Chapter 13 11/Day 5: Temple in Trance

The real test of any choice is: If I were to turn back time, would I make the same choice again?No one can see the future behind the choice. Priest (The Oracle) <The End of Matrix Revolutions: The Matrix Revolutions> * Creamy, happy faces looked at me smiling.They jutted out of the red walls, were impossibly pale and hairless, and looked like Patrick Parker imitations.The contestants in the Stewart competition who were soaked in flour. ① Patrick.Stewart: Patrick Stewart, a famous British actor, played the bald Captain Picard in "Star Trek (Star Trek)". The canyon wall seemed to become an organic bright red tube, a fibrous, 2.4m high, vessel in the tide, which happened to be me.In my hallucination, I reach out and run my fingers over the fibers, they respond to my touch with tender caresses, I seem to accidentally trigger the trigger, and I start moving along the tube, along the This wave moves forward.The tube twists and turns, the fibers sticking tenderly to my face and hands as I float through the bends.

I passed only one saintly face at a time, and although I vaguely felt their life and vitality, as if my admirers were shouting at me, I could not hear the sound.An uncertain familiarity forced me to look closer at their faces, but I couldn't stop in the tube, and they continued to float past me before I could make out any of the faces.I can't tell their gender either, but they seem to be around my age, or maybe a little older.Anyway, I feel at home here, as if the faces are my friends or, more precisely, as if the faces are the faces of my friends but I don't recognize them. After moving forward for a while, I passed a passage with ease.I feel like I'm enjoying a wave of relief, but I'm also worried, what's going on now?What is this thing around?Where am I?Is this a dream?What about the canyon?The fibers around me seemed to respond to my doubts in a more stable way, and then the tube became an upward slope in front of me, and I felt no gravity, as if I was riding a roller coaster. Uphill section.The face was gone, and only the inner layer of the canyon wall remained with me.How high did I get?I think at least several tens of meters.The strength of the waves to support my body weakened, and I trembled slightly, as if I were on a roller coaster, and my feet, waist, torso and back were being dragged along.

The shaking shook me more and more, and I was in pain.I want to find out what is at the end of the ramp?Feel like seeing the entrance, I want to see what the entrance looks like, or should I go in?But somehow I knew I'd get out of this delicate lining of the canyon wall before reaching the end.The shock caused me to convulse violently, and I couldn't see beyond the slope.I'm out of the lining, away from the fading walls of the blood vessels.Without their support, I was in slow motion, but still shaking violently, as if I was about to explode.The darkness took away the mysterious tunnel, and the trembling of the dream became the trembling of reality, and my body tried to break free from the control of the night darkness of the canyon.

It's Tuesday night, just after sunset, and my sleep-deprived mind is creating the illusion that I'm flying, if not for my body, then at least for my mind. The exhaustion and the day's warmth distracted me, and I didn't have time to put my lycra pants back on, but the oncoming chill of the night meant I still had a nine-hour battle with my tiredness. I took my shorts off this morning as I attempted surgery, thinking it would be successful, so tried to use the bike pant pad as an absorbent bandage on the stump, but it didn't work.Having never been formally trained in backcountry medicine, I am proud of my on-the-spot response for so many moments requiring medical expertise.But I have decided not to attempt to amputate my arm. It has proved impossible to cut off the bone. In a state of declining physical strength, I know that any further attempt to amputate my arm is tantamount to suicide.

Dying of dehydration was more overwhelming than I expected on Saturday, and I mean psychologically.The feeling of not having water has been with me, this indomitable desert behemoth, getting closer to me every hour, insisting on not sleeping makes my body more painful, and my mind has lost its sense of space.I no longer exist in a normal time and space.My mind loses a function every minute when I don't sleep, and surviving Wednesday morning is a great achievement in terms of my deteriorating condition.I've lived longer than I thought I'd survive Tuesday night, and maybe I'll outlive myself again.

(Hang on. That's all you can do.) I decided to slip my lycra pants back under my thin tan nylon shorts.This action kept me busy for nearly ten minutes.I undid the harness from the support rope system and threw the harness at my feet.I took off my nylon shorts, and in the light of my headlights, I saw my pale, bony legs, and I was amazed at how much I had lost, maybe nine kilograms, or more, although when I walked into this canyon, I Not too fat.I still have a long way to go before I use up all my body mass, but sadly, most of my body will end up as food for the insects and scavengers of this desert biome.I pull up my bike pants, and as I insert my feet into the holes in the nylon pants, use its stretchy material to catch my shoes, allowing the tan shorts to slide back easily; followed by handling the harness twist part.It took me three tries to get the mess to come loose and get my legs through the proper loops, with one hand the straps can simply be inserted into the grooved loops, but turn the straps around and done Folding the girth in half was much more difficult, and after five minutes, I was still not done, just like before.

I was buried in darkness in this canyon, another night of hypothermia awaited me, and I couldn't rest because I had to repeatedly tense the rope around my legs and keep twitching.Between bouts of shaking, I had periods of about ten minutes of temporary relief during which I often drifted off into trance-like fantasies.My heart longs to be free, and I literally left myself several times.Sometimes I wander in my hallucinations, like a trip through a blood vessel.Other times, my spirit floats out of my body, looking at myself from above my body.My soul can leave the canyon like it did on Sunday afternoon when I was flying across the Pacific Ocean, traveling through space at the speed of light.

There were other times when I saw my friends, their bodies intact but transparent.Their spirits will briefly accompany me in the canyon until we travel together to a familiar environment.They never communicated with words, only with gestures, and somehow communicated with each other on non-verbal wavelengths: if they wanted me to feel safe and secure, then I would feel safe and secure; if they wanted me to be afraid, Then I would be terrified, but I wasn't really terrified. I was perfectly comfortable in the trance.Despite hallucinations of friends and familiar places, there is always a silent voice reminding me to come back when I need to come back and take care of myself.I often delayed my return, causing my body to shake violently from hypothermia, but I always had a way of knowing when the time came.

In reality, I was confined between the rocks and the canyon wall, and I periodically poured the upper layer of my urine from the water bag into the water bottle, dumping the foul-smelling sediment into the sand behind my feet.In order not to be so boring, I repeat this movement more times than I actually need to do it.Oh, what would it cost in exchange for a Daiquiri, a margarita, a malted milk shake, a tall glass of grapefruit juice, and a cold beer?After every thought I have, the picture of the drink appears immediately. When I close my eyes, the drink will produce a vivid projection in my mind, floating about fifteen centimeters above the eyes.The strange thing is that no matter what the drink is, it always appears in front of me in a familiar form, within reach, but I can't get anything.I'm not sure if letting the fantasy entertain itself is keeping me from breaking down?Or just make me crave that drink even more.I often have heated debates with myself: Is this good for me?Or make the situation worse?I deliberate every difficult choice.But I'm still here.

② Daiquiri: daiquiri, a cocktail made of sugar, lemon juice and rum. Battling confusion, insanity, and relentless cold all night long.I first noticed on Sunday night that the same horseshoe constellation still looms above Blue Eyed John Canyon as they pass through the sky in my line of sight between the sides of the canyon wall.I was thinking at this moment, who else is like me in this desert plateau, looking at the same sky as me?Did they also notice the rotation of the stars?The thought didn't last, and in fact, my thoughts rarely came to conclusion.My mind seems to be out of fuel, a question or an answer can only get two or three word stretches at most, and then it will fade into silence or another thought will suddenly cut in, and I can't concentrate.

My mind has automatically herded cattle to graze.Although without motivation, my mind kept track of the time accurately, either by looking at my watch or by the intuition I usually relied on.Normally, my brain has a precise ability to estimate how much time I spend doing something.For example in the early days of my siege, I'd look at my watch and think about Sanja's wedding, play with the headlights, tuck some tape around my right bicep, and my gut told me the total length would be about two minutes.No matter what I do, I have a sense of ongoing time, so my estimates are pretty close to the progress of my watch. But now, that sense of time is gone.Things seemed to take longer than they actually did because of exhaustion.I'm having a hard time understanding why the watch has only passed two minutes but it feels like ten minutes?Has the watch been damaged in an accident and it can no longer tell the time correctly?So maybe it's closer to dawn than I think, or maybe another day has passed (or maybe I'm out of my mind.) It took me a while to deduce that my watch was functioning normally except for predicting dawn, the crow It's about as predictable as the coming of the sun and the coming of night.So, it's really only half past one in the morning. I still have half an hour to pee.At least the pee is cold now; I'm glad for that.But the drink that pops up in my fantasies now and then comes with a lifelike projected image, which makes me even happier. I close my eyes and I'm eight years old now, sitting on the back porch of my grandparents' country house in Ohio, playing gin rummy with my grandpa.We cool off with soda, from a frozen two-litre bottle, into a white Styrofoam glass with five round ice cubes, and when I pick it up to sip, the bubbles make my nose Itchy.Just as I was about to drink that sweet taste, the memory suddenly turned into an image, and a styrofoam glass surrounded by a halo of light appeared in front of me. It glowed like a holy grail, and the drink kept spilling from the rim.I shuddered and opened my eyes, but it was all black in my rope bag, and the phantom was gone. ③Gin rummy: gin rummy, a card game played by two people. I closed my eyes again, and it was a late summer afternoon in 1987.In the depths of childhood memories, there are memories of me and my family and friends baling hay together on a green hillside in eastern Ohio.We are resting, and the scenery to the north is open and lush; to the south, there is a small forest on the horizon, 180 meters away.We sat in the back of the trailer and took turns pouring cold sun tea with sugar from a red and white thermos.When the thermos is in my hand, I lift it up and let the liquid drip from the lid onto my cheek.I paused to wipe the wetness from my face, and before I could gulp down the honeyed tea, the phantom disappeared again. ④Sun tea: a kind of tea popular among people in the southwestern part of the United States.The method is to put a tea bag in a water bottle and warm it in the sun to make a tea drink. A chain of hallucinations took me around the world and allowed me to see most of my life: 1985, drinking my first beer on the back porch of my house with my dad and uncle .In June 2000, Jon, Eric, Moody, and Christie and I drank hot milkshakes at a hotel in downtown Nagoya, Japan, before the Fish Orchestra performance; As I headed home on my bike from a convenience store near my suburban Denver home on a July afternoon, I was sipping on a double-length straw stuffed in a Slurpee that sat in the cup holder on the handlebar of my bike. There is one drink that keeps popping up in my head.The drink had salt grains on the rim, covering the sweetness of ice, tequila, citrus liqueur and lime.I picture my mouth watering, I want a margarita so badly, but my tongue sticks to my cotton-dry palate.My breath came through my parched throat in a wheezing sound, then my vocal cords choked and I was reminded of the fact that memories of the drink were pushed aside: I was dying. At three o'clock in the morning, I put more lip balm on my lips, hoping to retain any moisture, and it reminded me that I might do the same thing to retain moisture on my tongue.I sipped on the lip balm, curious about the calories, maybe it was worth eating a little.I took a bite out of a small piece, about a tenth of the entire stick of lip balm, and I crunched it up.It clings to my teeth and tongue, the tasteless jelly-like substance that stimulates saliva.The goo from class lip balm clings to my molars and I decide not to swallow it.I'm buoyed by the fact that I can still produce saliva, which means I'm not yet in the worst stages of dehydration.But nothing is gained beyond this conclusion.I'm still very hungry. No activity to keep me busy.During these cold hours, I have listed many trips I have had with family and friends.From Japan, Peru to Europe, Alaska, Florida to Hawaii, from rock climbing to seeing our favorite bands, I try to bring back my favorite memories.I explore the world to fulfill my purpose in life, to bring joy to myself and to inspire others with my adventures.I live my calling and live a beautiful and inspiring life every chance I get. Still, I don't want to die.I fell into a series of trance states.In one state, an unidentified male friend wearing a sacred white robe appeared in front of the rock and quietly motioned for me to follow him.We turned before the canyon wall, just to the left of the rock where my rope was anchored.I pressed down on a rock wall, and the canyon wall moved by itself, opening like a door.We left together, he went first, walked past the miraculous door frame, and we stepped into a carpeted house from the bottom of the canyon.My friend took me into a living room where more of my friends were relaxing on sofas and chairs.I felt very happy, like I finally came home after a long trip.I didn't know who the friends were, but they were chatting happily, as if at a dinner party, except that the soft whispers and rustles were beyond my ears. I'm standing in the doorway, feeling at home, but I can't interact with anyone, they exist on a different plane than me, and while we can see each other, I'm not the same as them somehow, they're not real.Friends who were talking suddenly looked up, as if they heard my thoughts, and replied: We are here when you need us.We'll be real when you're ready. I am annoyed.what happened?why am i hereAm I in my head?Am I dreaming?If I didn't sleep, how could it be?But if it's not a dream, how is this possible? I wonder if I am asleep.I'm pretty sure I didn't lose consciousness or fall asleep during this period.My muscles seemed to be unharmed except in my right arm, which would have otherwise been dragged down by the excruciating pain in my right wrist.No, this mental retreat is more abstract than my everyday consciousness, but it's not exactly a dream either. Somehow I was in the canyon but not in the canyon either. On top of that, I kept asking for confirmation of what was true, but before I could reach a conclusion, my mind gave up on the question it had just asked.My sensory perceptions provide information that this trance state actually exists.In this room full of friends, I can reach out and touch the walls and furniture, I can smell the candles on the coffee table, I can feel the breeze when someone opens the sliding door to the balcony and walks out.While mostly true, it was as if I was watching it all through a one-way mirror and couldn't be a part of it.I found out that my legs were immobilized from the knees except for the head and arms which were movable.What about the fact that the canyon wall has doors that can be opened?That was just a crazy idea. Finally, I was back in the body, and sure enough, I was shaking violently in spasms of cold.I spent another hour packing my gear and rope bag before leaving the canyon again, but this time with a friend I recognized instantly. Jon.Hey Milesy, my best friend from high school, I saw my soul float out.We entered a small, dark, and cramped square room with only room for the two of us.The room was dark save for a streak of light reflecting off the unpolished concrete floor.He flipped the light switch, and a metal shelf full of cleaning supplies appeared next to us, with an industrial mop sink in the corner to my left. Turns out, we were in a coworker's storage closet.Somehow, I knew this was in a hospital and my anticipation started running wild. (Knock on the door, Ellen! Get help! You need medical attention, and these people can help.) But Jon wouldn't let me tap on the hollow metal door, as if to tell me that it wouldn't do any good to cause a commotion. The hospital was a world away from the canyon.I've come to understand that it's not the doctors and nurses on the other side of the door who can help me, but my friend Jon, who strengthens my courage and strengthens my strength with compassion, compassion, and gratitude.I realized how lucky I was to have known him, and my confidence was revived in his presence.However, a silent voice broke the trance: it was time to say goodbye. I don't want to go, but the reality gently urges me again: it's time to say goodbye. I tugged at my thumb, nodded, signaled to Jon that I had to go and thanked him for coming.I was on the verge of tears having to leave, but I knew it wouldn't be better to stay.I re-entered my body, stiff with cold. Strong trembling began to revenge and torment my heart, probably because I ran away for too long.There was always a silent voice that existed within my actual body, a caretaker who called me back before I fell into a hypothermic sleep.In the trance state, I don't feel cold, pain, hunger, fatigue, or thirst.Whether the destination is a co-worker's closet or living room, whether it's some rural hillside vista or a heavenly clouded throne, every exodus of the soul is comforting and I don't want it to end. Indeed, Jon's visit increased my courage and my hope, and though trembling, I said aloud, letting my voice echo in the dark canyon: I had days.If I could just keep going into the trance world, feeling the presence of my mom, dad, Sanjay, and other friends, then maybe I could find a way to outlive Wednesday noon. Trances give me hope, but I also know that every trance will end with a sudden disappearance.Desperation followed me back to the canyon, where I felt cold, thirst, and other aggravating conditions.The trance, while helpful, also reinforced the idea that I was actually not free.I may have spent another ten minutes of a long cold night with a soul exodus, but those ten minutes also pushed me one step closer to a tragic fate that could not be changed.So what if I live a few more days?The search and rescue personnel still had no time to find me and rescue me. I kept escaping into a trance during the brutal nights, and the images faded from my mind the moment I returned to the canyon.If the trance state is as comfortable and comfortable as heaven, then the canyon I am in is like hell.Hell is often depicted as a crowded, hot place like Milton's Pandemonium ruled by a demon who watches over and tortures lost souls.I understand better now.Hell is indeed a deep, dark hole, but what about the heat?No.It is a very dark and cold place that makes people endure loneliness and loneliness. It is even an extremely cold prison without a warden, only prisoners who have been abandoned and forgotten by the demon king who ruled the underground world.There is no other spiritual energy, no energy that can project love or hate, good or bad.There is only one emotion in hell: utter despair surrounded by misery and loneliness. Dawn finally dispelled the bleak spell of Blue-Eyed John's Canyon, and many mosquitoes and a warm breeze greeted the morning with me.After two hours of slapping the restless insects, I'm thankful for the sunshine to soothe me.I am not so alone; the sun has come here and joined me on my journey.The brilliant golden beams sprinkled on the canyon wall ten meters behind me, taking away the oppressive feeling of the canyon.For the first time in two days, I pulled out my DSCA and snapped a photo of the sunbeams pouring into the canyon.As I gazed at the heavenly beauty of the canyon, the light seemed to emanate from the rock face rather than just reflect it.I started to get teary.I snapped a selfie before putting away my camera, and the blinding light floated behind my head like a halo.As the sun came out, the natural movement of the desert resumed: the kangaroo running around its nest, and more bugs flying around me. Part of my morning ritual is updating the shoot.Just before nine o'clock, I got the little video camera out of my backpack.Why didn't I just leave it outside?I am also not certain.Perhaps another way to keep myself busy: undo the strap on my right shoulder and re-thread its buckle. I was wondering if my parents were involved in the search?The only way I can be traced is for the relevant authorities to get my credit card purchases which can lead them to Glenwood Springs, Moab and then Green River.No wait, I paid cash for those sports drinks at Green River, damn it!Also, the investigators are really going to have to be a bit lucky to find my truck, if all they knew was that I was in Moab on Friday, a four day drive, I could be anywhere in the US right now.Once the waiting time was up and the police started actively looking for me, they had to first deduce that I hadn't deliberately disappeared and rule out the possibility that I had escaped.Then they had to decide I was still in Utah and have the National Park Service and the local sheriff investigate the most likely locations around Moab. Most frustrating of all, I'm in one of the most unlikely places in the five counties to be found.There are two dozen more popular areas closer to Moab than here, and the National Park Service and the Sheriff's Office should look at those areas before expanding to a trail as remote as Horseshoe Canyon.With limited resources, the National Park Service will call up historical data on the areas where people are most commonly missing, and focus its firepower on those areas first.Horseshoe is about three hours from town and should be one of the last places the National Park Service looks after a long day of searching. With the National Park Service unlikely to find my truck, their next step was to send a SWAT team to search Horseshoe Canyon.If they spotted my truck anytime in the late afternoon or late afternoon, it wouldn't be until the next morning that a team would be dispatched to clear the upper half of Blue-Eyed John Canyon, which was another twenty-four kilometers inward.Although, they'd find me eleven kilometers into the canyon, a hasty squad wouldn't have the tools and equipment needed to get me off the boulder.I estimate that it will take at least 24 hours from when I was found until I was freed and transported out by helicopter, but at least they will have water for me to drink, just one or two liters, I can last another day, I'm sure they won't only be a liter or two, so daydreaming about drinking as much clean, fresh water as I want distracts me from thinking about what I'm searching for. Finally, I turned on the camera, and I looked at myself on the screen before I started recording.As far as I'm concerned, I seem to be quite flexible, and I'm amazed that the inflammation in my conjunctiva has disappeared.But the dimples in my cheeks quickly offset the joy of that little good news.I cleared my throat, pressed the video button, started talking, and immediately noticed that my voice had been four degrees higher since yesterday, probably due to the tightness of my vocal cords from dehydration. Nine o'clock on Wednesday morning.I'd love to know how your investigation is going.If only someone knew how to pull up the credit card records and find places I'd been to like Glen Johnson and Moab.I rolled my eyes involuntarily, then looked blankly at my left foot below.I tilted my head to one side, speculating: Maybe the horseshoe ranger from the National Park Service will report my truck to the police, maybe.I shrugged. I remembered that there were still some things to give to other people in Aspen, so I told my parents about who to give. Anyway, my bicycle in Aspen's room belongs to John.Collier, he and Eric.Sangli lived on the same street.These addresses and names can all be found on my PalmPiot, which is in the glove box of my truck.Also, the sleeping bag in my company closet for Bill.Gist, he paid for it, so you can give it to him. ⑤PalmPilot: a handheld computer. In the end, I wanted to include some of my favorite memories on this tape.I was thinking of soda in a styrofoam glass.I said, blinking to recall the image again.I let out a small sigh, followed by another drink.And the Five Alive juice I drank at Grandma Anderson's house.Now to list some of my favorite drinks.I am thinking. I was out of breath as I spoke, but I think the memories just now are enough to motivate me to keep going.When I turned off the camera and put it on the rock, I updated the time record in my head: ninety-six hours without sleep, trapped for ninety hours, only my own urine to drink for twenty-nine hours, And twenty-five hours have passed since I drank the last drop of fresh water. As I was running the numbers, the crow flew over my head.The freedom of that bird makes me jealous. Let's talk about something lighter.It’s been four days since I last used a toothbrush with toothpaste; it’s been a week since I last shaved and my beard is now 0.6cm long.Rubbing my hands over my chin and neck, I wonder how long my beard will be by the time I get caught?Will it continue to grow for a day or two after I die?Maybe grow to 1.2 cm or even longer? Time has lost its meaning.Days and hours were counted, just for the record, and such a record did not evoke any emotional response, just a factual realization: Oh, so I have been here for so long. It's halfway through the morning and I haven't looked at my watch yet.I don't want to see how fast the days go by because that will let me know when tonight is coming, I don't expect it, the best way seems to be ignoring the time, I can't make time speed up or slow down anyway .I focused on the surreal imaginings in my mind, but due to the claustrophobia caused by long-term lack of sleep, my thoughts were suppressed, and my rational processing ability was turned off one by one. Suddenly I had an idea why not throw a rock at the rock holding me down?Perhaps this will shake the gravel off my hands a little?Maybe it's an old idea, and it's a rough move compared to my previous strategy of digging in rock with a knife.But this approach is positive.At least it's an idea that hasn't been tried. Among the pile of stones at my feet, I selected a stone the size of a melon. I stuck my left arm on the canyon wall to support my body, and then slowly rolled the stone with my legs like a bowling ball. , rolled onto his knees.When I knew how tricky this move was, I hesitated. If I miss the throw, the stone will fall directly on my leg or hit my foot.The stone weighs ten kilograms, which is very heavy for me, but I decided to do it anyway.I picked up the rock, held it over my left shoulder, and hurled it hard at the boulder, causing gravel and sand to fly all over the sky. The boulder bounced off the boulder and fell toward my feet with gravity, and my feet scrambled away to let it fall into the pile of stones.The boulders were not affected by the impact of the stones at all; most of the flying debris came from the rocks I threw, not the boulders.I need a rock harder than a boulder.I searched everywhere, kicking away any rocks that didn't fit right around my feet. And I also realized that this was the biggest obstacle that stalled my brain three days ago. When climbing, sometimes I get stuck in some difficult places.The reason I got stuck was that I didn't want to try another position, another method, so it's no surprise that I continued to fail.At that point, I learned that I didn't see all the options available and I was clinging to an obvious opportunity without fully considering how likely the other opportunities were to succeed.I should actually look around and maybe find a foothold to get my body up a bit more, or something else to grab onto that I hadn't noticed earlier. So, why am I stuck here?What other option am I overlooking?I tilted my head back, and I saw several palm-sized stones, one of which was slightly reddish, egg-like, very eye-catching; it didn't seem like an ordinary stone but an ore.Won't be harder than a boulder, but potentially as hard as a boulder, so there's a chance of making a notch I need.I reached out to take out the stone, but I didn't expect another stone to fall along with it, almost hitting my head, and barely brushing past my shoulder. (Damn falling rocks! Why didn't you warn me first.) The stone in my hand weighs about the same as a lead put.Very good.I can pick it up without spraining my hand, and smash boulders with it without letting it go.Why did it take me so long to discover it?Probably because the numbness of my arm made me distracted and confused, and this new act gave me a sense of accomplishment. My left hand was bruised all of a sudden because of the rebound force of each pounding of the boulder.After pounding a dozen times, I had to stop.It hurt my left hand too much. After doing the math, my chances of survival dwindled, and I picked up the camera to make my final plea.I began to speak, my voice tight; I had been unable to speak very well from exhaustion. It's two o'clock in the afternoon on Wednesday.It's been almost four days since I've been stuck here, and I still have something to explain.Cremation might be a good idea, after all my body may be in bad shape after this is over; if there is a pallbearer, I hope my friend JohnHai Ruiqi, Eric.Johnson, Eric.Ren Lai, Brighton.Rieger, Chip.Stone, Norm.Ruth and Mark.Fan.Yiwut will be in charge.I have listed my best friends, and while there are far more than would be necessary to get me to my final resting place, I would like to name a few more. When I was about to say something, the tape ran out.I have to rewind to start recording from the beginning.The image in the camera attracted me, and I entered into a state of ecstasy, as happy as a child watching "Sesame Street".I spent an entire hour watching the tape I had recorded.The subject matter of the video is undoubtedly quite tragic, but I still enjoyed watching it, although I began to find fault with the film left for the family, and wanted to revise it, edit it, as if I was going to remake it.What a stupid idea.我想像一下自己當導演的畫面ＯＫ，剛那樣很好，艾倫，但這一次要多用點感情。荒謬得要命。 我不看了，接著倒帶，以便可以再錄一次。帶著較緊急的口吻，我交代著要把我的骨灰灑在哪幾個我最喜歡的地方。 我想要把骨灰灑在一些我很喜歡且對我而言很特別的地方，若可以的話留一些骨灰給我的家人。然後我還沒有想好我想要請艾瑞克拿一些回加州，或許拿到海岸線去灑，我們去過大蘇爾⑥，然後往南到聖芭芭拉，那裡真是棒耶；另外，請約翰帶一些到東海岸，像是格雷拉克山是個不錯的地點，我們曾在那個地區打到豪豬；桑嘉，如果妳有經過哈瓦蘇派保護區，也把我的骨灰灑一些在那裡，那將非常特別；還有馬克，請你把我的骨灰灑在聖地亞高峰，順便做點灑骨灰儀式，那將會很棒。 ⑥大蘇爾：Big Sur，位於加州濱海一號公路旁，風景優美，為國家地理雜誌評為人生必去的五十個景點之一。 那麼嗯，最後一個請求。奇普和諾姆，你們可以和艾瑞克把我的骨灰灑一些到巴斯克的里約格蘭河，讓我在河上飄流。或許我可以經過一些海洋、河流、森林和山丘。 我還沒提到丹和茱麗葉，他們對我也很好。丹、馬克、傑生、艾利生、史提夫．帕契特還有其他加入搜救隊的人，遇到下雪的日子時，或許可以把我的骨灰灑一點在帕哈利托和狼溪。 一想到我一直沒提到我最愛的音樂會，我決定拖著又沉重又短淺的呼吸繼續說話。我不能不提二〇〇〇年我到日本看演唱會，還去了波納若音樂節⑦的事，那是我和朋友去聽演唱會的回憶中最快樂的時光之一。在那裡發生了好多好玩的事。有年新年去巨杉國家自然保護區⑧聽費希樂團的演唱會，還有年新年去波特蘭聽細起司事件樂團的演唱會感謝那些美好的事。 ⑦波納若音樂節：Bonnaroo，由Superfly唱片和AC娛樂於二〇〇二年創立，每年夏天舉行，為期四天。該音樂節被《滾石》雜誌譽為最頂尖的夏季音樂季。 ⑧巨杉國家自然保護區：Big Cypress National Preserve，位於美國的佛羅里達州。 把事情再報告一次後，我覺得我的精神多少受到一些鼓舞，但我知道我已走到了旅程的最後。直直地看著鏡頭，我做最後一次道別：我一直試圖撐住，但是時間真的慢下來了，很慢很慢。再說一次，我愛大家。為了我，把愛、和平、快樂和美麗的人生帶給這個世界。Thanks.I love you all. 下午時候，雲朵飄了進來，使峽谷的氣候變得比較溫和一點。手錶指出今天到目前為止的最高溫度是攝氏十三度。天上的雲散開了，分布在強盜公雞高原的上空，當傍晚來時，雲就消失不見了。連續五天的高溫後，今天溫度是比較低的。今晚保證會是溫度最低、最難熬的夜晚。 我沒力氣了，身體的能量完全用盡了。即使現在才剛剛傍晚，我卻不斷的發抖。我剪下一段固定點的扁帶，把它鬆鬆地繞在脖子上六圈，試圖用一些紡織品把暴露在外的皮膚覆蓋起來。或許可以讓身體多增加半度體溫，或許。 我想要繼續用手上的石頭搥打巨石，但是我無法忍受巨石施加在我左手上的反作用力。這像是一次又一次用磚塊搥打牆壁一樣。我想到我可以用左腳上的襪子包住石頭，當作護墊。雖然每一次搥打巨石的撞擊還是會弄痛左手，但這至少比用刀子挖鑿巨石好得多。 整個下午連續的搥打，我已成功移除一部分的巨石，比起前四天加起來的總和還多。由於碎片太多，我不得不把我之前拿來當作左臂袖套的黑色袋子，拿來放在右手的繃帶上護住傷口。下午六點一過，我讓疼痛的左手休息一下，然後再度拿出數位相機拍了一張沾滿灰塵的右前臂它被二點五公分厚的沙子和石頭碎片覆蓋著。把相機放下來，我拍掉這些灰塵，試著讓傷口遠離塵土。突然間，一陣無望的感覺襲來。即使以現在這樣的速度，我也不可能把巨石縮小到可以掙脫的尺寸，在死之前一定不可能。而且如果我一直沒完沒了地搥這顆巨石，我的左手會痛得不得了，不但很可能弄斷左手的無名指和小指，也很可能弄斷我左手掌最上面關節的骨頭。我看著手上的石頭，它無辜地穿著我灰色的襪子，像是戴著一頂毛帽，我還是決定放棄目前的努力。 （讓它去吧，艾倫。讓石頭留在原地。你一開始就知道這沒有用，為什麼還要讓自己遭受更多痛苦？） 我把襪子穿回腳上並盡量拉高到小腿肚上，在即將到來的夜晚裡，我不容許自己喪失任何一點可以保暖的能力。在內心深處，我知道我無法安然度過今晚。無需在內心跟自己辯論或討論，我認為我快死了，只是時間早晚的問題而已。相較我先前在剛陷入困境時的發狂，不斷用手掌猛擊巨石來發洩，現在我倒可以平靜的接受一切我無法掌控的狀況。如果我的時間到了，那就到了，我無法趕走它，或阻止它的到來。如果時間還沒到，那就還沒到，我也不必擔心什麼。 但，我知道這是盡頭了，我活不過今晚，而這樣的想法居然無法帶給我任何刺激。我已經停止奮戰了，放下想要主宰此次受困意外的企圖之後，心中釋放出一種鬆一口氣，很接近幸福的感覺。我倒想知道這是否是另一種發狂？當每一個靈魂決定放棄它的肉身以及和神的連接時的奇妙感受。這和靈魂出竅的感覺不一樣，這也不是不關心或放棄了希望，比較像是我終於放下了心理上的重擔。我感覺好像我發現了一個偉大的真相：冥冥中有某種神祕的力量操控著這一切，而且這力量從一開始就在這裡。我可以幫它取任何名字。我只知道我不必再努力什麼了，因為我並不是掌控者。 濕冷的微風把我身上的熱氣吸走了，我的顫抖更為劇烈。峽谷變成一個冰桶。這些風真的要命。 從薄暮到天亮，要度過難以忍受的嚴寒長達九個小時，但經過兩個小時後我決定是該做個最後的注解了。我的手錶顯示今天是四月三十日。下午，我對時間失去興趣，但是現在每一分鐘似乎都很重要，因為每一分鐘都有可能是最後一分鐘。我重新刻上我的名字在我左肩上面的石牆上，然後再描一次我星期六在上面刻的字母包括此刻在內的地質年代。在名字四個大寫英文字母ARON（艾倫）上，我刻上OCT 75（一九七五年十月），在我名字的下面，我又補刻了APR 03（二〇〇三年四月）。我腦子並沒有浮現五月這字眼，因為我很確定我很難熬過這酷寒的夜晚，也無法看到明天清晨。我在名字和出生月份的上面，用RIP （Rest in Peace靈魂安息）來結束我的碑文，然後我靠坐在安全吊帶上面，在還沒進入恍惚狀態之前，把刀子放在巨石上面。 神奇的是，我的內心深處突然湧現五光十色，然後我看見自己走出峽谷石縫，走進一間客廳。一個三歲的金髮小孩穿著紅色的POLO衫跑進來，越過陽光照射的木頭地板，進到我未來的家（我不曉得我怎麼知道那就是我家）。直覺還告訴我，那男孩是我的孩子。我彎下腰把他抱起來，當我把他甩上我的肩膀時，我們一起大笑。和這男孩的見面與先前的恍惚狀態有著極大的差別，之前我像是著了魔且無法和他人互動。但這一次，我能主動地採取任何行動。我是自由自在的！ 那男孩快樂地坐在我的肩膀上，當我用我的左手和右手殘肢抱著他時，他用他小小的手捉住我的雙臂。我們一會兒在房間裡開心地走來走去，一會兒在橡木地板上踮著腳跑來跑去，當我們一起快速旋轉時，男孩笑個不停。然後，很震驚地，那影像不見了。我突然回到了峽谷，他愉快的笑聲卻仍迴盪在我心裡。下意識裡，我再次確定我能活著脫離這個困境。不管先前我多麼肯定在救援來之前我會死在這裡，這次我深信我能活下來。 那個信念，那個男孩，改變了所有的事情。