The actor looks like Leonardo.When he arrived on the top the
mountain,stretching to the sky ,I really want to say:”fuck the
society!”The old man who wanted to adopt Christopher impressed me very
much.I have to admit I admire the life of adventure.I really tired of
the big city,But I still do not have the courage to abandon everything
I own.I wish I could just walk out the house,chasing something I really
want to own.But it is not going to happen forever.Most people do not
care the signficance of the life.They just live .I find I become to get
along with the institutionalized life.I tried to find the meaning of the
life many times ,at last I always gave up.Maybe no one in the world can
tell us the true meaning of our lives,but we still need to walk on.I
hope when I die,I can tell myself there is no pity in my life.

Thank you, Marie. And thank you esteemed members of the faculty, proud
parents, devoted friends, squirming siblings.

    If people did not sometimes do silly things,nothing intelligent
would ever get done.

Congratulations to all of you…and especially to the magnificent Berkeley
graduating class of 2016!

    In art, it is hard to say anything as good as saying nothing.

It is a privilege to be here at Berkeley, which has produced so many
Nobel Prize winners, Turing Award winners, astronauts, members of
Congress, Olympic gold medalists…. and that’s just the women!

    One must understand, or die..
   
    When two principles meet and cannot be reconciled one another,then
each calls the other fool or heresy.
 
    We must improve ourselves. That’s all we can do to better the
world.
    
    To imagine a language is to imagine a form of life.

Berkeley has always been ahead of the times. In the 1960s, you led the
Free Speech Movement. Back in those days, people used to say that with
all the long hair, how do we even tell the boys from the girls? We now
know the answer: manbuns.

    We imagine the meaning of what you say as something queer,
mysterious, hidden from view.But nothing is hidden. Everything is opened
up to view.

Early on, Berkeley opened its doors to the entire population. When this
campus opened in 1873, the class included 167 men and 222 women. It took
my alma mater another ninety years to award a single degree to a single
woman.

    Philosophy hunts for the essence of meaning.But There Is No Such
Thing !

One of the women who came here in search of opportunity was Rosalind
Nuss. Roz grew up scrubbing floors in the Brooklyn boardinghouse where
she lived. She was pulled out of high school by her parents to help
support their family. One of her teachers insisted that her parents put
her back into school — and in 1937, she sat where you are sitting today
and received a Berkeley degree. Roz was my grandmother. She was a huge
inspiration to me and I’m so grateful that Berkeley recognized her
potential. I want to take a moment to offer a special congratulations to
the many here today who are the first generation in their families to
graduate from college. What a remarkable achievement.

    It is the philosophers who muddy the water.

Today is a day of celebration. A day to celebrate all the hard work that
got you to this moment.

    When you want to know the meaning of words, don’t look at the side
of yourself.
 
    Philosophy is just a byproduct of misunderstanding language.
    
    The limit of my language is the limits of my world. We keep running
against the wall of our cages.

Today is a day of thanks. A day to thank those who helped you get
here — nurtured you, taught you, cheered you on, and dried your tears.
Or at least the ones who didn’t draw on you with a Sharpie when you fell
asleep at a party.

    (Wittgenstein wants to do some manual labor in Soviet Union.)
    -It is absolutely out of the question.The one thing that is not in
short of in Soviet Union is unskilled labor.

Today is a day of reflection. Because today marks the end of one era of
your life and the beginning of something new.

    (Russel is talking about Johnny.)
     -You’re forcing your own self-hatred onto their son.(Johnny’s
parents are both labors.)

A commencement address is meant to be a dance between youth and wisdom.
You have the youth. Someone comes in to be the voice of wisdom — that’s
supposed to be me. I stand up here and tell you all the things I have
learned in life, you throw your cap in the air, you let your family take
a million photos –don’t forget to post them on Instagram — and everyone
goes home happy.

    -It’s my business to stop you from infecting too many young men.

Today will be a bit different. We will still do the caps and you still
have to do the photos. But I am not here to tell you all the things I’ve
learned in life.Today I will try to tell you what I learned in
death.

    -All upper crust idealize to common folks.

I have never spoken publicly about this before. It’s hard. But I will do
my very best not to blow my nose on this beautiful Berkeley robe.

    Salvation is the only thing that concerns me.And I know we are not
here to have a good time.
   
    Philosophy is a sickness of the mind.

One year and thirteen days ago, I lost my husband, Dave. His death was
sudden and unexpected. We were at a friend’s fiftieth birthday party in
Mexico. I took a nap. Dave went to work out. What followed was the
unthinkable — walking into a gym to find him lying on the floor. Flying
home to tell my children that their father was gone. Watching his casket
being lowered into the ground.

    Living in a world such a love is illegal, to live open and honest is
absolutely impossible.

For many months afterward, and at many times since, I was swallowed up
in the deep fog of grief — what I think of as the void — an emptiness
that fills your heart, your lungs, constricts your ability to think or
even to breathe.

    The soul is the prisoner of his own body. And it’s locked out from
contact with others by the walls of their bodies.

Dave’s death changed me in very profound ways. I learned about the
depths of sadness and the brutality of loss. But I also learned that
when life sucks you under, you can kick against the bottom, break the
surface, and breathe again. I learned that in the face of the void — or
in the face of any challenge — you can choose joy and meaning.

    I want to get ride of this picture. We are what we are only because
we share a common language and common forms of life.

I’m sharing this with you in the hopes that today, as you take the next
step in your life, you can learn the lessons that I only learned in
death. Lessons about hope, strength, and the light within us that will
not be extinguished.

    Do You Understand What I’m Saying ?
 
    What I meant was that I tried to show the sort of things that
philosophy could say, and these aren’t really important. What’s much
more important is all the things it can’t articulate.

Everyone who has made it through Cal has already experienced some
disappointment. You wanted an A but you got a B. OK, let’s be
honest — you got an A- but you’re still mad. You applied for an
internship at Facebook, but you only got one from Google. She was the
love of your life… but then she swiped left.

    Philosopher in no sense can question them.Philosophy leaves
everything exactly what it is.

Game of Thrones the show has diverged way too much from the books — and
you bothered to read all four thousand three hundred and fifty-two
pages.

    We learn to use words because we belong to a culture,a form of life,
a practical way of doing things.…All this is public affair.

You will almost certainly face more and deeper adversity. There’s loss
of opportunity: the job that doesn’t work out, the illness or accident
that changes everything in an instant. There’s loss of dignity: the
sharp sting of prejudice when it happens. There’s loss of love: the
broken relationships that can’t be fixed. And sometimes there’s loss of
life itself.

    Don’t be afraid of dying. It is death that give life meaning and
shape.

Some of you have already experienced the kind of tragedy and hardship
that leave an indelible mark. Last year, Radhika, the winner of the
University Medal, spoke so beautifully about the sudden loss of her
mother.

    -I’d quite like to have composed a philosophy work which consists
entirely of jokes.
    -Why didn’t you?
    -Sadly I didn’t have a sense of humor.

The question is not if some of these things will happen to you. They
will. Today I want to talk about what happens next. About the things you
can do to overcome adversity, no matter what form it takes or when it
hits you. The easy days ahead of you will be easy. It is the hard
days — the times that challenge you to your very core — that will
determine who you are. You will be defined not just by what you achieve,
but by how you survive.

    (Thinks to @queeniepku, I needn’t to type in all these words!:)
    Let me tell you a little story. There was once a young man who
dreamed of reducing the world to pure logic. Because he was a very
clever young man, he actually managed to do it. And when he’d finished
his work, he stood back and admired it. It was beautiful. A world purged
of imperfection and indeterminacy. Countless acres of gleaming ice
stretching to the horizon. So the clever young man looked around the
world he had created, and decided to explore it. He took one step
forward and fell flat on his back. You see, he had forgotten about
friction. The ice was smooth and level and stainless, but you couldn’t
walk there. So the clever young man sat down and wept bitter tears.
    But as he grew into a wise old man, he came to understand that
roughness and ambiguity aren’t imperfections. They’re what make the
world turn. He wanted to run and dance. And the words and things
scattered upon this ground were all battered and tarnished and
ambiguous, and the wise old man saw that that was the way things were.
But something in him was still homesick for the ice, where everything
was radiant and absolute and relentless. Though he had come to like the
idea of the rough ground, he couldn’t bring himself to live there.
     So now he was marooned between earth and ice, at home in neither.
And this was the cause of all his grief.

A few weeks after Dave died, I was talking to my friend Phil about a
father-son activity that Dave was not here to do. We came up with a plan
to fill in for Dave. I cried to him, “But I want Dave.” Phil put his arm
around me and said, “Option A is not available. So let’s just kick the
shit out of option B.”

     (At last,here comes Mr,Green.)
     -Solution to the riddle of life and space and time lies out of
space and time.But as you know and as I know, there is no riddles.

We all at some point live some form of option B. The question is: What
do we do then?

As a representative of Silicon Valley, I’m pleased to tell you there is
data to learn from. After spending decades studying how people deal with
setbacks, psychologist Martin Seligman found that there are three
P’s — personalization,pervasiveness, and permanence — that are
critical to how we bounce back from hardship. The seeds of resilience
are planted in the way we process the negative events in our lives.

365bet手机版,The first P is personalization — the belief that we are at
fault. 
This is different from taking responsibility, which you should
always do. This is the lesson that not everything that happens to us
happens because of us.

When Dave died, I had a very common reaction, which was to blame myself.
He died in seconds from a cardiac arrhythmia. I poured over his medical
records asking what I could have — or should have — done. It wasn’t
until I learned about the three P’s that I accepted that I could not
have prevented his death. His doctors had not identified his coronary
artery disease. I was an economics major; how could I have?

Studies show that getting past personalization can actually make you
stronger. Teachers who knew they could do better after students failed
adjusted their methods and saw future classes go on to excel. College
swimmers who underperformed but believed they were capable of swimming
faster did. Not taking failures personally allows us to recover — and
even to thrive.

The second P is pervasiveness — the belief that an event will affect
all areas of your life. 
You know that song “Everything is awesome?”
This is the flip: “Everything is awful.” There’s no place to run or hide
from the all-consuming sadness.

The child psychologists I spoke to encouraged me to get my kids back to
their routine as soon as possible. So ten days after Dave died, they
went back to school and I went back to work. I remember sitting in my
first Facebook meeting in a deep, deep haze. All I could think was,
“What is everyone talking about and how could this possibly matter?” But
then I got drawn into the discussion and for a second — a brief split
second — I forgot about death.

That brief second helped me see that there were other things in my life
that were not awful. My children and I were healthy. My friends and
family were so loving and they carried us — quite literally at times.

The loss of a partner often has severe negative financial consequences,
especially for women. So many single mothers — and fathers — struggle to
make ends meet or have jobs that don’t allow them the time they need to
care for their children. I had financial security, the ability to take
the time off I needed, and a job that I did not just believe in, but
where it’s actually OK to spend all day on Facebook. Gradually, my
children started sleeping through the night, crying less, playing more.

The third P is permanence — the belief that the sorrow will last
forever.
For months, no matter what I did, it felt like the crushing
grief would always be there.

We often project our current feelings out indefinitely — and experience
what I think of as the second derivative of those feelings. We feel
anxious — and then we feel anxious that we’re anxious. We feel sad — and
then we feel sad that we’re sad. Instead, we should accept our
feelings — but recognize that they will not last forever. My rabbi told
me that time would heal but for now I should “lean in to the suck.” It
was good advice, but not really what I meant by “lean in.”

None of you need me to explain the fourth P…which is, of course, pizza
from Cheese Board.

But I wish I had known about the three P’s when I was your age. There
were so many times these lessons would have helped.

Day one of my first job out of college, my boss found out that I didn’t
know how to enter data into Lotus 1–2–3. That’s a spreadsheet — ask your
parents. His mouth dropped open and he said, ‘I can’t believe you got
this job without knowing that” — and then walked out of the room. I went
home convinced that I was going to be fired. I thought I was terrible at
everything… but it turns out I was only terrible at spreadsheets.
Understanding pervasiveness would have saved me a lot of anxiety that
week.

I wish I had known about permanence when I broke up with boyfriends. It
would’ve been a comfort to know that feeling was not going to last
forever, and if I was being honest with myself… neither were any of
those relationships.

And I wish I had understood personalization when boyfriends broke up
with me. Sometimes it’s not you — it really is them. I mean, that dude
never showered.

And all three P’s ganged up on me in my twenties after my first marriage
ended in divorce. I thought at the time that no matter what I
accomplished, I was a massive failure.

The three P’s are common emotional reactions to so many things that
happen to us — in our careers, our personal lives, and our
relationships. You’re probably feeling one of them right now about
something in your life. But if you can recognize you are falling into
these traps, you can catch yourself. Just as our bodies have a
physiological immune system, our brains have a psychological immune
system — and there are steps you can take to help kick it into gear.

One day my friend Adam Grant, a psychologist, suggested that I think
about how much worse things could be. This was completely
counterintuitive; it seemed like the way to recover was to try to find
positive thoughts. “Worse?” I said. “Are you kidding me? How could
things be worse?” His answer cut straight through me: “Dave could have
had that same cardiac arrhythmia while he was driving your children.”
Wow. The moment he said it, I was overwhelmingly grateful that the rest
of my family was alive and healthy. That gratitude overtook some of the
grief.

Finding gratitude and appreciation is key to resilience. People who take
the time to list things they are grateful for are happier and
healthier. It turns out that counting your blessings can actually
increase your blessings. My New Year’s resolution this year is to write
down three moments of joy before I go to bed each night. This simple
practice has changed my life. Because no matter what happens each day, I
go to sleep thinking of something cheerful. Try it. Start tonight when
you have so many fun moments to list — although maybe do it before you
hit Kip’s and can still remember what they are.

Last month, eleven days before the anniversary of Dave’s death, I broke
down crying to a friend of mine. We were sitting — of all places — on a
bathroom floor. I said: “Eleven days. One year ago, he had eleven days
left. And we had no idea.” We looked at each other through tears, and
asked how we would live if we knew we had eleven days left.

As you graduate, can you ask yourselves to live as if you had eleven
days left? I don’t mean blow everything off and party all the
time — although tonight is an exception. I mean live with the
understanding of how precious every single day would be. How precious
every day actually is.

A few years ago, my mom had to have her hip replaced. When she was
younger, she always walked without pain. But as her hip disintegrated,
each step became painful. Now, even years after her operation, she is
grateful for every step she takes without pain — something that never
would have occurred to her before.

As I stand here today, a year after the worst day of my life, two things
are true. I have a huge reservoir of sadness that is with me
always — right here where I can touch it. I never knew I could cry so
often — or so much.

But I am also aware that I am walking without pain. For the first time,
I am grateful for each breath in and out — grateful for the gift of life
itself. I used to celebrate my birthday every five years and friends’
birthdays sometimes. Now I celebrate always. I used to go to sleep
worrying about all the things I messed up that day — and trust me that
list was often quite long. Now I try really hard to focus on each day’s
moments of joy.

It is the greatest irony of my life that losing my husband helped me
find deeper gratitude — gratitude for the kindness of my friends, the
love of my family, the laughter of my children. My hope for you is that
you can find that gratitude — not just on the good days, like today, but
on the hard ones, when you will really need it.

There are so many moments of joy ahead of you. That trip you always
wanted to take. A first kiss with someone you really like. The day you
get a job doing something you truly believe in. Beating Stanford. (Go
Bears!) All of these things will happen to you. Enjoy each and every
one.

I hope that you live your life — each precious day of it — with joy and
meaning. I hope that you walk without pain — and that you are grateful
for each step.

And when the challenges come, I hope you remember that anchored deep
within you is the ability to learn and grow. You are not born with a
fixed amount of resilience. Like a muscle, you can build it up, draw on
it when you need it. In that process you will figure out who you really
are — and you just might become the very best version of yourself.

Class of 2016, as you leave Berkeley, build resilience.

Build resilience in yourselves. When tragedy or disappointment strike,
know that you have the ability to get through absolutely anything. I
promise you do. As the saying goes, we are more vulnerable than we ever
thought, but we are stronger than we ever imagined.

Build resilient organizations. If anyone can do it, you can, because
Berkeley is filled with people who want to make the world a better
place. Never stop working to do so — whether it’s a boardroom that is
not representative or a campus that’s not safe. Speak up, especially at
institutions like this one, which you hold so dear. My favorite poster
at work reads, “Nothing at Facebook is someone else’s problem.” When you
see something that’s broken, go fix it.

Build resilient communities. We find our humanity — our will to live and
our ability to love — in our connections to one another. Be there for
your family and friends. And I mean in person. Not just in a message
with a heart emoji.

Lift each other up, help each other kick the shit out of option B — and
celebrate each and every moment of joy.

You have the whole world in front of you. I can’t wait to see what you
do with it.

Congratulations, and Go Bears!

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