【TED】勇气与恐惧之间的美丽平衡
中英文稿
我们年轻时就像初生牛犊， 无畏地梦想着 我们的人生可能会是什么样。 或许你想成为宇航员 或是火箭科学家。 或许你的梦想是 环游世界的旅行。 我从很小的时候， 就梦想在世界上 某些最困难的国家里 为联合国工作。 凭借很大的勇气， 我的梦想成真了。
但关于勇气的问题是： 它并不会在我们需要它 的时候凭空出现。 它是坚韧不移的反思 和脚踏实地的努力的结果， 需要恐惧和勇敢之间的平衡。 没有恐惧，我们会做蠢事。 而没有勇气， 我们永远不会朝未知迈步。 两者的平衡 正是魔法诞生的地方， 而这是一种我们所有人 每天都要面对的平衡。
首先，让我讲讲我的神奇轮椅。 我并不是一直坐轮椅的。 我像你们很多人一样， 在奔跑、跳跃和舞蹈中长大。 我热爱跳舞。 然而，在我二十多岁时， 我开始经历 一系列难以解释的跌倒。 几年之后， 我被确诊患有 一种隐性遗传疾病， 叫做遗传性包涵体肌炎， 简称 HIBM。 这是一种进行性的肌肉萎缩症， 它影响到我从头到脚 的所有肌肉。 HIBM 非常罕见。 在美国不到 200 人被确诊。 至今我们都没有可靠 的治疗手段或治愈方法， 在发作十到十五年内， HIBM 通常会造成四肢瘫痪， 也就是我现在坐轮椅的原因。
我最初被确诊时， 一切都改变了。 这是很可怕的消息， 因为我没有慢性病或 身体障碍的经验。 我也完全不知道 这种病会如何发展。 但最让人沮丧的 是听到别人建议我 抑制自己的雄心与梦想， 改变我对人生的期望。 “你应该放弃你的国际职业。” “你这个样子没人会和你结婚。” “你生小孩的话就是自私。” 由别人而不是我自己 对我的梦想和志向设限 是荒谬可笑的， 而且令人无法接受。 所以我无视了他们。
我结了婚。 我自己做出了 不要孩子的决定。 我在确诊后 仍继续留在联合国， 在安哥拉工作了两年， 一个从 27 年残酷内战中 恢复的国家。 但是，又过了五年之后， 我才正式把我的诊断结果 报告给我的雇主。 因为我害怕 他们质疑我的应付能力， 从而让我丢掉工作。 我在小儿麻痹症 曾肆虐的国家工作， 所以当我听到别人说 他们觉得我可能是 小儿麻痹症的幸存者， 我觉得我的秘密很安全。 没有人问我为什么跛脚走路， 所以我缄口不提。
我花了十年多的时间 才适应了 HIBM 的严重性， 即使基本的动作和功能 都变得愈发困难。 然而，我继续追逐我 在世界各地工作的梦想， 甚至被委任为 UNICEF 在海地的 残疾人联络点， 在 2010 的破坏性大地震后， 我在那里任职两年。 之后我的工作 把我带到了美国。 即使疾病恶化得非常明显， 我需要腿部支架 和助步车才能出行， 我依然渴望着冒险。 而这一次， 我开始梦想 一次宏大的户外冒险。 还有什么能比大峡谷更宏大？
你是否知道每五百万个 造访大峡谷的人中 只有 1% 会下到 峡谷谷底？ 我想成为那 1% 中的一员。 唯一的问题是——
唯一的问题是 大峡谷并没有那么利于通行。 要想从五千英尺 垂直而松散的地势下去， 我得需要一些帮助。 当我面对困难时， 恐惧并不一定会立刻到来， 因为我觉得不管怎样， 我总会找到解决的办法。 而在这件事情中， 我的想法是， 如果我没法走下去， 我可以学习骑马。 于是我就这么做了。
随着这个重大决定的诞生， 我投入了四年时间， 在恐惧与勇气之间辗转反侧， 为了进行这场为期 12 天的征途。 四天骑马从南缘到北缘 横跨大峡谷， 八天划艇渡过 240 多公里的科罗拉多河， 全程由摄影组跟随。 剧透警告——我们成功了。 而我也见识了 我最深的恐惧 能以某种方式 对称地激发等量的勇气。 2018 年 4 月 13 日， 坐在离地八英尺处， 骑在名为警长的野马背上， 我对大峡谷的第一印象 是震惊与恐怖。 谁知道我会恐高呢。
但事到如今，已经没有回头路了。 我鼓起身体里每一丝勇气， 不让自己被恐惧战胜。 从大峡谷南崖出发， 我让自己保持镇定的方法 唯有深呼吸， 抬头望云， 以及把注意力集中到 队友的声音上。 然而在第一个小时内， 灾难就降临了。 我在下一大步台阶时 没法在马鞍上保持直立， 向前一扑， 脸砸在了马的后脑勺上。 现场变得慌乱， 我的头剧烈疼痛， 但山路过于狭窄， 我们无法下马。 直到 700 米处的中途休息点， 此时至少又走了两个小时下坡路， 我们才能停下来，摘下我的头盔， 看到我的额头凸出的 鸡蛋大小的肿包。 看看我们这么充分的准备与装备 怎么现在连冰袋都没有？
所幸的是， 肿胀向外扩散， 之后淤血朝脸上排出， 形成两只绝妙的黑眼圈， 在纪录片里是 无比神奇的妆容。
这并非一段轻松平稳的旅程， 然而这一点恰恰是最重要的。 尽管我害怕重新坐上马鞍， 我还是上了马。 下到峡谷谷底的路程 就花了总共 10 个小时， 这还只是骑马的四天中的一天。
接下来是强大的急流。 大峡谷中的科罗拉多河 有高度位居全国前列的白浪。 以防万一我们翻船， 大家练习让我游过一处小型激流。 我可以不夸张地说， 这毫无魅力可言。
我在浪里错误的位置换气， 被河水呛到， 没法操纵自己的方向。 没错，很吓人， 但同时也很美妙。 瀑布，光滑的峡谷， 历经数十亿年光阴的基岩 似乎随着一天内时间 的流逝改变色彩。 大峡谷是真正的旷野， 当得起所有对它的赞誉。
这次探险， 所有的筹备和旅途本身 向我展现了之前 从未体验过的恐惧。 但更重要的是， 它也向我展现了 我能有怎样的胆量和勇气。 我的大峡谷之旅并不容易。 这并不是一位亚马逊女战士 毫不费力地穿过 史诗般景色的图景。 这是一个哭着的我， 筋疲力尽，鼻青脸肿地 顶着两只黑眼圈。 这趟旅程是可怕的， 是充满压力的， 也是令人振奋的。
如今旅程已经结束， 很容易对我们的成就轻描淡写。 我知道我还想划艇渡河， 这次，划完全程 445 公里。
但我也知道我再也不会 重复一遍骑马的部分了。
实在是太危险了。 而那是我真正想说的。 我在这里并不只是 向各位展示我的影像片段。 我在这里是想提醒大家， 人生其实就是一堂课， 教我们如何寻找 恐惧与勇气之间的平衡， 以及理解什么是好主意， 什么并非是好主意。
生活已经很可怕了， 所以为了实现我们的梦想， 我们必须要勇敢。 通过直面我的恐惧 并找到克服它们的勇气， 我可以发誓，我的人生非常精彩。 所以生活要有大目标， 努力让你的勇气 战胜你的恐惧。 你永远也不会知道 它会将你带向何方。
When we're young, we're innocently brave, and we fearlessly dream about what our lives might be like. Maybe you wanted to be an astronaut or a rocket scientist. Maybe you dreamed of traveling to every continent. Since I was very young, I dreamed of working for the United Nations in some of the most difficult countries in the world. And thanks to a lot of courage that dream came true.
But here's the thing about courage: it doesn't just appear whenever we need it. It's the result of tough reflection and real work, involving the balance between fear and bravery. Without fear, we'll do foolish things. And without courage, we'll never step into the unknown. The balance of the two is where the magic lies, and it's a balance we all deal with every day.
First, a word about my fancy wheels. I haven't always used a wheelchair. I grew up like many of you, running, jumping and dancing. I love to dance. However, in my mid-twenties, I began to experience a series of inexplicable falls. And a few years later, I was diagnosed with a recessive genetic condition called hereditary inclusion body myopathy, or HIBM. It's a progressive muscle wasting disease that affects all of my muscles from head to toe. HIBM is very rare. In the United States there are less than 200 people diagnosed. To date, there is no proved treatment or cure, and within 10 to 15 years of its onset, HIBM typically leads to quadriplegia, which is why I now use a wheelchair.
When I was first diagnosed, everything changed. It was frightening news because I had no experience with chronic illness or disabilities. And I had no idea how the disease might progress. But what was most disheartening was to listen to other people advise me to limit my ambitions and dreams, and to change my expectations of what to expect from life. "You should quit your international career." "No one will marry you this way." "You would be selfish to have children." The fact that someone who wasn't me was putting limitations on my dreams and ambitions was preposterous. And unacceptable. So I ignored them.
I did get married. And I decided for myself not to have children. And I continued my career with the United Nations after my diagnosis, going to work for two years in Angola, a country recovering from 27 years of brutal civil war. However, it would be another five years until I officially declared my diagnosis to my employer. Because I was afraid that they would question my capacity to manage and I'd lose my job. I was working in countries where polio had been common, so when I overheard someone say that they thought I might have survived polio, I thought my secret was safe. No one asked why I was limping. So I didn't say anything.
It took me over a decade to internalize the severity of HIBM, even as basic tasks and functions became increasingly difficult. Yet, I continued to pursue my dream of working all over the world, and was even appointed as a disability focal point for UNICEF in Haiti, where I served for two years after the devastating 2010 earthquake. And then my work brought me to the United States. And even as the disease progressed significantly and I needed leg braces and a walker to get around, I still longed for adventure. And this time, I started dreaming of a grand outdoor adventure. And what's more grand than the Grand Canyon?
Did you know that for every five million people who visit the Rim only one percent go down to the canyon's base? I wanted to be a part of that one percent. The only thing is --
The only thing is that the Grand Canyon isn't exactly accessible. I was going to need some assistance to get down the 5,000-foot descent of vertical loose terrain. Now, when I face obstacles, fear doesn't necessarily immediately set in because I assume that one way or another, I'll figure it out. And in this case, my thought was, well, if I can't walk down, I could learn to ride a horse. So that's what I did.
And with that fateful decision began a four-year commitment, tossing back and forth between fear and courage to undertake a 12-day expedition. Four days on horseback to cross Grand Canyon rim to rim, and eight days rafting 150 miles of the Colorado River, all with a film crew in tow. Spoiler alert -- we made it. But not without showing me how my deepest fear can somehow manifest a mirror response of equal courage. On April 13, 2018, sitting eight feet above the ground, riding a mustang horse named Sheriff, my first impression of Grand Canyon was one of shock and terror. Who knew I had a fear of heights.
But there was no giving up now. I mustered up every ounce of courage inside me to not let my fear get the best of me. Embarking on the South Rim, all I could do to keep myself composed was to breathe deeply, stare up into the clouds and focus on my team's voices. But then, in the first hour, disaster struck. Unable to hold myself upright in the saddle, going down an oversized step, I flung forward and smacked my face on the back of the horse's head. There was panic, my head hurt fiercely, but the path was too narrow for us to dismount. Only at the halfway point at 2,300 feet, at least another two hours down, could we stop and remove my helmet and see the egg-sized bump protruding from my forehead. For all of that planning and gear, how is it that we didn't even have an ice pack?
Luckily for all of us, the swelling came outwards, and would drain into my face as two fantastic black eyes which is an amazing way to look in a documentary film.
This was not an easy, peaceful journey, and yet, that was exactly the point. Even though I was afraid to get back into the saddle, I got back in. The descent alone to the canyon floor took a total of 10 hours and that was just day one of four riding.
Next came the mighty rapids. The Colorado River in the Grand Canyon has some of the highest white water in the country. And just to be prepared in case we should capsize, we'd practice having me swim through a smaller rapid. And it's safe to say it wasn't glamorous.
I took my breath in the wrong part of the wave, choked on river water and was unable to steer myself. Yes, it was scary, but it was also fantastic. Waterfalls, slick canyons and a couple billion years of bedrock that seemed to change color throughout the day. The Grand Canyon is true wilderness and worthy of all of its accolades.
The expedition, all that planning and the trip itself, showed me a level of fear I had never experienced before. But more importantly, it showed me how boldly courageous I can be. My Grand Canyon journey was not easy. This was not a vision of an Amazonian woman effortlessly making her way through epic scenery. This was me crying, exhausted and beat up with two black eyes. It was scary, it was stressful, it was exhilarating.
Now that the trip is over, it's easy to be blasé about what we achieved. I know I want to raft the river again. This time, all 277 miles of it.
But I also know that I would never do the horseback-riding part again.
It's just too dangerous. And that's my real point. I'm not just here to show you my film footage. I'm here to remind us all that life is really just a lesson in finding the balance between fear and courage. And understanding what is and what isn't a good idea.
Life is already scary, so for our dreams to come true, we need to be brave. In facing my fears and finding the courage to push through them, I swear my life has been extraordinary. So live big and try to let your courage outweigh your fear. You never know where it might take you.
Thank you.
