自己的重量交给别人，而是彼此扶持着，尽量幸福地承担起重量，往前走。

 

在Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind 里引用了一些quotations 其中一首诗的一段 作为朦胧的启发点
现在把这首长诗贴出来 来自Alexander Pope的Eloisa to Abelard

In these deep solitudes and awful cells,
    Where heav'nly-pensive contemplation dwells,
    And ever-musing melancholy reigns;
    What means this tumult in a vestal's veins?
    Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat?
    Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat?
    Yet, yet I love!—From Abelard it came,
    And Eloisa yet must kiss the name.

        Dear fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd,
  Nor pass these lips in holy silence seal'd.
  Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise,
  Where mix'd with God's, his lov'd idea lies:
  O write it not, my hand—the name appears
  Already written—wash it out, my tears!
  In vain lost Eloisa weeps and prays,
  Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys.

      Relentless walls! whose darksome round contains
  Repentant sighs, and voluntary pains:
  Ye rugged rocks! which holy knees have worn;
  Ye grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid thorn!
  Shrines! where their vigils pale-ey'd virgins keep,
  And pitying saints, whose statues learn to weep!
  Though cold like you, unmov'd, and silent grown,
  I have not yet forgot myself to stone.
  All is not Heav'n's while Abelard has part,
  Still rebel nature holds out half my heart;
  Nor pray'rs nor fasts its stubborn pulse restrain,
  Nor tears, for ages, taught to flow in vain.

      Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose,
  That well-known name awakens all my woes.
  Oh name for ever sad! for ever dear!
  Still breath'd in sighs, still usher'd with a tear.
  I tremble too, where'er my own I find,
  Some dire misfortune follows close behind.
  Line after line my gushing eyes o'erflow,
  Led through a sad variety of woe:
  Now warm in love, now with'ring in thy bloom,
  Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!
  There stern religion quench'd th' unwilling flame,
  There died the best of passions, love and fame.

      Yet write, oh write me all, that I may join
  Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine.
  Nor foes nor fortune take this pow'r away;
  And is my Abelard less kind than they?
  Tears still are mine, and those I need not spare,
  Love but demands what else were shed in pray'r;
  No happier task these faded eyes pursue;
  To read and weep is all they now can do.

      Then share thy pain, allow that sad relief;
  Ah, more than share it! give me all thy grief.
  Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid,
  Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid;
  They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires,
  Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires,
  The virgin's wish without her fears impart,
  Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart,
  Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,
  And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.

      Thou know'st how guiltless first I met thy flame,
    When Love approach'd me under Friendship's name;
  My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind,
  Some emanation of th' all-beauteous Mind.
  Those smiling eyes, attemp'ring ev'ry day,
  Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day.
  Guiltless I gaz'd; heav'n listen'd while you sung;
  And truths divine came mended from that tongue.
  From lips like those what precept fail'd to move?
  Too soon they taught me 'twas no sin to love.
  Back through the paths of pleasing sense I ran,
  Nor wish'd an Angel whom I lov'd a Man.
  Dim and remote the joys of saints I see;
  Nor envy them, that heav'n I lose for thee.

      How oft, when press'd to marriage, have I said,
  Curse on all laws but those which love has made!
  Love, free as air, at sight of human ties,
  Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies,
  Let wealth, let honour, wait the wedded dame,
  August her deed, and sacred be her fame;
  Before true passion all those views remove,
  Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to Love?
  The jealous God, when we profane his fires,
  Those restless passions in revenge inspires;
  And bids them make mistaken mortals groan,
  Who seek in love for aught but love alone.
  Should at my feet the world's great master fall,
  Himself, his throne, his world, I'd scorn 'em all:
  Not Caesar's empress would I deign to prove;
  No, make me mistress to the man I love;
  If there be yet another name more free,
  More fond than mistress, make me that to thee!
  Oh happy state! when souls each other draw,
  When love is liberty, and nature, law:
  All then is full, possessing, and possess'd,
  No craving void left aching in the breast:
  Ev'n thought meets thought, ere from the lips it part,
  And each warm wish springs mutual from the heart.
  This sure is bliss (if bliss on earth there be)
  And once the lot of Abelard and me.

      Alas, how chang'd! what sudden horrors rise!
  A naked lover bound and bleeding lies!
  Where, where was Eloise? her voice, her hand,
  Her poniard, had oppos'd the dire command.
  Barbarian, stay! that bloody stroke restrain;
  The crime was common, common be the pain.
  I can no more; by shame, by rage suppress'd,
  Let tears, and burning blushes speak the rest.

    Canst thou forget that sad, that solemn day,
  When victims at yon altar's foot we lay?
  Canst thou forget what tears that moment fell,
  When, warm in youth, I bade the world farewell?
  As with cold lips I kiss'd the sacred veil,
  The shrines all trembl'd, and the lamps grew pale:
  Heav'n scarce believ'd the conquest it survey'd,
  And saints with wonder heard the vows I made.
  Yet then, to those dread altars as I drew,
  Not on the Cross my eyes were fix'd, but you:
  Not grace, or zeal, love only was my call,
  And if I lose thy love, I lose my all.
  Come! with thy looks, thy words, relieve my woe;
  Those still at least are left thee to bestow.
  Still on that breast enamour'd let me lie,
  Still drink delicious poison from thy eye,
  Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be press'd;
  Give all thou canst—and let me dream the rest.
  Ah no! instruct me other joys to prize,
  With other beauties charm my partial eyes,
  Full in my view set all the bright abode,
  And make my soul quit Abelard for God.

    Ah, think at least thy flock deserves thy care,
  Plants of thy hand, and children of thy pray'r.
  From the false world in early youth they fled,
  By thee to mountains, wilds, and deserts led.
  You rais'd these hallow'd walls; the desert smil'd,
  And Paradise was open'd in the wild.
  No weeping orphan saw his father's stores
  Our shrines irradiate, or emblaze the floors;
  No silver saints, by dying misers giv'n,
  Here brib'd the rage of ill-requited heav'n:
  But such plain roofs as piety could raise,
  And only vocal with the Maker's praise.
  In these lone walls (their days eternal bound)
  These moss-grown domes with spiry turrets crown'd,
  Where awful arches make a noonday night,
  And the dim windows shed a solemn light;
  Thy eyes diffus'd a reconciling ray,
  And gleams of glory brighten'd all the day.
  But now no face divine contentment wears,
  'Tis all blank sadness, or continual tears.
  See how the force of others' pray'rs I try,
  (O pious fraud of am'rous charity!)
  But why should I on others' pray'rs depend?
  Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend!
  Ah let thy handmaid, sister, daughter move,
  And all those tender names in one, thy love!
  The darksome pines that o'er yon rocks reclin'd
  Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind,
  The wand'ring streams that shine between the hills,
  The grots that echo to the tinkling rills,
  The dying gales that pant upon the trees,
  The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze;
  No more these scenes my meditation aid,
  Or lull to rest the visionary maid.
  But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves,
  Long-sounding aisles, and intermingled graves,
  Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws
  A death-like silence, and a dread repose:
  Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene,
  Shades ev'ry flow'r, and darkens ev'ry green,
  Deepens the murmur of the falling floods,
  And breathes a browner horror on the woods.

    Yet here for ever, ever must I stay;
  Sad proof how well a lover can obey!
  Death, only death, can break the lasting chain;
  And here, ev'n then, shall my cold dust remain,
  Here all its frailties, all its flames resign,
  And wait till 'tis no sin to mix with thine.

    Ah wretch! believ'd the spouse of God in vain,
  Confess'd within the slave of love and man.
  Assist me, Heav'n! but whence arose that pray'r?
  Sprung it from piety, or from despair?
  Ev'n here, where frozen chastity retires,
  Love finds an altar for forbidden fires.
  I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought;
  I mourn the lover, not lament the fault;
  I view my crime, but kindle at the view,
  Repent old pleasures, and solicit new;
  Now turn'd to Heav'n, I weep my past offence,
  Now think of thee, and curse my innocence.
  Of all affliction taught a lover yet,
  'Tis sure the hardest science to forget!
  How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense,
  And love th' offender, yet detest th' offence?
  How the dear object from the crime remove,
  Or how distinguish penitence from love?
  Unequal task! a passion to resign,
  For hearts so touch'd, so pierc'd, so lost as mine.
  Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state,
  How often must it love, how often hate!
  How often hope, despair, resent, regret,
  Conceal, disdain—do all things but forget.
  But let Heav'n seize it, all at once 'tis fir'd;
  Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but inspir'd!
  Oh come! oh teach me nature to subdue,
  Renounce my love, my life, myself—and you.
  Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he
  Alone can rival, can succeed to thee.

    How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
  The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
  Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
  Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;
  Labour and rest, that equal periods keep;
  "Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;"
  Desires compos'd, affections ever ev'n,
  Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heav'n.
  Grace shines around her with serenest beams,
  And whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dreams.
  For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms,
  And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes,
  For her the Spouse prepares the bridal ring,
  For her white virgins hymeneals sing,
  To sounds of heav'nly harps she dies away,
  And melts in visions of eternal day.

    Far other dreams my erring soul employ,
  Far other raptures, of unholy joy:
  When at the close of each sad, sorrowing day,
  Fancy restores what vengeance snatch'd away,
  Then conscience sleeps, and leaving nature free,
  All my loose soul unbounded springs to thee.
  Oh curs'd, dear horrors of all-conscious night!
  How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight!
  Provoking Daemons all restraint remove,
  And stir within me every source of love.
  I hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy charms,
  And round thy phantom glue my clasping arms.
  I wake—no more I hear, no more I view,
  The phantom flies me, as unkind as you.
  I call aloud; it hears not what I say;
  I stretch my empty arms; it glides away.
  To dream once more I close my willing eyes;
  Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise!
  Alas, no more—methinks we wand'ring go
  Through dreary wastes, and weep each other's woe,
  Where round some mould'ring tower pale ivy creeps,
  And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps.
  Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies;
  Clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds arise.
  I shriek, start up, the same sad prospect find,
  And wake to all the griefs I left behind.

    For thee the fates, severely kind, ordain
  A cool suspense from pleasure and from pain;
  Thy life a long, dead calm of fix'd repose;
  No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows.
  Still as the sea, ere winds were taught to blow,
  Or moving spirit bade the waters flow;
  Soft as the slumbers of a saint forgiv'n,
  And mild as opening gleams of promis'd heav'n.

    Come, Abelard! for what hast thou to dread?
  The torch of Venus burns not for the dead.
  Nature stands check'd; Religion disapproves;
  Ev'n thou art cold—yet Eloisa loves.
  Ah hopeless, lasting flames! like those that burn
  To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn.

    What scenes appear where'er I turn my view?
  The dear ideas, where I fly, pursue,
  Rise in the grove, before the altar rise,
  Stain all my soul, and wanton in my eyes.
  I waste the matin lamp in sighs for thee,
  Thy image steals between my God and me,
  Thy voice I seem in ev'ry hymn to hear,
  With ev'ry bead I drop too soft a tear.
  When from the censer clouds of fragrance roll,
  And swelling organs lift the rising soul,
  One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight,
  Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight:
  In seas of flame my plunging soul is drown'd,
  While altars blaze, and angels tremble round.

    While prostrate here in humble grief I lie,
  Kind, virtuous drops just gath'ring in my eye,
  While praying, trembling, in the dust I roll,
  And dawning grace is op'ning on my soul:
  Come, if thou dar'st, all charming as thou art!
  Oppose thyself to Heav'n; dispute my heart;
  Come, with one glance of those deluding eyes
  Blot out each bright idea of the skies;
  Take back that grace, those sorrows, and those tears;
  Take back my fruitless penitence and pray'rs;
  Snatch me, just mounting, from the blest abode;
  Assist the fiends, and tear me from my God!

    No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole;
  Rise Alps between us! and whole oceans roll!
  Ah, come not, write not, think not once of me,
  Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee.
  Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign;
  Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine.
  Fair eyes, and tempting looks (which yet I view!)
  Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu!
  Oh Grace serene! oh virtue heav'nly fair!
  Divine oblivion of low-thoughted care!
  Fresh blooming hope, gay daughter of the sky!
  And faith, our early immortality!
  Enter, each mild, each amicable guest;
  Receive, and wrap me in eternal rest!

    See in her cell sad Eloisa spread,
  Propp'd on some tomb, a neighbour of the dead.
  In each low wind methinks a spirit calls,
  And more than echoes talk along the walls.
  Here, as I watch'd the dying lamps around,
  From yonder shrine I heard a hollow sound.
  "Come, sister, come!" (it said, or seem'd to say)
  "Thy place is here, sad sister, come away!
  Once like thyself, I trembled, wept, and pray'd,
  Love's victim then, though now a sainted maid:
  But all is calm in this eternal sleep;
  Here grief forgets to groan, and love to weep,
  Ev'n superstition loses ev'ry fear:
  For God, not man, absolves our frailties here."

    I come, I come! prepare your roseate bow'rs,
  Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flow'rs.
  Thither, where sinners may have rest, I go,
  Where flames refin'd in breasts seraphic glow:
  Thou, Abelard! the last sad office pay,
  And smooth my passage to the realms of day;
  See my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll,
  Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul!
  Ah no—in sacred vestments may'st thou stand,
  The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand,
  Present the cross before my lifted eye,
  Teach me at once, and learn of me to die.
  Ah then, thy once-lov'd Eloisa see!
  It will be then no crime to gaze on me.
  See from my cheek the transient roses fly!
  See the last sparkle languish in my eye!
  Till ev'ry motion, pulse, and breath be o'er;
  And ev'n my Abelard be lov'd no more.
  O Death all-eloquent! you only prove
  What dust we dote on, when 'tis man we love.

    Then too, when fate shall thy fair frame destroy,
  (That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy)
  In trance ecstatic may thy pangs be drown'd,
  Bright clouds descend, and angels watch thee round,
  From op'ning skies may streaming glories shine,
  And saints embrace thee with a love like mine.

    May one kind grave unite each hapless name,
  And graft my love immortal on thy fame!
  Then, ages hence, when all my woes are o'er,
  When this rebellious heart shall beat no more;
  If ever chance two wand'ring lovers brings
  To Paraclete's white walls and silver springs,
  O'er the pale marble shall they join their heads,
  And drink the falling tears each other sheds;
  Then sadly say, with mutual pity mov'd,
  "Oh may we never love as these have lov'd!"

  From the full choir when loud Hosannas rise,
  And swell the pomp of dreadful sacrifice,
  Amid that scene if some relenting eye
  Glance on the stone where our cold relics lie,
  Devotion's self shall steal a thought from Heav'n,
  One human tear shall drop and be forgiv'n.
  And sure, if fate some future bard shall join
  In sad similitude of griefs to mine,
  Condemn'd whole years in absence to deplore,
  And image charms he must behold no more;
  Such if there be, who loves so long, so well;
  Let him our sad, our tender story tell;
  The well-sung woes will soothe my pensive ghost;
  He best can paint 'em, who shall feel 'em most.

我用着一滴泪，怎样向你微笑？

然而你出现时，我隔着满眼的泪，破涕为笑。

那些记忆中灼灼的琐碎场景，全都是爱情的记号。爱情是个多俗气的字眼，掉在心里却逃不掉。渴望记住的每一个眼神、笑容、举动，都如同斜照进窗前的阳光，曾经点亮我的梦。但后来就像一场噩梦；我以为我努力奔跑，就能够逃脱身后渐渐轰塌的世界。

我拉着你冲向未知的黑暗，莽撞一如爱情。我不要忘记你。

到底有什么是真正重要的？如果我们可以重头遇见，一切错误就可以被修改。当我们在地铁上作为陌生人交换无关紧要的台词，那时我提起的名字在你的心里唤不起温柔的情绪。窗外的一切都在飞逝，像一起大笑嬉闹的时光。

然而还是会有这样的一天，我们会分开。我们庸俗地遇见，再庸俗地分开。我想用那样一种方式，科技的传统的魔术的哪怕是最恶俗的烧照片退礼物，也要将你从我的记忆中抹去。

疼的是我的心。

到底有多少念念不忘的日子，在身后拼命地追赶。我想那就只是爱情啊，在雪地上看星星，拿着一次性筷子吃中国菜，你的头发变换成不同的色彩；你的脾气很不好，笑容有些放肆；你在地铁上搭讪，你烂醉如泥，我们吵架，在街上亲吻，猜测彼此的小心思。我们的爱不能倾城，那温暖却永远留存在我的心中。

爱上你我以为爱上了全世界。我为你哭泣微笑愤怒失落。最后我累了，我走了。我曾爱你不计代价，但那是我们谁都不可逆转的曾经。

I did.

然而当我从窗边看见天空摇摇欲坠的清晨，一切都像一场噩梦，而我只想醒来。我渴望回到你身边。

就如同从来不曾分开。

跟我说再见吧，假装你曾那样说过。