上一次写修心篇，原来已经是两个多月前了。
时间飞梭的速度，有点让人防不胜防。
过去的两个月经历了很多，也收获了很多。但在人多、压力又大的能量环境里，没有灵感实属正常。
现在的我，也越来越能够接受这件事了。
没有灵感的时候，就去做那些不需要灵感的事。
比如健身、控制饮食、看书，好好吃饭，好好睡觉，好好生活。
后来发现，一个人只要能够做到自洽，真的就没有什么可以轻易打倒他。
不知不觉，已经上了一周的班。
脑袋也从第一天的“一锅浆糊”，变成了现在“一块一块的浆糊状”，还在继续适应当中。
有时候觉得，上班其实也挺好的。
既可以跟一群好玩、正能量的人打交道，又可以赚到米，想想确实没啥可抱怨的。哪怕偶尔遇到一些突发事件，也难免会有那么一点不如意。
但再想想，很多所谓的磨难，不过是上天安排给我们的、包装得不太好看的礼物。
这么一想，一下也就释怀了。
所有当下觉得天大的事情，再过一个月、三个月、半年，甚至几年以后，重新站在更高、更远的地方回头看——
真的，啥也不算。
昨天发生的一幕，让我印象特别深刻。
我们的牧师依然打扮得非常精致，笑容满面。会议快结束的时候，她很平静地走上台告诉大家：
她被诊断出了乳腺癌，接下来需要离开一段时间接受治疗。等治疗好了，她再回来。期间如果有什么事情，大家就先自己处理一下。
那一刻，我听到一位同事说了一声：
“Amen.”
紧接着，其他同事开始欢呼、鼓掌。
我注意到，其实大家刚听到这个消息的时候，心理的第一反应都是震惊，但没有表现在脸上。
但也就是那么三五秒。
然后，大家接受了这件已经发生的事。
没有一个人突然把她当成“病人”。
没有人用怜悯的眼神看她，也没有人把她放在一个弱者的位置。
依然是平等。
只是平等之外，又多了满满的鼓励。
大家的掌声是祝福，也像是在用另一种语言告诉她：
你行的。我们一直都在。
这一幕让我想了很久。
如果同样的事情发生在另外一种文化环境里，处理方式也许会完全不同。
第一反应可能是隐瞒。
找一个大家比较容易相信的理由，把真正的病情藏起来。因为在一些人的观念里，“生病”好像是一件需要避讳的事，甚至害怕被别人议论、被人用异样的眼光看待。
第二，在被诊断的那一刻，整个人可能就已经先被恐惧击垮了。
哪怕本人状态还不错，身边的爱人和家人也可能立刻进入一种“你现在什么都不能做”的保护模式。
后来我一直在想：
为什么面对同一件事，人和人的反应会如此不同？
我想，其中一个很重要的原因，是有些人从很小的时候，就开始接触关于生命与死亡的教育。
他们知道，人人都会死。
区别不过是早一点，还是晚一点。
所以他们并不是完全不恐惧死亡，而是更早地知道：死亡本来就是生命的一部分。
他们也相信，一个人的身体或许有一天会消失，但生命的意义并不会因此消失。
所以，活着的时候，更要对自己的人生负责，也对自己的灵魂负责。
而很遗憾的是，我们很多人在成长的过程中，恰恰缺失了几种非常重要的教育：
生死教育、金钱教育，以及性教育。
于是，有些人一辈子恐惧死亡，却从来没有真正思考过该怎么活；
一辈子追逐金钱，却从来没有真正学过该怎么理解钱、使用钱；
一辈子经历亲密关系，却从来没有真正认识过自己的身体、边界、欲望与责任。
很多人，就这样在这三件事里迷失了很久。
写到最后，还是想祝福我的这位同事。
希望她好好治疗，早日康复。
等她再次穿得漂漂亮亮、笑容满面地站在我们面前时，我们依然会像昨天一样，为她鼓掌。
人生大概就是这样。
该来的会来，该经历的也躲不掉。
我们能做的，不过是接受已经发生的，做好当下能做的，然后继续往前走。
毕竟，很多今天看起来过不去的坎，走远以后再回头看，也不过是人生路上的一个小坡。
婷妈修心录 创作于 2026.08.22
原创发布： tingtingma.com
记录一个女人的觉醒，修复与内在成长。
未经授权，请勿转载。
《Tingma’s Inner Work Journal | 24. Gifts in Imperfect Packaging》
It has somehow been more than two months since I last wrote an entry for Tingting’s Reflections on Inner Growth.
Time moves so fast that sometimes it catches you completely off guard.
A lot has happened over the past two months, and I’ve gained a lot from those experiences as well. But when you’re surrounded by people and constantly immersed in a high-pressure environment, it’s perfectly normal for inspiration to disappear.
These days, I’m becoming more and more comfortable with accepting that.
When inspiration doesn’t come, I simply do things that don’t require inspiration.
I work out, watch what I eat, read, eat well, sleep well, and live my life well.
Eventually, I realized something: once a person learns how to be at peace and in harmony with themselves, there really isn’t much that can easily knock them down.
Before I knew it, I had already been back at work for a week.
My brain has gone from “one giant bowl of mush” on the first day to “several smaller chunks of mush” now. 😂 I’m still adjusting.
Sometimes I actually think going to work is pretty nice.
I get to spend time with a group of fun, positive people, and I get paid at the same time. When I think about it that way, there really isn’t much to complain about. Of course, unexpected things happen from time to time, and there will always be moments when things don’t go exactly the way we want.
But then I think about it again.
Many of the things we call hardships may simply be gifts from above that came in unattractive packaging.
Once I look at them that way, it suddenly becomes much easier to let go.
All those things that seem enormous right now—give them a month, three months, six months, or even a few years. When you eventually stand somewhere higher and farther away and look back—
they really won’t seem like much at all.
Something happened yesterday that left a particularly deep impression on me.
Our chaplain was, as always, beautifully dressed and smiling. Toward the end of the meeting, she calmly walked to the front and told everyone that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer.
She would need to take some time away for treatment. Once she recovered, she would come back. In the meantime, if anything came up, we should simply take care of it ourselves.
At that moment, I heard one colleague say,
“Amen.”
Then the others began cheering and applauding.
I noticed that when everyone first heard the news, their immediate reaction inside was shock, even though it barely showed on their faces.
But that lasted only three or five seconds.
Then everyone accepted what had already happened.
No one suddenly started treating her as “a patient.”
No one looked at her with pity. No one placed her in the position of someone weak or helpless.
She was still treated as an equal.
Only now, along with that equality, came an overwhelming amount of encouragement.
The applause was a blessing. It was also another way of saying:
You’ve got this. We’re right here with you.
That moment stayed with me for a long time.
I began wondering how differently the same situation might be handled in another cultural environment.
The first instinct might be to hide it.
Someone might come up with a more acceptable or believable explanation rather than reveal the real diagnosis. In some people’s minds, illness is still something to avoid talking about—something that might invite gossip, judgment, or strange looks from others.
Second, the moment the diagnosis arrives, fear itself might overwhelm the person before the illness even has a chance to.
And even if the person herself were still doing relatively well, her spouse or family might immediately enter a protective mode of, “You can’t do anything anymore.”
That made me keep wondering:
Why can people respond so differently when faced with essentially the same thing?
I think one important reason is that some people are introduced to the ideas of life and death from a very young age.
They understand that everyone dies.
The only difference is whether it happens sooner or later.
That doesn’t mean they have no fear of death. It means they learned earlier that death has always been a part of life.
They may also believe that although a person’s physical body will one day disappear, the meaning of that person’s life does not disappear with it.
And because of that, while we are alive, we have an even greater responsibility for the lives we choose to live—and for our own souls.
Unfortunately, many of us grow up without receiving several kinds of education that I believe are deeply important:
education about life and death, financial education, and sex education.
As a result, some people spend their entire lives fearing death without ever seriously thinking about how they should live.
They spend their entire lives chasing money without ever truly learning how to understand it or use it.
They spend their entire lives moving through intimate relationships without ever truly understanding their own bodies, boundaries, desires, and responsibilities.
And many people remain lost in these three areas for a very long time.
As I come to the end of this piece, I still want to send my very best wishes to my colleague.
I hope her treatment goes smoothly and that she makes a full recovery soon.
And when she once again stands in front of us, beautifully dressed and smiling, I know we will applaud for her just as we did yesterday.
Perhaps this is simply what life is.
What is meant to come will come. What we are meant to experience cannot always be avoided.
All we can do is accept what has already happened, do what we can with the present moment, and keep moving forward.
After all, so many obstacles that seem impossible to cross today become nothing more than a small hill along the road of life once we’ve walked far enough and looked back.
Tingma’s Inner Work Journal
Written on August 22, 2026
Original publication: tingtingma.com
A record of a woman’s determination,
healing, and inner growth.
Unauthorized reproduction is prohibited.
Originally written in Chinese by the author.
This English version was translated with the assistance of ChatGPT.