We have all read exciting stories in which the protagonist lives only for a limited and specific period of time, sometimes as long as a year, sometimes as short as 24 hours. But we are always interested in discovering that those who are destined to die are those who have the freedom to choose, not those sentenced prisoners whose scope of activities is strictly limited. Such stories make us think about what we should do in similar situations. As mortal beings, what events, experiences, and interactions should we arrange in those final hours? What joy should we find when looking back on the past? What regret? Sometimes I think about how good it is to live each day as if we were going to die tomorrow. This attitude clearly emphasizes the value of life. We should live each day with grace, energy, and awareness of fun. And as time goes by, and as we often look to the days and months ahead, these are often lost. Of course, there are also those who would like to live according to the Epicurean creed of "Eat, drink, and be merry." (Annotation: Epicurus was an ancient Greek philosopher. He believed that the main purpose of life is enjoyment, and the highest enjoyment can only be obtained through reasonable life, such as self-control. Because the purpose of enjoyment in life has been overemphasized, and to achieve this The means to the end are ignored, so the followers of Epicurus have now become hedonists (their creed is: "Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die"), but most people are still facing death. tortured by necessity. In stories, the doomed hero is often saved at the last moment by some sudden change of fate, but almost always his values ??are changed. They become more appreciative of the meaning of life and its eternal spiritual value. It is not uncommon to see those who live or have lived in the shadow of death lending a sweetness to everything they do. However, most of us take life for granted. We know that one day we will die, but often we imagine that day in the distant future. When we are healthy and healthy, death is almost unthinkable and we rarely think about it. Time stretches with endless prospects, so we do trivial things, barely aware of our tired attitude towards life. I am afraid that the same laziness becomes a trait that exploits all our instincts and feelings. Only the deaf value hearing, and only the blind appreciate the blessings of being able to see. This conclusion is particularly suitable for those who lose their sight and hearing in adulthood, while those who have never suffered from visual or hearing impairment These God-given faculties are seldom fully utilized. They look around vaguely and listen to different sounds, without any focus or appreciation. It’s the same old saying, they don’t appreciate all our senses until they lose them, and they don’t realize our health until they get sick. hour. I have often thought that it would be a blessing if each man were blinded and deafened for a time in his early adulthood, that darkness would teach him to appreciate sight more, and silence would teach him to enjoy sound. From time to time I have asked my friends who can see to find out what they see. Recently, a very good friend of mine came to see me. She had just returned from a long walk in the forest. I asked her what she had seen, and she replied, "Nothing special." If I wasn't used to hearing this answer , I may not believe it, because I have been convinced of this situation for a long time: people who can see can’t see anything. How could it be that I walked alone in the woods for an hour without seeing anything of note? As a person who cannot see, I find many things that interest me just through touch. I feel the perfect symmetry of a leaf. I passed my hand lovingly over the glossy bark of a birch or the rough bark of a pine tree. In the spring, I touched the branches of the tree trunks and searched hopefully for the buds, which were the first signs of nature awakening after the harsh winter's slumber. I caressed the delightful velvety texture of the flower, felt its marvelous curls, and some of the wonders of nature revealed themselves to me. Sometimes, if I am very lucky, I place my hand gently on a small tree and feel the happy trembling of a loudly singing bird, and I happily let the cool water of the brook pass through my open arms. The fingers flowed over. To me, a lush carpet of pine needles or soft, springy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug. The spectacular and gorgeous display of the seasons is to me an exciting, endless drama. The performance of this drama flowed through the tips of my fingers. Sometimes I cry inside from the longing to see all these things. If by my touch alone I can feel so much pleasure, how much more beauty should be revealed by my sight. However, those who can see obviously see very little, and the scenes full of color and movement in the world are taken for granted. Perhaps this is the most unique characteristic of human nature; there is little appreciation for what we have; What you have is what you desire. However, it is a great pity that in a bright world, the gift of vision is only used as a convenience and not as a means to add happiness to life. If I were the president of a university, I would create a mandatory course on "How to Use Your Eyes."

The professor of this course should try to show his students how to add interest to their lives by seeing what passes before them. The professor should try to awaken in them dormant and idle talents. Perhaps if I were to use my eyes for, say, just 3 days, I could best illustrate this question by imagining what I most like to see. And, as I'm imagining, imagine you're thinking about this too. If you only have a little more than 3 days to see, how should you use your own eyes? If you face the darkness of the upcoming third night and know that the sun will never rise again for you, then how should you spend these precious three days? What is the thing you most want to look at? Of course, I will want most to see the things that have become dear to me during my years of darkness, and you will want to keep your eyes on the things that have become dear to you. That way you can remember them as you move into the long night that looms before you. If by some miracle I could see for three days and then was plunged into total darkness, I would divide that period into three parts.

Day One

On the first day, I want to see the people whose kindness, kindness, and friendship make my life worth living. First, I wish to gaze long and hard on the face of my dear teacher, Mrs. Anne Sullivan Macy. She came to me when I was a child and opened up the outside world to me. I shall not only see the outline of her face, that I may cherish it in my memory, but study her features and discover the living signs of the tenderness and patience of compassion with which she came to Complete the arduous task of educating me. I wished to see in her eyes the strength of character which enabled her to stand firm in the face of difficulties, and to see in her eyes the sympathy for all mankind which she so often revealed to me. I don't know what it is to look through the "window of the soul", that is, to see the heart of a friend through the eyes. I can only "see" the outline of a face with my fingertips. I can detect laughter, sadness, and many other distinct emotions. I get to know my friends by feeling their faces. However, I can't really picture their personalities by touch. Of course, I have some idea of ??their personalities through other means, through the thoughts they express to me, through any actions they show me. But I cannot have a deeper understanding of them, and that understanding, I believe, can be achieved by seeing them, by watching their reactions to various expressed thoughts and situations, and by paying attention to the reactions of their eyes and faces. obtained. I know the friends around me very well, because over the years they have revealed various aspects of themselves to me; however, I only have an incomplete impression of the casual friends. This impression comes again from a handshake, from the words I interpret from their lips through the tips of my fingers, or from the gentle strokes they make on my palm. Those of you who have sight can quickly understand the essence of what the other person means by observing the other person's subtle facial expressions, muscle tremors, and gesture swings. How easy and satisfying it is! However, have you ever thought of using your vision to grasp the external features of a person's face to see into the heart of a friend or acquaintance? I also want to ask you: Can you accurately describe the faces of five good friends? Some of you can, but many of you cannot. In one experiment, I asked husbands about the color of their wives' eyes. They often appeared embarrassed and confessed that they did not know. By the way, wives often complain that their husbands don't pay attention to the color of their new clothes and hats. and changes in home furnishings. Sighted people, whose eyes soon become accustomed to the routine of things around them, actually notice only the surprising and spectacular. Yet even when they behold the most magnificent spectacles, their eyes are languid. Court records reveal every day how inaccurate the "eyewitnesses" were. An event can be "seen" in several different ways by several witnesses. Some people see more than others, but few see everything within their sight. Ah, if you give me three days of light, how many things I will see! The first day will be a busy day. I will call all my dear friends here, look long into their faces, and impress upon my heart the outward signs of their inner beauty. I will also rest my gaze on a baby's face in order to be able to capture the wistful, innocent beauty that exists before the personal consciousness caused by life's conflicts is established. I will also look into the loyal and trusting eyes of my puppies - the dignified, quiet little Scotty Dartge, the strong and sensible Big Dern, and Helge, their enthusiasm, childishness and mischief. Friendship has given me great comfort. On this busy first day, I will also look at the simple little things in my room. I will look at the warm colors of the rug under my feet, the paintings on the walls, the small, intimate things that turn a house into a home. stuff. My eyes will fall with reverence on the Braille books I read, but I will be even more interested in the printed books read by people who can see. In the long dark night of my life, the books I have read and the books people have read to me have become a brilliant and huge beacon, pointing out to me the deepest channel of life and soul.

On the afternoon of my first day of sight, I would go on a hike into the forest and let my eyes revel in the beauty of nature, trying desperately for a few hours to absorb the glorious vastness that so often unfolds before sighted people. spectacle. On the way back from the forest outing, I want to walk on the path near the farm to see the horses working in the fields (perhaps I can only see a tractor) and the leisurely people living close to the land. Pray for the beautiful sunset. When dusk falls, I will feel the joy of seeing with artificial light. When nature announces the coming of darkness, man's genius creates light to extend his vision. On that first night of sight, I will lie awake, filled with memories of this day.

The next day

On the second day when I have vision, I will get up before dawn to see the moving miracle of night turning into day. I will look up in awe at the majestic panorama of dawn as the sun awakens the sleeping earth. On this day I will take a quick glance at the world, the world past and present. I want to see the wonders of human progress, the endless changes over the ages. How can so many years be compressed into one day? Through the museum, of course. I often visited the Museum of Natural History in New York and touched with my hands many of the exhibits on display there, but I had longed to see with my own eyes a brief history of the earth and its inhabitants—animals and humans depicted in their natural surroundings—displayed there. , fossils of huge dinosaurs and saber-toothed elephants, they roamed the earth long before humans appeared and conquered the animal kingdom with his short stature and powerful mind; the museum also realistically introduces animals, humans, and labor The development of the tools humans used to create a safe and secure home for themselves on this planet; the museum also explains countless other aspects of natural history. I wonder how many readers of this article have seen the various forms of living animals depicted in that attractive museum. Of course, many people don't have this opportunity, however, I believe many people who do have the opportunity don't take advantage of it. That's a really good place to use your eyes. You who have sight can spend many profitable days there, but I, with the help of the three visible ones in my imagination, can only take a quick glance. My next stop will be the Capital Museum of Art, because just as the Museum of Natural History shows the physical appearance of the world, the Capital Museum of Art shows the countless little facets of the human spirit. Throughout human history, our desire for artistic expression has been almost as compelling as our desire for food, shelter, and reproduction. Here, in the huge exhibition hall of the Capital Art Museum, the spirit of Egypt, Greece, and Rome is expressed in their art and displayed in front of me. I knew clearly through my hands the gods and goddesses of the ancient Nile kingdom. I touched the replica in the Parthenon and felt the rhythmic beauty of the Athenian charge warriors. Apollo, Venus, and Samoris, the winged goddess of victory, all fascinate me. Homer's gnarled, bearded face is dear to me because he also knew what it was to be blind. My hands linger on the realistic marble carvings of Rome and later periods. My hands have touched Michelangelo’s touching and heroic Moses stone statues. I feel Rodin’s power. I am in awe of the Goths’ love for wood carvings. of piety. These touchable works of art are of great significance to me. However, they are not so much for people to touch as they are for people to watch, and I can only guess at the beauty that I cannot see. I can admire the simple lines of a Greek vase, but I cannot see its decorative patterns. So, this day, give me light the next day, and I will search for the human soul through art. I see things that I know by touch. Even better, the entire magnificent world of painting will be opened to me, from early Italian art with its tranquil religious overtones to modernist art with its rhapsodic style. I will carefully observe the oil paintings of Raphael, Leonardo da Vinci, Titian, and Rembrandt. I want to feast my eyes on the warm colors of Veronesa, study the mysteries of El Greco, and re-see nature through the paintings of Corot. Ah, you people with eyes can appreciate such rich meaning and beauty in the art of all ages! During my brief visit to this temple of art I could not at all comment on the great world of art that lay before me. I would only be able to obtain a superficial impression. Artists tell me that in order to achieve deep and true appreciation of art, one must train the eye. One must learn through experience to judge the quality of line, composition, form, and color. What a blessing it would be if I had the vision to engage in such fascinating research! But, I hear, for many of you who have eyes for it, the world of art is still a world yet to be explored. I left the Capital Museum of Art very reluctantly, as it holds the key to beauty. However, people who can see often do not need to go to the Capital Art Museum to find this key to beauty. The same keys still await in smaller museums or even on the shelves of small libraries. However, in my imaginary limited time with vision, I should choose a key that can open the place with the greatest treasure in the shortest time. My second night of sight was to be spent in a theater or movie theater.

Even now I often attend various theater performances, but the plot must be spelled out in my hand by a companion. Yet, how I longed to see with my own eyes the charming grace of Hamlet, or the lively Falstaff in his bright Elizabethan costume! How I long to watch every graceful movement of Hamlet, and watch the swagger of the energetic Falstaff! Since I could only see one play, this put me in a very difficult position, since there were dozens of other plays I wanted to see. You have vision and can see any scene you like. When you watch a play, a movie, or any scene, I wonder how many of you are aware of and grateful for the miracle of vision that allows you to enjoy its color, grace, and movement? Since I live within the reach of my hands, I cannot enjoy the beauty of rhythmic movement. But I can only vaguely imagine the beauty of Bavlova, although I know a little about the pleasure of rhythm, because I can often feel the beat of the music when it shakes the floor. I can fully imagine that the rhythmic movements must be one of the most pleasing sights in the world. I can deduce something by tracing the lines of the marble statue with my fingers. If this kind of static beauty can be so cute, the dynamic beauty you see must be even more exciting. One of my most cherished memories is of Joseph Jefferson letting me touch his face and hands as he spoke and acted his beloved Reeb Van Winkle. I was able to experience a little bit of the world of drama, and I will never forget the joy of that moment. But how I longed to see and hear the interplay of dialogue and action in the progress of a dramatic performance! And you who can see it, how much joy you should get from it! If I could see just one play, I would know how to picture in my mind the plots of the nearly a hundred plays I have read or learned about in Braille letters. So, on the second night of my fictional sight, I didn’t get any sleep and spent the entire night enjoying dramatic literature.

The third day

Next morning, I will welcome the dawn again, eager to find new joy, because I believe that for those who can really see, every dawn It must be a new beauty that is repeated forever. According to the expiration date of my fictional miracle, this would be my third and last day of vision. I will have no time to spend in regrets or longings because there is so much to see. The first day I dedicated myself to my animate and inanimate friends. The next day, the history of man and nature was shown to me. Today, I will spend my time in the current daily world, going to places where people who are busy with their lives often go. Where can I find as many activities and situations as in New York? So the city became my destination. I set out from my home, the small, quiet suburb of Forrest, Long Island. Here, surrounded by green grass. There are trees and flowers, neat little houses, and the happy sounds and activities of women and children everywhere. It is very happy, and it is a peaceful resting place for the working people in the city. I drove across the steel ribbon bridge spanning the East River and had a new impression of the power and ingenuity of the human brain. Busy boats rattled along the river - speeding boats, slow, snorting tugs. If I can still see in the future, I will spend a lot of time looking at the joyful scene in the river. I looked ahead, and before me towered the strange towers of New York—a city that seemed to have been lifted out of the pages of myth. What an awe-inspiring building! These splendid church spires, these vast riverbanks of stone and steel—it really looks like the gods built it for themselves. This vivid picture is part of daily life for millions of people. I wonder, how many people will glance back at it? I'm afraid there are only a few. They turned a blind eye to this magnificent scenery because it was all too familiar to them. I hurried to the top of one of those huge buildings, the Empire State Building, where not long ago I had "looked down" at the city through my secretary's eyes, and I was eager to compare my imagination with reality. I believe that the entire scenery unfolding in front of me will not disappoint me, because it will be a scenery from another world to me. At this point, I started traveling around the city. First, I stood on a busy street corner and just looked at people, trying to understand their lives through my observations of them. Seeing their smiles makes me feel happy; seeing their serious decisions makes me feel proud; seeing their pain makes me full of sympathy. I walked along Fifth Avenue. I looked around casually, not focusing on any particular target, but just looking at the kaleidoscope-like colorful scene. I was sure that the colors of the women's clothes moving about in the crowd would be a gorgeous sight that would never bore me. If I had sight, however, I might be like most other women—interested in the fashionable style of individual garments and not paying much attention to the abundance of brilliant colors. Moreover, I am sure that I will become a die-hard window shopper, for it must be a joy for the eyes to look at these countless beautiful displays. Starting from Fifth Avenue, I will take a tour around the city - to Park Avenue, to the slums, to the factories, to the park where the children play, and I will also visit the foreign residential area for a trip without going out. Travel overseas. I always keep my eyes open to the full spectrum of happiness and misery, so that I can investigate deeper and learn more about how people work and live.

My mind is filled with images of people and things. My eyes never let go of a small thing easily. They strive to pay close attention to everything they see. Some scenes are pleasant and intoxicating; but others are extremely miserable and sad. I will never close my eyes to the latter, because they are also part of life. Closing your eyes in front of them is equivalent to closing your heart and mind. My third day of vision is coming to an end. Maybe there are many important and serious things that I need to use the remaining few hours to see and do. However, I am afraid that on the last night, I will run to the theater again to watch a lively and interesting play so as to appreciate the homophony in the human soul. By midnight my brief moment of escape from blindness would be over, and eternal night would approach me again. In those short three days, I naturally couldn't see everything I wanted to see. It was only when darkness came upon me again that I realized how much I had left behind. However, my heart is so full of sweet memories that I have little time to regret. From now on, every object I touch will have a vivid memory of what that object looked like. This brief account of how I spent the three days of sight may not be consistent with the arrangements you might have made for yourself if you knew you were going blind. However, I believe that if you really face that kind of misfortune, you will try your best to cast your eyes on things you have never seen before, and store them in your memory for the long dark night ahead. You'll use your eyes better than ever. Everything you see is so precious to you, and your eyes will feast on every item that appears within your sight. Then, you will truly see a beautiful world unfolding in front of you. As a blind person, I can give a reminder to those who can see - a piece of advice to those who can make full use of their gift of sight: Use your eyes as if tomorrow you were going to be blind. The same approach can be applied to other senses. Listen to the sweet sounds of the music, the singing of the birds, the powerful and sonorous strains of the orchestra, as if tomorrow you were going to be deaf. Touch everything you want to touch as if tomorrow your sense of touch would fade. Smell the fragrance of all the flowers and taste every bite as if you could never smell or taste again tomorrow. Make full use of every sense, take pride in all the pleasant and beautiful details that the world reveals to you through the few means of contact that nature has given you! However, of all the senses, I believe that sight must be the most pleasing.