第一篇：《美食祈禱和戀愛(ài)》觀后感

電影 | 《美食、祈禱和戀愛(ài)》觀后感

周日，難得清閑，又一次重溫了朱莉婭·羅伯茨主演的《美食、祈禱和戀愛(ài)》。已不記得是第幾次回看這部影片了，每一次看完都有一股暖流溢遍全身，周期性的喪就這樣被治愈。

記得初見(jiàn)《美食、祈禱和戀愛(ài)》時(shí)，就是被它散文一樣的標(biāo)題所吸引的。影片講述了30+的女主人公LIZ在厭倦了沒(méi)有激情和期待的婚姻生活后，選擇離婚踏上了尋找自我的發(fā)現(xiàn)之旅。

民以食為天，第一站去了意大利。跟當(dāng)?shù)貛浉鐚W(xué)習(xí)意大利語(yǔ)，享受美味的意面、披薩，體驗(yàn)慢節(jié)奏的意式生活，感受家庭成員間相互關(guān)愛(ài)的溫馨之情??她有份參與其中，覺(jué)得是自己是世界最幸福的女孩，找回了對(duì)世俗生活的愉悅感。

第二站去了印度。在小男友大衛(wèi)皈依的印度古魯那里靜修、冥想，期間遇上了恐婚的17歲印度女孩桑迪和因醉駕撞死自己兒子的德州男子理查，在大家相互慰藉的過(guò)程，她明白了，她不是圣母瑪麗亞，她只是她而已。泅過(guò)自己內(nèi)心那條潛滿短吻鱷的護(hù)城河之后，一直以來(lái)的焦躁、迷茫和痛苦漸漸釋然。

第三站去了巴厘島。因?yàn)榱鶄€(gè)月前，在巴厘島上的巫醫(yī)賴恩告訴她，她會(huì)經(jīng)歷兩次感情的挫折、并人財(cái)兩空，周游世界后會(huì)再次回到這里。所以這次她是來(lái)向賴恩尋找答案的。在這里她遇上了同樣因感情受挫而離婚的巴西寶石商人費(fèi)利佩，兩人以游客和導(dǎo)游的身份，輕松而自然地相處著，不經(jīng)意間開(kāi)出了LIZ想要的愛(ài)情之花，最終，在戀愛(ài)與寧?kù)o的生活之間達(dá)成了完美的平衡。

電影改編自伊麗莎白·吉爾伯特的自傳體小說(shuō)《一輩子做女孩》，以女主人公LIZ的心路歷程和人生意義的尋找旅程為主線，貫穿了意大利、印度、巴厘島的美景、美食和眾多人物背后不同的人生經(jīng)歷和故事，畫(huà)面唯美、情感細(xì)膩，寓意深刻，猶如一篇形散而神不散的散文，令人常看常新。

閑來(lái)無(wú)事，你可以把關(guān)注點(diǎn)放在美食、美景、與異域風(fēng)情的風(fēng)俗上面，只是當(dāng)一部游歷美景品嘗美食順帶再談一個(gè)浪漫戀愛(ài)的小資情調(diào)試?yán)寺娪皝?lái)消遣時(shí)光。

想靜下心來(lái)細(xì)細(xì)品味，你就把關(guān)注點(diǎn)更多的放在影片要傳達(dá)的精神層面上。拔開(kāi)浮華的表面，這是一部對(duì)于人生、信仰和愛(ài)情進(jìn)行自我發(fā)問(wèn)的影片，片中的某些臺(tái)詞會(huì)不經(jīng)意間觸動(dòng)我們內(nèi)心的柔軟，讓我想起了張淑芬的《遇見(jiàn)未知的自己》。

確實(shí)，生活中沒(méi)有誰(shuí)是容易的，是人都會(huì)有不堪的往事，解不開(kāi)的心結(jié)。有些事于你要?dú)v盡千帆，于別人卻可以原地重生，關(guān)鍵還是看我們是否能夠正視和接納一個(gè)不完美的自己。

我們永遠(yuǎn)都難以知道自己真正該怎么活、真正渴望的是什么。所以一次次我們錯(cuò)過(guò)了隱身于思想深處的另一個(gè)自己。總在嘗試著改變些什么，可是生活會(huì)毫不保留地告誡我們，既然改變不了，就唯有適應(yīng)，就地臣服。人生就像一場(chǎng)戲，為了向世界竭力證明自己的價(jià)值，每個(gè)人都在扮演著各種不同的角色，但所有的一切最終追求的莫過(guò)于滿足自己內(nèi)心的“愛(ài)、喜悅、和平”的感覺(jué)罷了。其實(shí)易地而處，活于世上，我們真的不需要對(duì)世界作出任何解釋?zhuān)澜缰唤邮芪覀儗?duì)自己的評(píng)價(jià)罷了。

走過(guò)萬(wàn)水千山，只為找一條走回心間的路??

最后，用《遇見(jiàn)未知的自己》里智慧老人寫(xiě)給女主人公若菱的一段話結(jié)束本篇觀后感：“親愛(ài)的，外面沒(méi)有別人，只有自己。外面沒(méi)有別人，所有的外在事物都是我們內(nèi)心投射出來(lái)的結(jié)果??每個(gè)發(fā)生在自己身上的事件都是一個(gè)禮物，只是有的禮物包裝得很難看，讓我們心懷怨恨或心存恐懼；因?yàn)?，它可以是一個(gè)災(zāi)難，也可以是一個(gè)禮物。但如果能帶著信心，給它一點(diǎn)時(shí)間，耐心、細(xì)心地拆開(kāi)這個(gè)慘不忍睹的外殼包裝，你會(huì)享受到它內(nèi)在蘊(yùn)含著的豐盛美好?！?/p>

經(jīng)典臺(tái)詞

“我的經(jīng)歷雖然滄桑，但人間正道是滄桑。只是不能沉浸于以前的滄桑。經(jīng)歷滄桑是好事，滄桑才能帶來(lái)變化。奧古斯遺址讓我明白，即使在永恒之城羅馬，也要去面對(duì)永恒的改變。我們不應(yīng)該在廝守下去，那只是因?yàn)槲覀儞?dān)心分開(kāi)會(huì)更痛苦?！?/p>

“我知道你心情不好，但你正處于轉(zhuǎn)折點(diǎn)。這不是壞事，而這里的環(huán)境正適合你去轉(zhuǎn)變。不就是想他嗎？想他的時(shí)候就對(duì)他表達(dá)出來(lái)，然后放在一邊。只要你摒棄雜念，別再考慮這個(gè)人和你失敗的婚姻，就把你的思想騰出來(lái)了。這時(shí)候會(huì)發(fā)生什么呢？上帝就會(huì)占據(jù)其中，帶給你很多無(wú)法想象的愛(ài)，我覺(jué)得你將來(lái)有能力愛(ài)上整個(gè)世界。”

“來(lái)印度的收獲可以總結(jié)為一句話，上帝在你身上的體現(xiàn)就是你。上帝可沒(méi)興趣看一個(gè)信徒的長(zhǎng)相和舉止。輕輕靜靜地走路，臉上帶著圣潔微笑的人，那是圣母瑪利亞，不是凡人。上帝在我身上的體現(xiàn)，就是我?！?/p>

“巴厘人知道，要保持幸福，就要時(shí)時(shí)刻刻知道自己在哪里。這里是最平衡的地方，就在天堂和人間的交匯處。既不過(guò)于神圣，也不過(guò)于世俗。否則的話，生活就太累了。失去了平衡，就失去了力量。在早晨，你做在印度學(xué)的冥想，非常的虔誠(chéng)。白天呢，就在巴厘島玩，到了下午，就來(lái)找我。到晚上，你做新的冥想。很簡(jiǎn)單，就是安靜的坐下微笑。在臉上笑，還要在心里笑，甚至要在肝臟里笑?！?/p>

“有時(shí)候，因?yàn)閻?ài)而失去平衡，也是生活平衡的表現(xiàn)。”

第二篇：《美食、祈禱和戀愛(ài)》經(jīng)典臺(tái)詞

不要通過(guò)你的頭腦看世界 要通過(guò)你的心

：你是什么時(shí)候想要孩子的

：不記得了 不過(guò)我結(jié)婚以前就有那個(gè)盒子了 ：什么盒子

：那是小姑娘的玩意 我說(shuō)了你會(huì)笑話我的 ：我會(huì)笑話你 但你還是要告訴我

：好吧 在床底下 我一直朝里面放嬰兒用品 直到安迪愿意做個(gè)父親

：真令人感動(dòng)（開(kāi)了句玩笑然后嘆氣）我也有個(gè)這樣的盒子 只不過(guò)里面都是國(guó)家地理雜志和THE TIMES報(bào)的旅游版 都是我一生想去的地方 ：LIZ 懷孕就像把紋身紋在臉上 一定要先想好了

我每一刻都在積極的創(chuàng)造這一生活 為何還感覺(jué)自己和這一生活格格不入

：我愛(ài)上你了

：我不是你想象的那樣 只是你的幻想

：這是胡說(shuō) 你是真實(shí)的 你的傷疤 你的才能 我開(kāi)一家三流酒吧你也接受這就是我要做的我喜歡你的痛 喜歡我們?cè)谝黄鸬臅r(shí)候 我能趕走你的痛苦 當(dāng)我看著你的眼睛 就聽(tīng)見(jiàn)海豚拍手的聲音 ：他不知道的是 我消失在我愛(ài)的人之中 我是可滲透的薄膜 只要我愛(ài)你 你就能擁有我的一切 我的錢(qián) 我的時(shí)間 我的身體 我的狗 我的狗的錢(qián) 我會(huì)承擔(dān)你的債務(wù) 還會(huì)給你各種你從未具備的優(yōu)秀品質(zhì) 把這些都給你 還會(huì)給你更多 直到我身心疲憊 唯一能讓我康復(fù)的 就是愛(ài)上一個(gè)人

我只是不習(xí)慣 一個(gè)陌生人比我更能看透我的內(nèi)心 所以才故意說(shuō)你矮

嚴(yán)格來(lái)說(shuō)我并非愛(ài)上他 我只是跳出自己的婚姻 掉進(jìn)大衛(wèi)的懷抱 就像卡通片中的人 從高臺(tái)上跳下 掉進(jìn)一小杯水中 徹底消失

：你為何成為素食主義者 ：因?yàn)橛写慰匆?jiàn)宰牛

：對(duì)于他來(lái)說(shuō)很痛苦啊 那你呢 ：我可以冥想

：LIZ 記得幾年前你全身心的去裝修廚房 一心只想著做好飯 做個(gè)好妻子 ：我只是盡力維持

：那我覺(jué)得念經(jīng)和冥想也是一回事 只是形式不同

不希望你不在身邊 讓我想你嗎？

首先是你所愛(ài)的人給你一劑毒品 愛(ài)與激情的情感毒品 很快 你就像癮君子一樣 渴望得到對(duì)方的關(guān)注 得不到的話 就會(huì)生病 煩躁 憎恨當(dāng)初讓你服下感情毒品的人現(xiàn)在再也不給你毒品了 以前卻是免費(fèi)給你毒品 然后你會(huì)變得憔悴 哪怕是為了讓對(duì)方再給你一次毒品你也愿意付出一切 你愛(ài)的人現(xiàn)在開(kāi)始討厭你 他看你的眼神 就像看著陌生人 可你又不能責(zé)怪

他 看看自己 都沒(méi)個(gè)人樣了 連自己都認(rèn)不出自己了 這時(shí)就到了熱戀的最后階段 自暴自棄

：你想離開(kāi)一年？ ：知道我今天突然是什么感覺(jué)嗎 沒(méi)有激情 沒(méi)有活力 沒(méi)有信仰 沒(méi)有熱情 什么都沒(méi)有 什么時(shí)候都是這種感覺(jué) 這樣我感到害怕 這簡(jiǎn)直比死亡還可怕 難道我一輩子就做這種人嗎 ：這很正常 20多歲的時(shí)候戀愛(ài) 結(jié)婚 30多歲的時(shí)候忙家里的瑣事 突然有一天就想 這不是我想要的生活 然后婚姻出現(xiàn)危機(jī) 受到傷害 然后去找心理醫(yī)生 卻不能思考一下 ：我不需要思考 我需要改變

：這里有很多能幫助你的人 你有愛(ài)你的朋友和家人

：你能感受到我對(duì)你的愛(ài) 對(duì)你的幫助嗎 什么都沒(méi)有 我沒(méi)有一點(diǎn)生命力 我要去意大利 ：為什么要去意大利呢 ：你中午吃的什么 ：沙拉吧

：沒(méi)錯(cuò) 我以前有吃飯的欲望 生活的欲望 而現(xiàn)在卻沒(méi)了 我想能找到自己迷戀的東西 語(yǔ)言 冰淇淋 意大利面 什么都行 ：你這話就像是個(gè)孩子 ：我一直就像孩子 自從15歲以來(lái) 不是在談戀愛(ài) 就是在分手 連兩周的單身時(shí)間都沒(méi)有 來(lái)處理自己的事情

：我一生的回憶 都裝在這些箱子里了

：戀戀不舍的人多了 但很少有幾個(gè)再回來(lái)找

：嘿 如果你留下來(lái) 我們每晚去吃印度菜 ：你從未請(qǐng)求我留下來(lái)

我以前責(zé)怪你 也有一部分是出于嫉妒心 我留戀我的老公 工作 孩子 不過(guò)我真想出去走走 我佩服你的選擇 去吧

意大利有個(gè)很好笑的老笑話 說(shuō)一個(gè)窮人每天都到教堂 在一個(gè)圣人的雕像面前祈禱 “圣人啊 行行好 行行好 你就讓我中彩票吧” 被激怒的圣人最終忍不住顯靈 向下看著祈禱的窮人說(shuō) “孩子 那你也該買(mǎi)張彩票吧”

：我覺(jué)得很內(nèi)疚 來(lái)羅馬三周了 除了學(xué)幾個(gè)意大利詞就是吃 ：你覺(jué)得內(nèi)疚 因?yàn)槟闶敲绹?guó)人 你們不懂得快樂(lè) ：你說(shuō)什么

：是真的 美國(guó)人懂得娛樂(lè) 但不懂得快樂(lè) 你的麻煩就在于你是美國(guó)人 工作辛苦 累死累活的 周末回到家 就知道穿著睡衣看電視 你們不懂得快樂(lè) 需要有人提醒 你們看到廣告上說(shuō) “周末就要喝啤酒” 你們就想 “對(duì)啊 我要去買(mǎi)幾瓶” 然后把酒都喝了 第二天醒來(lái)頭昏腦脹 但是意大利人不需要提醒 如果我們看見(jiàn)廣告上說(shuō) “你今天要休息一會(huì)兒” 我們會(huì)想 “這我知道” 因此我們才打算中午休息一會(huì)兒 去你家勾引你老婆 我們稱(chēng)之為 “無(wú)所事事的快樂(lè) 我們對(duì)此最在行了” 你不能這樣說(shuō)意大利語(yǔ) 不要用你的嘴說(shuō) 要用你的手說(shuō)

每個(gè)城市的人都有自己的風(fēng)格 比如倫敦人的風(fēng)格是什么 我覺(jué)得是保守 斯德哥爾摩人的風(fēng)格是什么 這還用問(wèn)？ 隨大流唄 紐約人呢 事業(yè)心或者瑣碎 羅馬人什么風(fēng)格 嗯~這個(gè)問(wèn)題

要好好想想 性

：你是什么特點(diǎn) 我看不出來(lái) ：這個(gè)嘛 可能是 首先是女人 我是個(gè)孝順女兒 然后 妻子 我做的不好 女朋友 做的也不好 我的特點(diǎn)就是作家

：但這是你的職業(yè) 不能代表你的人 或許你正在尋找自我的過(guò)程中

：我戀愛(ài)了 愛(ài)上了我的比薩 你看起來(lái)要和比薩分手了 怎么了 ：我不能吃

：怎么不能吃 這可是NAPLES的比薩 不吃還有天理嗎

：我也想吃 不過(guò)我胖了10斤 我都長(zhǎng)了 在這兒 該用什么詞來(lái)形容 ：贅肉 我也有贅肉

：我剛剛還松開(kāi)扣子看自己長(zhǎng)了多少贅肉 ：我來(lái)問(wèn)你 所有看見(jiàn)你脫衣服的男人中 ：也沒(méi)幾個(gè)

：那無(wú)所謂 有一個(gè)人讓你滾嗎 有一個(gè)人轉(zhuǎn)身就走嗎 ：沒(méi)有 ：因?yàn)槟腥瞬辉诤?看你脫了衣服 他燒高香還來(lái)不及呢 我再也不愿每天早上醒來(lái) 拼命回憶昨天自己吃的東西 盤(pán)算著自己又能長(zhǎng)幾斤肉 責(zé)怪自己怎么管不住自己的嘴 我現(xiàn)在只管吃 我不是為了長(zhǎng)胖 只是不想再有內(nèi)疚感 因此我要吃了這份比薩 然后看一場(chǎng)足球賽 明天我們結(jié)伴逛街 買(mǎi)條更肥大的褲子

我們能不能承認(rèn)感情遇到危機(jī) 然后繼續(xù)堅(jiān)持下去？我們承認(rèn)經(jīng)常吵架 很少做愛(ài)了 但我們卻不希望失去對(duì)方 這樣我們就能生活在一起 雖然煩惱 但也慶幸沒(méi)有分離

親愛(ài)的大衛(wèi) 我們有段時(shí)間沒(méi)聯(lián)系了 這讓我有了思考的時(shí)間 記得你說(shuō)過(guò) 我們應(yīng)該不幸福的生活在一起 這樣就能幸福 很長(zhǎng)時(shí)間以來(lái) 我一直是這么做的 希望能維持下去 不過(guò)一位朋友有天帶我去了一個(gè)好地方 奧古斯都遺址 原本是奧古斯都大帝為自己建造的陵墓 異教徒入侵的時(shí)候 把陵墓和其他一切都洗劫一空 奧古斯都大帝 古羅馬的第一位偉大皇帝 怎么可能料到 羅馬帝國(guó) 他眼中的天下 會(huì)被洗劫呢 “在中世紀(jì) 有人到這里偷走了皇帝的骨灰 在12世紀(jì)成了一個(gè)城堡 后來(lái)成了斗牛場(chǎng) 之后成了儲(chǔ)存煙花的地方 現(xiàn)在成了流浪漢的廁所” 這是羅馬最安靜 孤獨(dú)的地方 城市的周?chē)鷶?shù)百年間都發(fā)展起來(lái)了 這里就像是不愿忘懷的一處傷口 一處心痛 因?yàn)樗屇銈煤苌?我們都希望能保持原樣 能接受煩惱的生活 只是因?yàn)槲覀兒ε赂淖?害怕變得更糟 但當(dāng)我看到這個(gè)地方 看到其歷經(jīng)的滄桑 被用于各種用途 被燒毀 被洗劫 但依然屹立不倒 于是我明白 我的經(jīng)歷雖然滄桑 但人間正道是滄桑 只是不能沉浸于以前的滄桑 經(jīng)歷滄桑是好事 滄桑才能帶來(lái)變化 奧古斯都遺址讓我明白 即使是在永恒之城羅馬 也要去面對(duì)永恒的改變 我們不應(yīng)該再?gòu)P守下去 那只是因?yàn)槲覀儞?dān)心分開(kāi)會(huì)更痛苦

：不就是愛(ài)上一個(gè)人嗎 ：我很想他

：那就想唄 想他的時(shí)候就對(duì)他表達(dá)出來(lái) 然后放在一邊

來(lái)印度的收獲可以總結(jié)為一句話 上帝在你身上的體現(xiàn)就是你

一種中間狀態(tài) 生活在邊緣狀態(tài) 不愿過(guò)舒適的居家生活 而是去尋找啟示

你現(xiàn)在害怕吧 我理解 你不想失去自我 愛(ài)是令人害怕的、危險(xiǎn)的 我也經(jīng)歷過(guò) 我每天祈禱 但是老公還是對(duì)我不好 我只能離開(kāi)他 這就是他打我留下的傷痕 用摩托車(chē)頭盔打的 我的女兒 求著我和他離婚 說(shuō)這話的時(shí)候 她只有四歲 別覺(jué)得對(duì)不起他 人人都需要愛(ài)情 愛(ài)讓人失去理智 在戀愛(ài)的初期都是這樣的 怎么愛(ài)都愛(ài)不夠 甚至像你這樣弄出病來(lái) 即使是我 開(kāi)始戀愛(ài)的時(shí)候也是這樣 也失去了自我

有時(shí)候 因?yàn)閻?ài)而失去平衡 也是生活平衡的表現(xiàn)

在最后 我相信了“探索的物理學(xué)” 這種力量和萬(wàn)有引力一樣是真實(shí)存在的 探索物理學(xué)的原理是 只要你能勇敢的放棄熟悉的一切（不管放棄的是你喜歡的還是憎恨的）開(kāi)始探索真理的歷程（也包括心理上的歷程）只要你把歷程中的見(jiàn)聞都能視為線索 只要你把沿途見(jiàn)到的人都當(dāng)做老師 最重要的是 只要你能夠面對(duì)、原諒自己不好的方面 那么你就會(huì)探索到真理

第三篇：美食、祈禱、戀愛(ài)作者ted演講稿

I am a writer.Writing books is my profession but it's more than that, of course.It is also my great lifelong love and fascination.And I don't expect that that's ever going to change.But, that said, something kind of peculiar has happened recently in my life and in my career, which has caused me to have to recalibrate my whole relationship with this work.And the peculiar thing is that I recently wrote this book, this memoir called “Eat, Pray, Love” which, decidedly unlike any of my previous books, went out in the world for some reason, and became this big, mega-sensation, international bestseller thing.The result of which is that everywhere I go now, people treat me like I'm doomed.Seriously--doomed, doomed!Like, they come up to me now, all worried, and they say, “Aren't you afraid--aren't you afraid you're never going to be able to top that? Aren't you afraid you're going to keep writing for your whole life and you're never again going to create a book that anybody in the world cares about at all, ever again?”

So that's reassuring, you know.But it would be worse, except for that I happen to remember that over 20 years ago, when I first started telling people--when I was a teenager--that I wanted to be a writer, I was met with this same kind of, sort of fear-based reaction.And people would say, “Aren't you afraid you're never going to have any success? Aren't you afraid the humiliation of rejection will kill you? Aren't you afraid that you're going to work your whole life at this craft and nothing's ever going to come of it and you're going to die on a scrap heap of broken dreams with your mouth filled with bitter ash of failure?”(Laughter)Like that, you know.The answer--the short answer to all those questions is, “Yes.” Yes, I'm afraid of all those things.And I always have been.And I'm afraid of many many more things besides that people can't even guess at.Like seaweed, and other things that are scary.But, when it comes to writing the thing that I've been sort of thinking about lately, and wondering about lately, is why? You know, is it rational? Is it logical that anybody should be expected to be afraid of the work that they feel they were put on this Earth to do.You know, and what is it specifically about creative ventures that seems to make us really nervous about each other's mental health in a way that other careers kind of don't do, you know? Like my dad, for example, was a chemical engineer and I don't recall once in his 40 years of chemical engineering anybody asking him if he was afraid to be a chemical engineer, you know? It didn't--that chemical engineering block John, how's it going? It just didn't come up like that, you know? But to be fair, chemical engineers as a group haven't really earned a reputation over the centuries for being alcoholic manic-depressives.(Laughter)

We writers, we kind of do have that reputation, and not just writers, but creative people across all genres, it seems, have this reputation for being enormously mentally unstable.And all you have to do is look at the very grim death count in the 20th century alone, of really magnificent creative minds who died young and often at their own hands, you know? And even the ones who didn't literally commit suicide seem to be really undone by their gifts, you know.Norman Mailer, just before he died, last interview, he said “Every one of my books has killed me a little more.” An extraordinary statement to make about your life's work, you know.But we don't even blink when we hear somebody say this because we've heard that kind of stuff for so long and somehow we've completely internalized and accepted collectively this notion that creativity and suffering are somehow inherently linked and that artistry, in the end, will always ultimately lead to anguish.And the question that I want to ask everybody here today is are you guys all cool with that idea? Are you comfortable with that--because you look at it even from an inch away and, you know--I'm not at all comfortable with that assumption.I think it's odious.And I also think it's dangerous, and I don't want to see it perpetuated into the next century.I think it's better if we encourage our great creative minds to live.And I definitely know that, in my case--in my situation--it would be very dangerous for me to start sort of leaking down that dark path of assumption, particularly given the circumstance that I'm in right now in my career.Which is--you know, like check it out, I'm pretty young, I'm only about 40 years old.I still have maybe another four decades of work left in me.And it's exceedingly likely that anything I write from this point forward is going to be judged by the world as the work that came after the freakish success of my last book, right? I should just put it bluntly, because we're all sort of friends here now--it's exceedingly likely that my greatest success is behind me.Oh, so Jesus, what a thought!You know that's the kind of thought that could lead a person to start drinking gin at nine o'clock in the morning, and I don't want to go there.(Laughter)I would prefer to keep doing this work that I love.And so, the question becomes, how? And so, it seems to me, upon a lot of reflection, that the way that I have to work now, in order to continue writing, is that I have to create some sort of protective psychological construct, right? I have to, sort of find some way to have a safe distance between me, as I am writing, and my very natural anxiety about what the reaction to that writing is going to be, from now on.And, as I've been looking over the last year for models for how to do that I've been sort of looking across time, and I've been trying to find other societies to see if they might have had better and saner ideas than we have about how to help creative people, sort of manage the inherent emotional risks of creativity.And that search has led me to ancient Greece and ancient Rome.So stay with me, because it does circle around and back.But, ancient Greece and ancient Rome--people did not happen to believe that creativity came from human beings back then, OK? People believed that creativity was this divine attendant spirit that came to human beings from some distant and unknowable source, for distant and unknowable reasons.The Greeks famously called these divine attendant spirits of creativity “daemons.” Socrates, famously, believed that he had a daemon who spoke wisdom to him from afar.The Romans had the same idea, but they called that sort of disembodied creative spirit a genius.Which is great, because the Romans did not actually think that a genius was a particularly clever individual.They believed that a genius was this, sort of magical divine entity, who was believed to literally live in the walls of an artist's studio, kind of like Dobby the house elf, and who would come out and sort of invisibly assist the artist with their work and would shape the outcome of that work.So brilliant--there it is, right there that distance that I'm talking about--that psychological construct to protect you from the results of your work.And everyone knew that this is how it functioned, right? So the ancient artist was protected from certain things, like, for example, too much narcissism, right? If your work was brilliant you couldn't take all the credit for it, everybody knew that you had this disembodied genius who had helped you.If your work bombed, not entirely your fault, you know? Everyone knew your genius was kind of lame.And this is how people thought about creativity in the West for a really long time.And then the Renaissance came and everything changed, and we had this big idea, and the big idea was let's put the individual human being at the center of the universe above all gods and mysteries, and there's no more room for mystical creatures who take dictation from the divine.And it's the beginning of rational humanism, and people started to believe that creativity came completely from the self of the individual.And for the first time in history, you start to hear people referring to this or that artist as being a genius rather than having a genius.And I got to tell you, I think that was a huge error.You know, I think that allowing somebody, one mere person to believe that he or she is like, the vessel you know, like the font and the essence and the source of all divine, creative, unknowable, eternal mystery is just a smidge too much responsibility to put on one fragile, human psyche.It's like asking somebody to swallow the sun.It just completely warps and distorts egos, and it creates all these unmanageable expectations about performance.And I think the pressure of that has been killing off our artists for the last 500 years.And, if this is true, and I think it is true, the question becomes, what now? Can we do this differently? Maybe go back to some more ancient understanding about the relationship between humans and the creative mystery.Maybe not.Maybe we can't just erase 500 years of rational humanistic thought in one 18 minute speech.And there's probably people in this audience who would raise really legitimate scientific suspicions about the notion of, basically fairies who follow people around rubbing fairy juice on their projects and stuff.I'm not, probably, going to bring you all along with me on this.But the question that I kind of want to pose is--you know, why not? Why not think about it this way? Because it makes as much sense as anything else I have ever heard in terms of explaining the utter maddening capriciousness of the creative process.A process which, as anybody who has ever tried to make something--which is to say basically, everyone here---knows does not always behave rationally.And, in fact, can sometimes feel downright paranormal.I had this encounter recently where I met the extraordinary American poet Ruth Stone, who's now in her 90s, but she's been a poet her entire life and she told me that when she was growing up in rural Virginia, she would be out working in the fields, and she said she would feel and hear a poem coming at her from over the landscape.And she said it was like a thunderous train of air.And it would come barreling down at her over the landscape.And she felt it coming, because it would shake the earth under her feet.She knew that she had only one thing to do at that point, and that was to, in her words, “run like hell.” And she would run like hell to the house and she would be getting chased by this poem, and the whole deal was that she had to get to a piece of paper and a pencil fast enough so that when it thundered through her, she could collect it and grab it on the page.And other times she wouldn't be fast enough, so she'd be running and running and running, and she wouldn't get to the house and the poem would barrel through her and she would miss it and she said it would continue on across the landscape, looking, as she put it “for another poet.” And then there were these times--this is the piece I never forgot--she said that there were moments where she would almost miss it, right? So, she's running to the house and she's looking for the paper and the poem passes through her, and she grabs a pencil just as it's going through her, and then she said, it was like she would reach out with her other hand and she would catch it.She would catch the poem by its tail, and she would pull it backwards into her body as she was transcribing on the page.And in these instances, the poem would come up on the page perfect and intact but backwards, from the last word to the first.(Laughter)

So when I heard that I was like--that's uncanny, that's exactly what my creative process is like.(Laughter)

That's not all what my creative process is--I'm not the pipeline!I'm a mule, and the way that I have to work is that I have to get up at the same time every day, and sweat and labor and barrel through it really awkwardly.But even I, in my mulishness, even I have brushed up against that thing, at times.And I would imagine that a lot of you have too.You know, even I have had work or ideas come through me from a source that I honestly cannot identify.And what is that thing? And how are we to relate to it in a way that will not make us lose our minds, but, in fact, might actually keep us sane?

And for me, the best contemporary example that I have of how to do that is the musician Tom Waits, who I got to interview several years ago on a magazine assignment.And we were talking about this, and you know, Tom, for most of his life he was pretty much the embodiment of the tormented contemporary modern artist, trying to control and manage and dominate these sort of uncontrollable creative impulses that were totally internalized.But then he got older, he got calmer, and one day he was driving down the freeway in Los Angeles he told me, and this is when it all changed for him.And he's speeding along, and all of a sudden he hears this little fragment of melody, that comes into his head as inspiration often comes, elusive and tantalizing, and he wants it, you know, it's gorgeous, and he longs for it, but he has no way to get it.He doesn't have a piece of paper, he doesn't have a pencil, he doesn't have a tape recorder.So he starts to feel all of that old anxiety start to rise in him like, “I'm going to lose this thing, and then I'm going to be haunted by this song forever.I'm not good enough, and I can't do it.” And instead of panicking, he just stopped.He just stopped that whole mental process and he did something completely novel.He just looked up at the sky, and he said, “Excuse me, can you not see that I'm driving?”(Laughter)“Do I look like I can write down a song right now? If you really want to exist, come back at a more opportune moment when I can take care of you.Otherwise, go bother somebody else today.Go bother Leonard Cohen.”

And his whole work process changed after that.Not the work, the work was still oftentimes as dark as ever.But the process, and the heavy anxiety around it was released when he took the genie, the genius out of him where it was causing nothing but trouble, and released it kind of back where it came from, and realized that this didn't have to be this internalized, tormented thing.It could be this peculiar, wondrous, bizarre collaboration kind of conversation between Tom and the strange, external thing that was not quite Tom.So when I heard that story it started to shift a little bit the way that I worked too, and it already saved me once.This idea, it saved me when I was in the middle of writing “Eat, Pray, Love,” and I fell into one of those, sort of pits of despair that we all fall into when we're working on something and it's not coming and you start to think this is going to be a disaster, this is going to be the worst book ever written.Not just bad, but the worst book ever written.And I started to think I should just dump this project.But then I remembered Tom talking to the open air and I tried it.So I just lifted my face up from the manuscript and I directed my comments to an empty corner of the room.And I said aloud, “Listen you, thing, you and I both know that if this book isn't brilliant that is not entirely my fault, right? Because you can see that I am putting everything I have into this, I don't have anymore than this.So if you want it to be better, then you've got to show up and do your part of the deal.OK.But if you don't do that, you know what, the hell with it.I'm going to keep writing anyway because that's my job.And I would please like the record to reflect today that I showed up for my part of the job.”(Laughter)

Because--(Applause)in the end it's like this, OK--centuries ago in the deserts of North Africa, people used to gather for these moonlight dances of sacred dance and music that would go on for hours and hours, until dawn.And they were always magnificent, because the dancers were professionals and they were terrific, right? But every once in a while, very rarely, something would happen, and one of these performers would actually become transcendent.And I know you know what I'm talking about, because I know you've all seen, at some point in your life, a performance like this.It was like time would stop, and the dancer would sort of step through some kind of portal and he wasn't doing anything different than he had ever done, 1,000 nights before, but everything would align.And all of a sudden, he would no longer appear to be merely human.He would be lit from within, and lit from below and all lit up on fire with divinity.And when this happened, back then, people knew it for what it was, you know, they called it by it's name.They would put their hands together and they would start to chant, “Allah, Allah, Allah, God God, God.” That's God, you know.Curious historical footnote--when the Moors invaded southern Spain, they took this custom with them and the pronunciation changed over the centuries from “Allah, Allah, Allah,” to “Ole, ole, ole,” which you still hear in bullfights and in flamenco dances.In Spain, when a performer has done something impossible and magic, “Allah, ole, ole, Allah, magnificent, bravo,” incomprehensible, there it is--a glimpse of God.Which is great, because we need that.But, the tricky bit comes the next morning, for the dancer himself, when he wakes up and discovers that it's Tuesday at 11 a.m., and he's no longer a glimpse of God.He's just an aging mortal with really bad knees, and maybe he's never going to ascend to that height again.And maybe nobody will ever chant God's name again as he spins, and what is he then to do with the rest of his life? This is hard.This is one of the most painful reconciliations to make in a creative life.But maybe it doesn't have to be quite so full of anguish if you never happened to believe, in the first place, that the most extraordinary aspects of your being came from you.But maybe if you just believed that they were on loan to you from some unimaginable source for some exquisite portion of your life to be passed along when you're finished, with somebody else.And, you know, if we think about it this way it starts to change everything.This is how I've started to think, and this is certainly how I've been thinking in the last few months as I've been working on the book that will soon be published, as the dangerously, frighteningly overanticipated follow up to my freakish success.And what I have to, sort of keep telling myself when I get really psyched out about that, is, don't be afraid.Don't be daunted.Just do your job.Continue to show up for your piece of it, whatever that might be.If your job is to dance, do your dance.If the divine, cockeyed genius assigned to your case decides to let some sort of wonderment be glimpsed, for just one moment through your efforts, then “Ole!” And if not, do your dance anyhow.And “Ole!” to you, nonetheless.I believe this and I feel that we must teach it.“Ole!” to you, nonetheless, just for having the sheer human love and stubbornness to keep showing up.Thank you.(Applause)Thank you.(Applause)

June Cohen: Ole!(Applause)

第四篇：祈禱戀愛(ài)經(jīng)典語(yǔ)錄

美好的愛(ài)情總是我們向往的，以下是小編整理的祈禱戀愛(ài)經(jīng)典語(yǔ)錄，歡迎閱讀參考！

1、這世界上有一個(gè)人是永遠(yuǎn)等著你的，不管是什么時(shí)候，不管你是在什么地方，反正你知道，總有這樣一個(gè)人。

2、放棄該放棄的是無(wú)奈，放棄不該放棄的是無(wú)能；不放棄該放棄的是無(wú)知，不放棄不該放棄的是執(zhí)著。

3、其實(shí)快樂(lè)要有悲傷作陪，雨過(guò)應(yīng)該就有天晴。如果雨后還是雨，如果憂傷之后還是憂傷．請(qǐng)讓我們從容面對(duì)這離別之后的離別。微笑地去尋找一個(gè)不可能出現(xiàn)的你！

4、親愛(ài)的，請(qǐng)不要欺騙善良的女孩。這個(gè)世界上，善良的女孩太少。

5、是??！曾經(jīng)有一份真誠(chéng)的愛(ài)情擺在我的面前，但是我沒(méi)有珍惜，等到了失去的時(shí)候才后悔莫及，塵世間最痛苦的事莫過(guò)于此。如果上天能夠給我一個(gè)再來(lái)一次的機(jī)會(huì)，我會(huì)對(duì)那個(gè)女孩子說(shuō)三個(gè)字：我愛(ài)你。如果非要在這份愛(ài)上加個(gè)期限，我希望是一萬(wàn)年！

6、有些事情本身我們無(wú)法控制，只好控制自己。

7、在這千萬(wàn)人之中，遇見(jiàn)你所遇見(jiàn)的人；于千萬(wàn)年之中，時(shí)間的無(wú)涯荒野里，沒(méi)有早一步，也沒(méi)有晚一步，剛巧趕上了

8、不管從什么時(shí)候開(kāi)始，重要的是開(kāi)始以后不要停止；不管在什么時(shí)候結(jié)束，重要的是結(jié)束以后不要后悔。

9、能沖刷一切的除了眼淚，就是時(shí)間，以時(shí)間來(lái)推移感情，時(shí)間越長(zhǎng)，沖突越淡，仿佛不斷稀釋的茶。

10、人生短短幾十年，不要給自己留下了什么遺憾，想笑就笑，想哭就哭，該愛(ài)的時(shí)候就去愛(ài)，無(wú)謂壓抑自己

11、我們確實(shí)活得艱難，一要承受種種外部的壓力，更要面對(duì)自己內(nèi)心的困惑。在苦苦掙扎中，如果有人向你投以理解的目光，你會(huì)感到一種生命的暖意，或許僅有短暫的一瞥，就足以使我感奮不已。

12、記住該記住的，忘記該忘記的。改變能改變的，接受不能改變的13、后悔是一種耗費(fèi)精神的情緒.后悔是比損失更大的損失，比錯(cuò)誤更大的錯(cuò)誤.所以不要后悔

14、天長(zhǎng)地久有沒(méi)有？當(dāng)然有！為什么大多數(shù)人不相信有？因?yàn)樗麄儧](méi)有找到人生旅途中最適合自己的那一個(gè)。也就是冥冥中注定的那一個(gè)。為什么找不到？茫茫人海，人生如露，要找到最合適自己的那一個(gè)談何容易？你或許可以在40歲時(shí)找到上天注定的那一個(gè)，可是你能等到40歲嗎？在20多歲時(shí)找不到，卻不得不結(jié)婚，在三四十歲時(shí)找到卻不得不放棄。這就是人生的悲哀。

15、每個(gè)女孩都曾是無(wú)淚的天使，當(dāng)遇到自己喜歡的男孩時(shí)，便會(huì)流淚--于是變?yōu)榉踩?。所以男孩一定不要辜?fù)女孩，因?yàn)榕槟惴艞壛苏麄€(gè)天堂！

16、你出生的時(shí)候，你哭著，周?chē)娜诵χ?；你逝去的時(shí)候，你笑著，而周?chē)娜嗽诳蓿∫磺卸际禽喕?我們都在輪回中!

17、愛(ài)一個(gè)人就是在拔通電話時(shí)，忽然不知道說(shuō)什么好，原來(lái)只是想聽(tīng)聽(tīng)那熟悉的聲音，原來(lái)真正想拔通的只是自已心底的一根弦

18、當(dāng)你必須為-段愛(ài)情做承諾時(shí)，-切其實(shí)都已結(jié)束；當(dāng)你必須為一段婚姻做承諾時(shí)，一切才剛開(kāi)始。

19、每個(gè)人對(duì)待愛(ài)情的態(tài)度都會(huì)不一樣，各人有各自的愛(ài)情原則，有自己接受的底線--你最好先問(wèn)問(wèn)自己的原則和底線是什么，怎樣做能令內(nèi)心的自己真的快樂(lè)。

20、一個(gè)人一生可以愛(ài)上很多人的，等你獲得真正屬于你的幸福之后，你就會(huì)明白以前的傷痛其實(shí)是一種財(cái)富，它讓你學(xué)會(huì)更好地去把握和珍惜你愛(ài)的人。

21、愛(ài)情不是一種虛榮，要拿出來(lái)在眾人面前炫耀；愛(ài)情不是一件美麗的衣裳，要穿在外面給大家欣賞；愛(ài)情不是一項(xiàng)任務(wù)，要對(duì)親朋好友有個(gè)交待。

22、世界上最容易被忘記的東西，就是愛(ài)情

23、我們一生當(dāng)中，并不可能只愛(ài)一個(gè)人，但往往有一個(gè)人讓你笑得最甜，讓你痛得最深，往往有一處美麗的傷口，成為你身體上不能愈合的一部分！因?yàn)槟吧?，所以勇敢，因?yàn)榫嚯x，所以美麗。

24、相愛(ài)的人，不一定會(huì)結(jié)婚，而結(jié)婚的人又不一定是自己的意中人

25、要遇上一個(gè)人只要用一分鐘的時(shí)間；要喜歡上一個(gè)人只要用一句話的時(shí)間；要愛(ài)上一個(gè)人只要用一天的時(shí)間；但要忘記一個(gè)人卻要用一生的時(shí)間。

26、有一種感覺(jué)總在失眠時(shí)，才承認(rèn)是“相思”；有一種緣分總在夢(mèng)醒后，才相信是“永恒”；有一種目光總在分手時(shí)，才看見(jiàn)是“眷戀”；有一種心情總在離別后，才明白是“失落”。

27、在對(duì)的時(shí)間，遇見(jiàn)對(duì)的人，是一生幸福；在對(duì)的時(shí)間，遇見(jiàn)錯(cuò)的人，是一場(chǎng)心傷；在錯(cuò)的時(shí)間，遇見(jiàn)錯(cuò)的人，是一段荒唐；在錯(cuò)的時(shí)間，遇見(jiàn)對(duì)的人，是一陣嘆息

28、不是因?yàn)榧拍畔肽?，而是因?yàn)橄肽悴偶拍９陋?dú)的感覺(jué)之所以如此之重，只是因?yàn)橄氲锰睢?/p>

29、我們的人生，如果沒(méi)有了愛(ài)的存在，那該有多么多么的寂寞。然而，愛(ài)情有時(shí)候更像是一個(gè)童話故事，永遠(yuǎn)若即若離，永遠(yuǎn)難于把握。平淡的生活里，我們不一定可以找到自己最理想也最完美的愛(ài)情。可是，幸好，我們的心靈并沒(méi)有因此關(guān)閉那扇向往美好的門(mén)。有時(shí)候，哪怕僅僅是紙上的愛(ài)情，也可以溫暖我們?nèi)諠u荒蕪的心靈。

30、愛(ài)一個(gè)人不一定就要擁有，但擁有了一個(gè)人就應(yīng)該好好的愛(ài)她呵護(hù)她。

31、愛(ài)是一種殘忍，只有在心中的天平上秤出自己在對(duì)方心中是否有愛(ài)的分量。

32、愛(ài)情如命，生命似水。

33、攤開(kāi)掌心對(duì)著天空，掌心里有陽(yáng)光，那是我想你時(shí)莞爾的笑容；掌心里有雨滴，那是我思念你偶爾滴落的淚水......34、如果敵人讓你生氣，那說(shuō)明你還沒(méi)有勝他的把握；如果朋友讓你生氣，那說(shuō)明你仍然在意他的友情

35、不要為了寂寞去戀愛(ài)，時(shí)間是個(gè)魔鬼，天長(zhǎng)日久，如果你是個(gè)多情的人，即使不愛(ài)對(duì)方，到時(shí)候也會(huì)產(chǎn)生感情，到最后你怎幺辦？

36、不管多大多老，不管家人朋友怎幺催，都不要隨便對(duì)待婚姻，婚姻不是打牌，重新洗牌要付出巨大代價(jià)。

37、浪漫是什幺？是送花？雨中漫步？樓前佇立不去？如果兩人彼此傾心相愛(ài)，什幺事都不做，靜靜相對(duì)都會(huì)感覺(jué)是浪漫的。否則，即使兩人坐到月亮上拍拖，也是感覺(jué)不到浪漫的。

38、你知道嗎？原來(lái)那個(gè)女孩子在我的心里面流下了一滴眼淚，我完全可以感受到當(dāng)時(shí)她是多么地傷心......39、我希望我用我自己的腳步去走我自己的人生。不管這條道路是泥濘還是平地，這是我自己的選擇。

40、思憶常會(huì)在夜靜燈昏時(shí)翻開(kāi)甜酸苦辣也成了一道最凄美的風(fēng)景線，陳舊的美無(wú)法在代謝中泯滅。

41、當(dāng)你不能夠再擁有的時(shí)候，你唯一可以做的就是令自己不要忘記。

42、或許，上天不給我的，無(wú)論我兩臂怎緊扣，仍然走漏；給我的，無(wú)論過(guò)去我怎失手都會(huì)擁有，但我仍然祈禱。

43、就算明知道是讓對(duì)方痛苦的愛(ài)就不要讓它繼續(xù)下去，割舍掉。如果不行就將它凍結(jié)在自己內(nèi)心最深的角落。

44、其實(shí)人生不如意的事十之七八，夕陽(yáng)雖然西下，但在某個(gè)國(guó)家卻是日出。

45、我不知道我現(xiàn)在做的哪些是對(duì)的，那些是錯(cuò)的，而當(dāng)我終于老死的時(shí)候我才知道這些。所以我現(xiàn)在所能做的就是盡力做好每一件事，然后等待著老死。

46、沉溺于以前與回憶的人是一個(gè)很懦弱的人，因?yàn)樗ㄋ┎桓矣赂业卣暚F(xiàn)實(shí)?，F(xiàn)實(shí)是什么？現(xiàn)實(shí)就是變化。沒(méi)有不變的感情，沒(méi)有不變的人。

47、執(zhí)子之手，與子共著。執(zhí)子之手，與子同眠。執(zhí)子之手，與子偕老。執(zhí)子之手，夫復(fù)何求？

48、這個(gè)世界永遠(yuǎn)充滿著誘惑。就像猴子掰玉米那樣，看到好的又把懷里的扔了，看到好的又把懷里的扔了，到了最后，留在懷里的其實(shí)是個(gè)最小的。

49、其實(shí)癡情的人永遠(yuǎn)都抱著這樣的想法：連我自己都被自己感動(dòng)，她有什么理由不被我打動(dòng)呢？但堅(jiān)持不懈的追求只能證明你是一個(gè)堅(jiān)持不懈的人，僅此而已。

50、如果異地戀要求你要能夠忍受寂寞，而且這種戀情需要一個(gè)大團(tuán)圓的希望，就算很緲茫也好。這是一種精神支柱，是支撐著你堅(jiān)持這段感情的信念。

第五篇：《祈禱、美食、愛(ài)》電影觀后感

《祈禱、美食、愛(ài)》電影觀后感

我看的這部電影所想到的問(wèn)題也是最近我自己一直在想的問(wèn)題：我的自我，一說(shuō)到找尋自我很容易讓人聯(lián)想到一句話：如果你不是讀著書(shū)，那么就走在路上，因?yàn)樯眢w和心靈我們需要有一個(gè)在路上，現(xiàn)在越來(lái)越多的人會(huì)在自己讀完大學(xué)之后去進(jìn)行一次間隔年“gap year”，這在外國(guó)是一個(gè)很早就流行的詞語(yǔ)，而在國(guó)內(nèi)大概是在近幾年才有，在不用擔(dān)心吃喝的年代，人們更傾向于在這個(gè)時(shí)代去尋找自己的內(nèi)心，自己的聲音，而間隔年這真的是一個(gè)挺不錯(cuò)的生活方式，同時(shí)這也是一種找尋自己我、認(rèn)識(shí)自我的一個(gè)好的時(shí)間。

片中的女主角，不喜歡安于舒適的家庭，覺(jué)得自己的人生仿佛一直都是在談戀愛(ài)找男人結(jié)婚之間，而從來(lái)沒(méi)有為自己活過(guò)，也因?yàn)榉N種的原因她結(jié)束了她的那段婚姻，她下了一個(gè)很大的決心去意大利生活，去印度的修道院然后去巴厘島學(xué)習(xí)，離婚這件事對(duì)她來(lái)說(shuō)是是一件很心痛的事情，但同時(shí)她也為失去自我而在掙扎，所以盡管傷心，她還是勇敢的為自己做了一個(gè)據(jù)決定，整部電影差不多用了三個(gè)小時(shí)去講女主角在尋找生活的平衡，尋找心靈的歸屬的過(guò)程，在這一路上她把她遇到的每一個(gè)人都當(dāng)做老師，與他們交流，在他們身上學(xué)著積極樂(lè)觀、又或者是堅(jiān)持和愛(ài)，到最后幫助在路上遇到的有困難的人們，她的那種自由、不羈的性格真的很吸引我，現(xiàn)在的我，就是有點(diǎn)迷茫，大學(xué)的三年，我沒(méi)有覺(jué)得自己白過(guò)，反而覺(jué)得自己拼足了努力去過(guò)好每一天，去做好自己，對(duì)于過(guò)去的自己我是認(rèn)可的，而在面臨快要畢業(yè)的時(shí)間，我本來(lái)對(duì)自己的打算卻開(kāi)始有點(diǎn)懦弱了，我看到了自己不敢再向前踏一步的那種小心翼翼。

在大學(xué)的期間太忙，忙于各種活動(dòng)，認(rèn)識(shí)很多的朋友，以此來(lái)豐富自己，沒(méi)有時(shí)間讀書(shū)，對(duì)于旅行，更加是慌慌張張，我想正因?yàn)檫@樣，所以至今覺(jué)得自己缺少了一點(diǎn)信仰，懶是借口，害怕自己成為不了想成為的人，不敢前進(jìn)才是真的，這部片就像是給我當(dāng)頭一棒，覺(jué)得什么事情都總會(huì)有第一次，我們想要決定去做一樣?xùn)|西的時(shí)候也許就需要放棄另外一些東西，其實(shí)這并不是不會(huì)珍惜，因?yàn)槲矣X(jué)得在你“擁有”前，你要知道自己是否真的已經(jīng)確定好這件事了，例如一個(gè)人、一個(gè)夢(mèng)、又或者是一種生活的態(tài)度，每天的混混沌沌和磨蹭也只是讓事情變得更加消極、浪費(fèi)時(shí)間，所以我覺(jué)得有時(shí)候一個(gè)狠心的決定是你需要做的，對(duì)自己狠一點(diǎn)，那么你才會(huì)進(jìn)步，生活太安逸了容易讓人迷失，想太多也是一種毛病，快刀斬亂麻，也許真的只有你這樣做了，才會(huì)知道事情在改變。

還聽(tīng)過(guò)一句話：如果你現(xiàn)在覺(jué)得自己過(guò)得不快樂(lè)，你渴望旅行，因?yàn)槟阌X(jué)得你走出去了說(shuō)不定就開(kāi)心了，因?yàn)槟阌X(jué)得自己這樣一定是悶壞了才會(huì)不開(kāi)心，那就錯(cuò)了，因?yàn)闊o(wú)趣的人如果沒(méi)有一個(gè)積極的心，那么無(wú)論你去到哪里，你都是會(huì)這樣的?？赐赀@個(gè)片，我覺(jué)得我也是應(yīng)該給自己定一個(gè)硬性的計(jì)劃，然后去做去實(shí)行，這個(gè)計(jì)劃不必太詳細(xì)，因?yàn)楹芏鄷r(shí)候計(jì)劃趕不上變化，所以我們要有的是目標(biāo)，而不是一件件強(qiáng)迫自己去完成的事，在遇到的每一件事情上成長(zhǎng)，在遇到的每一個(gè)人身上學(xué)習(xí)，以一種虔誠(chéng)的態(tài)度看待世界，了解生活中我們總是會(huì)遇到的生活的另一面，理解那一面不安的我們，傷心又或者失望的我們，但是我們還是要堅(jiān)持，就像那一棟棟無(wú)聲的建筑，不說(shuō)話的我們總有一天會(huì)滿身沉淀。

所有還沒(méi)有方向的人，我們都要給自己懷有更多的正能量，畢竟只有這樣我們才能夠把日子過(guò)得更有趣啊，只有這個(gè)我們也才能夠在不斷了解自己的時(shí)候去原諒自己，與自己共存。