Should you just give up ?

Around fifteen years ago, an old college friend of mine had a close call in the mountains.

大约十五年前，我的一位大学老朋友在山里遇到了一次险情。

He and a companion were on a ski trip when they decided to hike away from the top of the chairlift to find a cool, unofficial ski run they’d heard about.

他和一个同伴在一次滑雪旅行中，决定从缆车顶部徒步离开，去寻找他们听说过的一个很酷的非官方滑雪道。

They seemed to be heading in the right direction, but soon got lost;

他们似乎正朝着正确的方向前进，但很快就迷失了方向。

when they tried turning back, they grew only more disoriented.

当他们试图回头时，却变得更加迷失方向。

They ended up wandering for hours in the snowy woods.

他们最终在白雪皑皑的树林里徘徊了几个小时。

They had their cell phones, and considered calling for help, but my friend had heard that a rescue might cost thousands of dollars, and hesitated;

他们拿着手机，考虑寻求帮助，但我的朋友听说救援可能要花费数千美元，所以犹豫了；

meanwhile, morning gave way to afternoon, and then late afternoon.

与此同时，上午让位于下午，然后是下午晚些时候。

Eventually, they looked at their phones, only to find that both had stopped working.

最终，他们查看了手机，却发现手机都停止工作了。

They were in serious trouble—in fact, they were on the verge of catastrophe.

他们遇到了严重的麻烦——事实上，他们正处于灾难的边缘。

Then my friend smelled a sweetness in the air.

然后我的朋友闻到了空气中的甜味。

His companion smelled it, too.

他的同伴也闻到了。

They followed the scent through the trees.

他们循着气味穿过树林。

It took them directly to a little shack, near the top of the chairlift, that specialized in waffles.

他们直接来到缆车顶部附近的一个小棚屋，专门卖华夫饼。

When should you give up?

什么时候应该放弃？

You certainly don’t want to give up too soon on finding your way out of the woods, and call the ski patrol unnecessarily.

您当然不想太早放弃寻找走出树林的出路，并不必要地呼叫滑雪巡逻队。

Similarly, you don’t want to give up on your dreams before they’re realized, or on your relationships because they’re sometimes troublesome;

同样，你不想在梦想实现之前放弃它们，或者因为有时会带来麻烦而放弃你的人际关系；

you want to be a reliable, determined, heroic individual—someone with grit, who follows through.

你想成为一个可靠、坚定、英雄的人——一个有勇气、坚持到底的人。

But, also, persevering can be a grave mistake: sometimes, either actually or metaphorically, you need to admit that you’re lost and call for rescue.

但是，坚持也可能是一个严重的错误：有时，无论是实际上还是隐喻，你都需要承认自己迷路了并寻求救援。

How much effort is enough?

多少努力才足够？

And when does continued effort become unwise?

什么时候继续努力会变得不明智？

In “Meditations for Mortals: Four Weeks to Embrace Your Limitations and Make Time for What Counts,” Oliver Burkeman, a journalist turned self-help writer, argues that we ought to give up a little more often, and more pervasively.

奥利弗·伯克曼（Oliver Burkeman）是一位记者转行的自助作家，在《凡人的沉思：用四个星期拥抱自己的局限性并为重要的事情腾出时间》一书中，他认为我们应该更频繁、更普遍地放弃。

Burkeman focusses not on risky alpine adventures but on ordinary life.

伯克曼关注的不是危险的高山探险，而是平凡的生活。

Many people, he argues, refuse to give up: they are perfectionists who strive ceaselessly to get control of their lives as workers, parents, citizens, and friends.

他认为，许多人拒绝放弃：他们是完美主义者，不断努力控制自己作为工人、父母、公民和朋友的生活。

Unfortunately, Burkeman writes, experiencing life “as an endless series of things we must master, learn, or conquer” has the effect of turning it into “a dull, solitary, and often infuriating chore, something to be endured, in order to make it to a supposedly better time, which never quite seems to arrive.”

不幸的是，伯克曼写道，将生活体验为“一系列我们必须掌握、学习或征服的无穷无尽的事物”，其结果是把它变成“一项枯燥、孤独、常常令人恼火的苦差事，必须忍受的事情，才能使生活变得美好”。到了一个据说更好的时代，但这个时代似乎永远不会到来。”

As a counterbalance, Burkeman advocates “imperfectionism.”

作为平衡，伯克曼提倡“不完美主义”。

He invokes the British Zen master Houn Jiyu-Kennett, who, instead of lightening the burden she placed on her students, made it “so heavy that he or she would put it down.”

他引用了英国禅宗大师霍恩·吉宇·肯尼特 (Houn Jiyu-Kennett) 的话，她不但没有减轻她给学生们带来的负担，反而让负担“如此沉重，以至于他或她会放下它”。

Once her charges saw their situations as “totally irredeemable,” they gave themselves “permission to stop struggling.”

一旦她的指控者认为自己的处境“完全无法挽救”，他们就“允许自己停止挣扎”。

Burkeman isn’t saying that we should give up completely on our ambitions, hopes, plans, and so on.

伯克曼并不是说我们应该完全放弃我们的抱负、希望、计划等等。

Instead, his idea is that acknowledging our limits will allow us to accomplish more of what matters to us while “enjoying life now.”

相反，他的想法是，承认我们的局限性将使我们能够完成更多对我们来说重要的事情，同时“享受现在的生活”。

In an early chapter, he writes that many of us aspire to command our lives as though we were the captain of a superyacht, controlling our route “from the plush-leather swivel chair on the serene and silent bridge.”

在前面的一章中，他写道，我们中的许多人渴望掌控自己的生活，就好像我们是超级游艇的船长一样，“在宁静而安静的桥上的毛绒皮革转椅上”控制我们的路线。

Yet it’s more realistic to see each of us as occupying “a little one-person kayak,” tossed about by waves and “borne along on the river of time” toward death.

然而，更现实的是，我们每个人都占据着“一艘小单人皮划艇”，被波浪抛来抛去，“沿着时间之河漂流”走向死亡。

What being in a kayak means, in practical terms, is that you should try less planning and more doing.

实际上，乘坐皮划艇意味着您应该少做计划，多做事。

Instead of setting out to become a master meditator—and buying the requisite books, candles, cushion, and app—you should simply try meditating for five minutes today, and see what happens.

与其一开始就想成为一名冥想大师，并购买必要的书籍、蜡烛、垫子和应用程序，不如今天就尝试冥想五分钟，看看会发生什么。

Along the same lines, you might aim to adopt “dailyish” habits, or pat yourself on the back for managing three hours of truly focussed work in a day.

同样，您可能会致力于养成“日常”习惯，或者为自己在一天中真正专注地工作三个小时而感到庆幸。

Burkeman thinks that it’s possible to scale back at the highest level, too, by thinking differently about what you should be doing with your life as a whole.

伯克曼认为，通过以不同的方式思考你应该在整个生活中做什么，也可以在最高水平上缩减规模。

He tells a story about Carl Jung, who, as a teen-ager, suffered from fainting spells and couldn’t focus on his studies.

他讲述了卡尔·荣格（Carl Jung）的故事，卡尔·荣格（Carl Jung）在青少年时期曾一度昏厥，无法集中精力学习。

One day, Jung overheard his father lamenting his son’s condition: the family didn’t have much money, his father said, and he worried about how his son would support himself.

有一天，荣格无意中听到父亲感叹儿子的处境：父亲说家里没有多少钱，他担心儿子如何养活自己。

The boy felt a sudden clarity: it was obvious that he should devote himself to succeeding at school.

男孩突然明白了：很明显，他应该致力于在学校取得成功。

This, Jung later wrote, was his “life task” at that time.

荣格后来写道，这是他当时的“人生任务”。

Your life task, Burkeman explains, is what emerges at the intersection of your circumstances and your abilities.

伯克曼解释说，你的人生任务是你的环境和你的能力交叉时出现的。

“Never mind what you want.

“别管你想要什么。

What does life want?”

生活到底想要什么？”

he asks.

他问道。

A life task is less exalted, and more grounded, than your “calling” or your “destiny.”

与你的“使命”或“命运”相比，人生任务不那么崇高，而更脚踏实地。

You may dream of becoming a director or a C.E.O.

您可能梦想成为一名董事或首席执行官。

But, “if you only have a hundred dollars in the bank, your life task won’t require the immediate purchase of thousands of dollars’ worth of moviemaking equipment,” Burkeman writes.

但是，“如果你银行里只有一百美元，你的人生任务就不需要立即购买价值数千美元的电影制作设备，”伯克曼写道。

“If you’re the single parent of three small children, it won’t involve working eighteen-hour days for a tech start-up.”

“如果你是三个小孩的单亲家长，就不需要为一家科技初创公司每天工作 18 小时。”

Your life task, right now, might be smaller and more obvious—writing a song, raising a child, getting a new job, or continuing in the one you have.

现在，你的人生任务可能更小、更明显——写一首歌、抚养孩子、找到一份新工作，或者继续现有的工作。

Think of the contribution you can make “in the place where you actually find yourself,” Burkeman suggests.

伯克曼建议，想想你“在你真正发现自己的地方”可以做出的贡献。

He seems to have followed this general principle while writing his book: it comprises twenty-eight very short chapters, meant to be read in the course of twenty-eight days.

他在写这本书时似乎遵循了这个一般原则：它由二十八个非常短的章节组成，需要在二十八天内读完。

Even if you can’t commit to reading the whole thing, you can paddle your way through a few pages at a time.

即使您无法保证阅读整本书，您也可以一次浏览几页。

“Meditations for Mortals” provides useful answers to the questions of when and why you should give up: you should do it when your optimized, productivity-hacked life starts to feel constricting, deadening, or unrealistic, so that you can get more value out of your all-too-brief existence.

《凡人沉思》为你何时以及为何应该放弃的问题提供了有用的答案：当你优化的、生产力下降的生活开始感到压抑、沉闷或不切实际时，你应该放弃，这样你才能获得更多价值你短暂的存在。

In his book “On Giving Up,” the celebrated psychoanalyst Adam Phillips takes the “why” question a lot further.

著名精神分析学家亚当·菲利普斯（Adam Phillips）在他的《论放弃》一书中进一步探讨了“为什么”问题。

“Pragmatism or mourning,” he writes, are two aspects of the titular act.

他写道，“实用主义或哀悼”是名义行为的两个方面。

In giving something up, we can trade it away “in the service of an appealing or at least viable future”—as when we give up on one project to make room for another—or we can simply let it go, experiencing “a felt relinquishing of the past in the hope of more life emerging.”

在放弃某些东西时，我们可以“为了一个有吸引力的或至少可行的未来”而放弃它——就像我们放弃一个项目为另一个项目腾出空间一样——或者我们可以简单地放手，体验“一种感觉”放弃过去，希望更多的生命出现。”

Phillips notes that Samuel Johnson, in his dictionary, offered numerous definitions of “to give up”: “to resign;

菲利普斯指出，塞缪尔·约翰逊在他的字典中对“放弃”给出了多种定义：“辞职；辞职；放弃”。

to quit;

退出；

to yield;

屈服；

to abandon;

放弃；

to deliver.”

交付。”

Abandoning doesn’t sound so good, but the other options are “strikingly unpunishing.”

放弃听起来不太好，但其他选择“惊人地不受惩罚”。

Each day, for instance, we give up on being awake in order to deliver ourselves to sleep.

例如，每天我们都会放弃清醒，以便让自己入睡。

It’s no big deal.

这没什么大不了的。

In Phillips’s view, we have a bias against giving up;

在菲利普斯看来，我们对放弃有偏见；

we associate it with failure, mortality, and even suicide, as though every act of relinquishment were a step away from life.

我们把它与失败、死亡，甚至自杀联系在一起，仿佛每一次放弃的行为都离生活一步之遥。

“Heroes and heroines are people who don’t give up,” he writes.

“英雄和女英雄都是那些不放弃的人，”他写道。

And yet tragic heroes are tragic precisely because they never give up;

然而悲剧英雄之所以悲剧，正是因为他们永不放弃；

hell-bent on their purposes, they pursue them until they destroy themselves.

他们一心一意地追求自己的目标，直至毁灭自己。

During a conversation, we might be telling a story or making a point when the conversation drowns us out;

在谈话过程中，我们可能正在讲故事或表达观点，但谈话却淹没了我们的注意力；

this can be an infuriating experience.

这可能是一次令人恼火的经历。

But our anguish, Phillips suggests, flows partly from the bizarre way we associate giving up with annihilation.

但菲利普斯认为，我们的痛苦部分源于我们将放弃与毁灭联系在一起的奇怪方式。

We yearn to be dauntless, and dauntless people “are people who cannot interrupt themselves or be interrupted”:

我们渴望无所畏惧，而无所畏惧的人“是不能打断自己或被打断的人”：

They are people who have refused the benefits of giving up, or even of hesitation, people for whom giving up feels like giving up everything.

他们拒绝接受放弃甚至犹豫的好处，对他们来说，放弃就像放弃一切。

Not being able to give up is not to be able to allow for loss, for vulnerability;

不能放弃就是不能允许损失、脆弱；

not to be able to allow for the passing of time, and the revisions it brings.

不能允许时间的流逝及其带来的修改。

It’s possible to feel that giving up is only noble, or only allowed, when you’re forced to do it.

当你被迫这样做时，你可能会觉得放弃是高尚的，或者是被允许的。

But we should accept, Phillips writes, that, although “giving up requires a sense of an ending,” it “may not involve a sense of completion.”

但菲利普斯写道，我们应该接受，尽管“放弃需要一种结束感”，但它“可能并不意味着一种完成感”。

When we give up drinking—for the winter, or for Lent, or forever—we can do so without a sense of being pushed into it;

当我们戒酒时——无论是冬天、四旬斋还是永远——我们都不会感到被迫戒酒；

we don’t need to hit bottom.

我们不需要触底。

We might just want to change, or to act differently.

我们可能只是想改变，或者采取不同的行动。

When we give up on an unfinished novel, we could understand it as a moment of failure—or we could simply say that we’ve decided to turn the page.

当我们放弃一本未完成的小说时，我们可以将其理解为失败的时刻，或者我们可以简单地说我们已经决定翻开新的一页。

Is it time to leave New York?

是时候离开纽约了吗？

To close the restaurant?

关闭餐厅？

To break up the band?

解散乐队？

We can mourn these things without mourning ourselves.

我们可以哀悼这些事情，而不用哀悼我们自己。

They’re what’s ending, not us.

结局是他们，而不是我们。

Are Burkeman and Phillips correct?

伯克曼和菲利普斯正确吗？

Should we, as a general matter, see giving up as a sign not of weakness but of imagination, acceptance, or wisdom?

一般来说，我们是否应该将放弃视为软弱的表现，而是想象力、接受或智慧的表现？

In my late twenties, I was in graduate school and in the middle of writing my thesis when the 2008 financial crisis destroyed the professorial job market.

在我三十多岁的时候，我正在读研究生，正在写论文，2008 年的金融危机摧毁了教授就业市场。

My adviser suggested that I find something else to do until the market recovered—a way of circling the runway until the storm cleared.

我的顾问建议我在市场复苏之前找点别的事情做——一种绕跑道飞行直到暴风雨过去的方法。

Or, he added, I could just move on.

或者，他补充道，我可以继续前进。

“You’ve taught students, you’ve given talks, you’ve lived this life,” he said, gesturing around his book-lined office.

“你教过学生，你做过演讲，你过着这样的生活，”他指着摆满书籍的办公室说道。

“You don’t have to do the same thing forever.”

“你不必永远做同样的事情。”

It was a life-changing conversation: slowly, throughout the next few years, I gave up on being a professor and became a journalist.

这是一次改变我人生的谈话：在接下来的几年里，我慢慢地放弃了教授的职位，成为了一名记者。

Even now, I think of his advice all the time.

即使现在，我仍然时常想起他的建议。

Recently, when my son outgrew a certain way in which we’d played together, I thought: “You don’t have to do the same thing forever.”

最近，当我儿子长大后不再适应我们一起玩耍的某种方式时，我想：“你不必永远做同样的事情。”

At other times, though, I’ve given up and regretted it.

但有时，我会放弃并后悔。

I’ve set aside projects that can never be resumed, or friendships that will never be rekindled.

我已经搁置了一些永远无法恢复的项目，或者永远无法重燃的友谊。

I gave up on a troubled relationship with a relative who later had a disabling stroke, after which our bond could never be repaired.

我放弃了与一位亲戚的麻烦关系，这位亲戚后来中风了，从此我们的关系再也无法修复。

Sometimes we give up wrongly, or with devastating results;

有时我们的放弃是错误的，或者会带来毁灭性的结果；

we might not even know the costs of what we’ve foregone.

我们甚至可能不知道我们所放弃的东西的代价。

It would be nice if, before we gave up, we could decide on the meaning of what we’re doing.

如果在我们放弃之前，我们能够决定我们正在做的事情的意义，那就太好了。

We can certainly tell ourselves that we’re being reasonable, or making room for something new.

我们当然可以告诉自己，我们是合理的，或者为新事物腾出空间。

Often, though, it’s the unfolding of events themselves that determines the shape of the story.

不过，通常情况下，事件本身的展开决定了故事的形式。

My wife and I met on the last day of college, then went our separate ways;

我和妻子是在大学的最后一天认识的，然后就分道扬镳了。

afterward, I wrote her a note, suggesting that we should hang out, but she didn’t write back.

后来我给她写了一张便条，建议我们出去玩，但她没有回信。

A few weeks went by;

几个星期过去了；

I wasn’t sure what to do.

我不知道该怎么办。

In the end, after some hesitation, I decided to use a new technology—e-mail—and write to her again.

最后，经过一番犹豫，我决定使用一种新技术——电子邮件——再次给她写信。

Our lives are made of moments like these: opportunities missed, or barely seized.

我们的生活由这样的时刻组成：错过或几乎没有抓住机会。

Burkeman and Phillips are right to say that giving up can be useful, but it’s also a way of embracing uncertainty, not exerting control—and, for that reason, it can’t be easily domesticated.

伯克曼和菲利普斯说放弃是有用的，这是正确的，但它也是一种拥抱不确定性而不是施加控制的方式——因此，它不容易被驯化。

It brings us too close to the unanswerable question, What if?

它让我们太接近一个无法回答的问题：如果呢？