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[NPR] 【整理】2008-09-05&09-07 攀岩给我活下去的勇气

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[NPR] 【整理】2008-09-05&09-07 攀岩给我活下去的勇气

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Deciding To Live 活着的理由


In the depths of depression, writer Kij Johnson considered jumping off a bridge. But then she took up rock climbing and discovered the sport could help her embrace the risks and joys of life.


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【整理】--By Sasha

 

 

From NPR news, this is Weekend edition. I am Liane Hanson. 

 

I believe in mystery,

I believe in family,

I believe in being who I am,

I believe in the power of failure,

And I believe normal life is extraordinary.

This I believe.

 

Our "This I Believe" essay today was sent in by Kij Johnson of Seattle Washington. She works at a software company by day, and writes science fiction novels by night. But her belief is not about her work. It's about something deeper and darker, and about the way she rolls above it. Here is our series curator, independent producer Jay Alison.

 

We are struck by how many of our contributors use their essays to talk about stories that even those close to them don't know. Kij Johnson choose to write about something she says will come as a surprise to many of her friends and coworkers. But that it was more important to say it than worry about it. Here is Kij Johnson with her essay for "This I Believe".

 

I believe I am a climber.

 

Three years ago, a series of medical and personal crises took what was a clinical depression, and made it something much darker.

 

I thought of it as falling as jumping off a bridge on a rainy winter day. Three seconds in the air before I hit the water, and plunged deep into the icy cold, my heavy coat pulling me deeper, and the surface far overhead, too far away.

 

This is the question that kept me from making the image a real one. What if I changed my mind? Jumping into the water, the air in my lungs would fail me before I could swim back to the living world. I would know for those last seconds that I did want to live after all. But it would be too late.

 

I am not sure why I started climbing. I walked through the door of the local climbing gym one day on a whim(一时性起). It was an alien world, strong, beautiful, men and women, towering walls under sodium vapor lights(钠气灯), white dust filling the air, light instead of dark, up instead of down. It was in every way the opposite of what was inside me.

 

The second time I climbed, I got to a move where I was sure I would fall. I was 25 feet up on a rope, but I didn't know yet that I could trust it. I heard my voice say out loud, "I have a choice here, fear or joy", what I meant was "climb or don't climb, live or die".

 

In the more than two years since then, I have climbed hundreds of days, inside and out, sometimes tied to a rope, often not. I do pay a price here. My body can be so bruised from hitting walls that people asked me about my home situation. Nine months ago, I broke my leg and ankle. I healed fast, but the risk remains, next time I might not.

 

Climbing requires a cold-blooded decision to live, if I am inattentive or careless, I will fall. Every time I climb at the gym, or rope up for a route outside, or go bouldering which is climbing without a rope, and often more dangerous, I am taking a risk and I am committing to staying alive.

 

Now I believe in climbing, in not jumping. Jumping would have been easy, just step over the bridge railing and let go. Climbing is harder but worth it. I believe that deciding to live was the right decision.

 

There's no way to describe the terrible darkness of depression in a way that non-depressed people can understand. Now I am less focused on the darkness. Instead, I think about the joy I feel in conquering it, and the tool I used.

 

I am a climber and I am alive.

 

Kij Johnson with her essay for "This I believe". Since taking up climbing, Johnson has also tried out motorcycling, sea kayaking, badminton, and collage(拼贴画) making. As always we invite you to tell us the story of your belief. You can find information about submitting along with all the essays at NPR.org. For "This I Believe", I am Jay Alison.

 

Jay Alison is co-editor with Dan Gediman, John Gregory and Viki Merrick of the book This I Believe, the personal philosophies of remarkable men and women.

 

Support for This I Believe comes from Prudential Retirement.

 

This I believe is independently produced by Jay Alison and Dan Gediman with John Gregory and Viki Merrick. There is a “This I Believe” journal and date planner that might help you write your own statement of belief. It’s available from the NPR Shop and at npr.org/thisibelieve.

[ 本帖最后由 sasha_lu 于 2009-3-8 19:34 编辑 ]

普特在线文本比较普特在线听音查字普特在线拼写检查普特文本转音频

支持普特英语听力就多多发帖吧!您们的参与是对斑竹工作最大的肯定与支持!如果您觉得还不错,推荐给周围的朋友吧~
I skipped one part at the beginning and one part at the end.


Our "This is what I Believe" essay today was sent by Katrina Johnson of Seattle Washington. She works at a software company by day, and writes science fiction novels by night. But her belief is not about her work. It's about something deeper and darker, and about the way she rolls above it. Here is our curious reader independent producer Jay Ellison.

We are striken by how many contributors use their essays to talk about stories that even those close to them don't know. K J chose to write about something she says will come as a surprise to many of her friends and coworkers. But it was more important to say it than worry about it. Here is K J with her essay for "this is what I believe".

I believe I am a climber. Three years ago, a serious medical and personal crisis took over what was a chronic depression, and made something much darker. I thought it was falling as jumping off a bridge on a rainy winter day. Three seconds in the air before I hit the water, and plunged deep into the icy cold, my heavy coat pulling me deeper, and the surface far off head, too far away. This is the question that kept me from making the image a real one. What if I change my mind, jumping into the water, the air in my lungs would fail me before I can swim back to the living world. I would know for those last seconds, that I did want to live after all. But it would be too late.

I am not sure why I started climbing. I walked through the door at a local climbing gym one day on a w*. It was an airy world, strong, beautiful, men and women, toweling ****** lights, white dusts filling the air, light instead of dark, up instead of down. It was in every way the opposite of what was inside me. The second time I climbed, I got to a move I was sure I would fall. I was 25 feet up on a rope, but I didn't know yet that I can be trusted. I heard my voice say out aloud, "I have a choice here, fear or joy", what I meant was "climb or don't climb, live or die". In the more than two years since then, I have climbed hundreds of days, inside-out, sometimes tied to a rope, often not. I do pay a price here. My body can be so bruised for hitting walls that people asks me about my home situation. Nine months ago, I break my leg and ankle. I healed fast, but the risk remains, next time I might not.

Climbing requires a cold-blooded decision to live, if I was inattentive or careless, I will fall. Every time I climb in the gym, or rope up for a route outside, or go baldly which is climbing without ropes, often more dangerous, I am taking a risk and I am committing to staying alive. Now I believe in climbing, in not jumping. Jumping would have been easy, just step off the bridge b* and let it go. Climbing is harder but worth it. I believe the deciding to live is the right decision. There's no way to describe the terrible darkness of depression in a way that non-depressed people can understand. Now I am less focused on darkness. In stead, I think about the joy I feel and conquering it, and the tool I used. I am a climber and I am alive.

K Johnson with her essay "this is what I believe". Since taking climbing, Johnson also tried out motocycling, sailing *, badminton, and karaage making. As always we invited you to tell us the story about "what you believe". You can find the information about submitting all the essays at NPR dot work. For "this is what I believe", I am Jay Ellison.
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on leileicats

 

I believe in mystery,

I believe in family,

I believe in being who I am,

I believe in the power of failure,

and I believe normal life is extraordinary.

This I believe.

 

Our "This is what I Believe" essay today was sent in by Kij Johnson of Seattle Washington. She works at a software company by day, and writes science fiction novels by night. But her belief is not about her work. It's about something deeper and darker, and about the way she rolls above it. Here is our series creator independent producer Jay Alison.

We are struck by how many of our contributors use their essays to talk about stories that even those close to them don't know. Kij Johnson chose to write about something she says will come as a surprise to many of her friends and coworkers. But it was more important to say it than worry about it. Here is Kij Johnson with her essay for "This // I Believe".

I believe I am a climber. Three years ago, a series of medical and personal crisis took over what was a clinical  depression, and made it something much darker. I thought it was falling as jumping off a bridge on a rainy winter day. Three seconds in the air before I hit the water, and plunged deep into the icy cold, my heavy coat pulling me deeper, and the surface far over head, too far away. This is the question that kept me from making the image a real one. What if I change my mind, jumping into the water, the air in my lungs would fail me before I can swim back to the living world. I would know for those last seconds, that I did want to live after all. But it would be too late.

I am not sure why I started climbing. I walked through the door of a local climbing gym one day on a win. It was an alien world, strong, beautiful, men and women, towering walls under * and vapor lights, white dusts filling the air, light instead of dark, up instead of down. It was in every way the opposite of what was inside me. The second time I climbed, I got to a move where I was sure I would fall. I was 25 feet up on a rope, but I didn't know yet that I can / trust it. I heard my voice say out aloud, "I have a choice here, fear or joy", what I meant was "climb or don't climb, live or die". In the more than two years since then, I have climbed hundreds of days, inside and out, sometimes tied to a rope, often not. I do pay a price here. My body can be so bruised from hitting walls that people ask me about my home situation. Nine months ago, I broke my leg and ankle. I healed fast, but the risk remains, next time I might not.

Climbing requires a cold-blooded decision to live, if I am inattentive or careless, I will fall. Every time I climb at the gym, or rope up for a route outside, or go boardering which is climbing without ropes, then often more dangerous, I am taking a risk and I am committing to staying alive. Now I believe in climbing, in not jumping. Jumping would have been easy, just step over the bridge b* and let / go. Climbing is harder but worth it. I believe the deciding to live was the right decision. There's no way to describe the terrible darkness of depression in a way that non-depressed people can understand. Now I am less focused on the darkness. Instead, I think about the joy I feel and conquering it, and the tool I used. I am a climber and I am alive.

Kij Johnson with her essay for "This //I believe". Since taking up climbing, Johnson has also tried out motocycling, sakiaking, badminton, and karaage making. As always we invite you to tell us the story of you // believe. You can find the information about submitting along with all the essays at NPR.org. For "This //I Believe", I am Jay Alison.

 

Jay Alison is co-editor with Dan Gagmen, John Gregory and Vicky Marak of the book This I Believe, the personal philosophies of remarkable men and women.

 

Support for This I Believe comes from Prudential Retirement.

One without faith is sure to fail 新浪微薄:福威武威
实现无障碍英语沟通

on cross3561

 

From NPR news, This is Weekend  Edition. I am Liane Hansen.

 

I believe in mystery,

I believe in family,

I believe in being who I am,

I believe in the power of failure,

and I believe normal life is extraordinary.

This I believe.

 

Our "This is what I Believe" essay today was sent in by Kij Johnson of Seattle Washington. She works at a software company by day, and writes science fiction novels by night. But her belief is not about her work. It's about something deeper and darker, and about the way she rolls above it. Here is our series curator, independent producer Jay Alison.

 

We are struck by how many of our contributors use their essays to talk about stories that even those close to them don't know. Kij Johnson chose to write about something she says will come as a surprise to many of her friends and coworkers. But that was more important to say it than worry about it. Here is Kij Johnson with her essay for "This I Believe".

 

I believe I am a climber. Three years ago, a series of medical and personal crisis took over what was a clinical depression, and made it something much darker. I thought of it as falling as jumping off a bridge on a rainy winter day. Three seconds in the air before I hit the water, and plunged deep into the icy cold, my heavy coat pulling me deeper, and the surface far over head, too far away. This is the question that kept me from making the image a real one. What if I change my mind? Jumping into the water, the air in my lungs would fail me before I could swim back to the living world. I would know for those last seconds, that I did want to live after all. But it would be too late.

 

I am not sure why I started climbing. I walked through the door of the local climbing gym one day on a whim. It was an alien world, strong, beautiful, men and women, towering walls under sodium vapor lights, white dust filling the air, light instead of dark, up instead of down. It was in every way the opposite of what was inside me. The second time I climbed, I got to a move where I was sure I would fall. I was 25 feet up on a rope, but I didn't know yet that I could trust it. I heard my voice say out aloud, "I have a choice here, fear or joy", what I meant was "climb or don't climb, live or die". In the more than two years since then, I have climbed hundreds of days, inside and out, sometimes tied to a rope, often not. I do pay a price here. My body can be so bruised from hitting walls that people ask me about my home situation. Nine months ago, I broke my leg and ankle. I healed fast, but the risk remains, next time I might not.

 

Climbing requires a cold-blooded decision to live, if I am inattentive or careless, I will fall. Every time I climb at the gym, or rope up for a route outside, or go * which is climbing without a rope, and often more dangerous, I am taking a risk and I am committing to staying alive. Now I believe in climbing, in not jumping. Jumping would have been easy, just step over the bridge railing and let go. Climbing is harder but worth it. I believe the deciding to live was the right decision. There's no way to describe the terrible darkness of depression in a way that non-depressed people can understand. Now I am less focused on the darkness. Instead, I think about the joy I feel in conquering it, and the tool I used. I am a climber and I am alive.

 

Kij Johnson with her essay for "This I believe". Since taking up climbing, Johnson has also tried out motocycling, sea kayaking, badminton, and karaage making. As always we invite you to tell us the story of you believe. You can find the information about submitting along with all the essays at NPR.org. For "This I Believe", I am Jay Alison.

 

Jay Alison is co-editor with Dan Gediman, John Gregory, Viki Merrick of the book This I Believe, the personal philosophies of remarkable men and women.

 

Support for This I Believe comes from Prudential Retirement.

 

(For this book, you can see http://www.amazon.com/This-Believe-Personal-Philosophies-Remarkable/dp/0805080872)


 

Who can say where the road goes
Where the day flows
Only time
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On dribble

 

From NPR news, This is Weekend edition. I am Liane Hansen.

 

I believe in mystery,

I believe in family,

I believe in being who I am,

I believe in the power of failure,

And I believe normal life is extraordinary.

This I believe.

 

Our "This I Believe" essay today was sent in by Kij Johnson of Seattle Washington. She works at a software company by day, and writes science fiction novels by night. But her belief is not about her work. It's about something deeper and darker, and about the way she rolls above it. Here is our series curator, independent producer Jay Alison.

 

We are struck by how many of our contributors use their essays to talk about stories that even those close to them don't know. Kij Johnson chose to write about something she says will come as a surprise to many of her friends and coworkers. But that it was more important to say it than worry about it. Here is Kij Johnson with her essay for "This I Believe".

 

I believe I am a climber. Three years ago, a series of medical and personal crises took over what was a clinical depression, and made it something much darker. I thought of it as falling as jumping off a bridge on a rainy winter day. Three seconds in the air before I hit the water, and plunged deep into the icy cold, my heavy coat pulling me deeper, and the surface far overhead, too far away. This is the question that kept me from making the image a real one. What if I change my mind? Jumping into the water, the air in my lungs would fail me before I could swim back to the living world. I would know for those last seconds that I did want to live after all. But it would be too late.

 

I am not sure why I started climbing. I walked through the door of the local climbing gym one day on a whim. It was an alien world, strong, beautiful, men and women, towering walls under sodium vapor lights, white dust filling the air, light instead of dark, up instead of down. It was in every way the opposite of what was inside me. The second time I climbed, I got to a move where I was sure I would fall. I was 25 feet up on a rope, but I didn't know yet that I could trust it. I heard my voice say out loud, "I have a choice here, fear or joy", what I meant was "climb or don't climb, live or die". In the more than two years since then, I have climbed hundreds of days, inside and out, sometimes tied to a rope, often not. I do pay a price here. My body can be so bruised from hitting walls that people ask me about my home situation. Nine months ago, I broke my leg and ankle. I healed fast, but the risk remains, next time I might not.

 

Climbing requires a cold-blooded decision to live, if I am inattentive or careless, I will fall. Every time I climb at the gym, or rope up for a route outside, or go bouldering which is climbing without a rope, and often more dangerous, I am taking a risk and I am committing to staying alive. Now I believe in climbing, in not jumping. Jumping would have been easy, just step over the bridge railing and let go. Climbing is harder but worth it. I believe the deciding to live was the right decision. There's no way to describe the terrible darkness of depression in a way that non-depressed people can understand. Now I am less focused on the darkness. Instead, I think about the joy I feel in conquering it, and the tool I used. I am a climber and I am alive.

 

Kij Johnson with her essay for "This I believe". Since taking up climbing, Johnson has also tried out motocycling, sea kayaking, badminton, and kludge making. As always we invite you to tell us the story of your belief. You can find the information about submitting along with all the essays at NPR.org. For "This I Believe", I am Jay Alison.

 

Jay Alison is co-editor with Dan Gediman, John Gregory, Viki Merrick of the book This I Believe, the personal philosophies of remarkable men and women.

 

Support for This I Believe comes from Prudential Retirement.

This I believe is independently produced by Jay Alsion and Dan Gediman with John Gregory and Viki Merrick. There is a “This I Believe” journal and date planner that might help you write your own statement of belief. It’s available from the NPR Shop and at npr.org/thisibelieve.

on wukeyu123

From NPR news, this is Weekend edition. I am Leanne Hansen.

 

I believe in mystery,

I believe in family,

I believe in being who I am,

I believe in the power of failure,

And I believe normal life is extraordinary.

This I believe.

 

Our "This I Believe" essay today was sent in by Kij Johnson of Seattle Washington. She works at a software company by day, and writes science fiction novels by night. But her belief is not about her work. It's about something deeper and darker, and about the way she rolls above it. Here is our series curator, independent producer Jay Alison.

 

We are struck by how many of our contributors use their essays to talk about stories that even those close to them don't know. Kij Johnson chose to write about something she says will come as a surprise to many of her friends and coworkers. But that it was more important to say it than worry about it. Here is Kij Johnson with her essay for "This I Believe".

 

I believe I am a climber. Three years ago, a series of medical and personal crises took / what was a clinical depression, and made it something much darker. I thought of it as falling as jumping off a bridge on a rainy winter day. Three seconds in the air before I hit the water, and plunged deep into the icy cold, my heavy coat pulling me deeper, and the surface far overhead, too far away. This is the question that kept me from making the image a real one. What if I changed my mind? Jumping into the water, the air in my lungs would fail me before I could swim back to the living world. I would know for those last seconds that I did want to live after all. But it would be too late.

 

I am not sure why I started climbing. I walked through the door of the local climbing gym one day on a whim. It was an alien world, strong, beautiful, men and women, towering walls under sodium vapor lights, white dust filling the air, light instead of dark, up instead of down. It was in every way the opposite of what was inside me. The second time I climbed, I got to a move where I was sure I would fall. I was 25 feet up on a rope, but I didn't know yet that I could trust it. I heard my voice say out loud, "I have a choice here, fear or joy", what I meant was "climb or don't climb, live or die". In the more than two years since then, I have climbed hundreds of days, inside and out, sometimes tied to a rope, often not. I do pay a price here. My body can be so bruised from hitting walls that people asked me about my home situation. Nine months ago, I broke my leg and ankle. I healed fast, but the risk remains, next time I might not.

 

Climbing requires a cold-blooded decision to live, if I am inattentive or careless, I will fall. Every time I climb at the gym, or rope up for a route outside, or go bouldering which is climbing without a rope, and often more dangerous, I am taking a risk and I am committing to staying alive. Now I believe in climbing, in not jumping. Jumping would have been easy, just step over the bridge railing and let go. Climbing is harder but worth it. I believe the deciding to live was the right decision. There's no way to describe the terrible darkness of depression in a way that non-depressed people can understand. Now I am less focused on the darkness. Instead, I think about the joy I feel in conquering it, and the tool I used. I am a climber and I am alive.

 

Kij Johnson with her essay for "This I believe". Since taking up climbing, Johnson has also tried out motorcycling, sea kayaking, badminton, and kludge making. As always we invite you to tell us the story of your belief. You can find / information about submitting along with all the essays at NPR.org. For "This I Believe", I am Jay Alison.

 

Jay Alison is co-editor with Dan Gadman, John Gregory and Vicky Merrick of the book This I Believe, the personal philosophies of remarkable men and women.

 

Support for This I Believe comes from Prudential Retirement.

This I believe is independently produced by Jay Alison and Dan Gadman with John Gregory and Vicky Merrick. There is a “This I Believe” journal and date planner that might help you write your own statement of belief. It’s available from the NPR Shop and at npr.org/thisibelieve.

 

 

home work

 

Our "This I Believe" essay today was sent in by Kij Johnson of Seattle Washington. She works at a software company by day, and writes science fiction novels by night. But her belief is not about her work. It's about something deeper and darker and about the way she rolls above it.

 

This is our series curator, independent producer Jay Alison.

 

We are struck by how many of our contributors use their essays to talk about stories that even those close to them don't know. Kij Johnson chose to write about something she says will come as a surprise to many of our friends and coworkers. But it is more important to say it than worry about it.

 

Here is Kij Johnson with her essay for "This I Believe".

 

I believe I am a climber. Three years ago, a serious medical and personal crisis took up what a clinical depression and made it something much darker. I thought it as falling and jumping off a bridge on a rainy winter day. Three seconds in the air before I hit the water and plunged deep into the icy cold, my heavy coat pulling me deeper, and the surface far overhead, too far away.

 

This is the question that cut me from make the image a real one. What if I change my mind? Jumping into the water, the air in my lungs would fail me before I could swim back to the living world. I would know for those last seconds that I did want to live after all, but it would be too late.

 

I am not sure why I started climbing. I walked through the door of the local climbing gym one day on a ----. It was an alien world. Strong, beautiful, men and women, towering walls under sodium vapor lights, white dust filling the air, light instead of dark, up instead of down. It was in every way the opposite of what was inside me.

 

The second time I climbed, I got to a move where I was sure I would fall. I was 25 feet up on a rope, but I didn't know yet that I can trust it. I heard my voice say out aloud, "I have a choice here, fear or joy", what I meant was: climb or don't climb, live or die. In the more than two years since then, I have climbed hundreds of days, inside and out, sometimes tied to a rope, often not.

 

I do pay a price here. My body can be so bruised from hitting walls that people asked me about my home situation. Nine months ago I broke my leg and ankle. I healed fast, but the risk remains. Next time I might not.

 

Climbing requires a cold-blooded decision to live, if I am inattentive or careless, I will fall. Every time I climb at the gym, or rope up for a rod outside, or go bolding which is climbing without a rope and often more dangerous, I am taking a risk and I am committing to staying alive.

 

Now I believe in climbing, in not jumping. Jumping would've been easy, just step over the bridge railing and let go. Climbing is harder but worth it. I believe the deciding to live was a right decision. There's no way to describe the terrible darkness of depression in a way that non-depressed people can understand. Now I am less focused on the darkness. Instead, I think about the joy I feel in conquering it and the tool I used. I am a climber and I am alive.

 

Kij Johnson with her essay for "This I believe". Since taking up climbing, Johnson has also tried out motorcycling, sea ----, badminton, and --- making. As always we invite you to tell us the story of your belief. You can find information about submitting along with all the essays at NPR.org. For "This I Believe", I am Jay Alison.

 

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I believe in mystery, I believe in family, I believe in being who I am, I believe in the power of failure, and I believe normal life is *. This I believe.Our "This is what I Believe" essay today was sent in by Kij Johnson of Seattle Washington. She works at a software company by day, and writes science fiction novels by night. But her belief is not about her work. It's about something deeper and darker, and about the way she rolls above it. Here is our series creator independent producer Jay Alison. We are struck by how many of our * use their essays to talk about stories that even those close to them don't know. Kij Johnson chose to write about something she says will come as a surprise to many of her friends and *. But it was more important to say it than worry about it. Here is Kij Johnson with her essay for "This I Believe". I believe I am a climber. Three years ago, a series of medical and personal crisis took over what was a * depression, and made it something much darker. I thought it was falling as jumping off a bridge on a rainy winter day. Three seconds in the air before I hit the water, and long deep into the icy cold, my heavy coat pulling me deeper, and the surface far over head, too far away. This is the question that kept me from making the image a real one. What if I change my mind, jumping into the water, the air in my longs would fail me before I can swim back to the living world. I would know for those last seconds, that I did want to live after all. But it would be too late. I am not sure why I started climbing. I walked through the door of a local climbing * one day on a win. It was an alien world, strong, beautiful, men and women, towering walls under the city and vapor lights, white dusts filling the air, light instead of dark, up instead of down. It was in every way the opposite of what was inside me. The second time I climbed, I got to a move where I was sure I would fall. I was 25 feet up on a *, but I didn't know yet that I can trust it. I heard my voice say out aloud, "I have a choice here, fear or joy", what I meant was "climb or don't climb, live or die". In the more than two years since then, I have climbed hundreds of days, inside and out, sometimes tired to a *, often not. I do pay a price here. My body can be so beared from hitting walls that people ask me about my home situation. Nine months ago, I broke my leg and ankle. I healed fast, but the risk remains, next time I might not. Climbing requires a cold-blooded decision to live, if I am * or careless, I will fall. Every time I climb at the *, or * up for a route outside, or go boardering which is climbing without ropes, then often more dangerous, I am taking a risk and I am committing to staying alive. Now I believe in climbing, in not jumping. Jumping would have been easy, just step over the bridge barring and let go. Climbing is harder but worth it. I believe the deciding to live was the right decision. There's no way to describe the terrible darkness of depression in a way that non-depressed people can understand. Now I am less focused on the darkness. Instead, I think about the joy I feel and * it, and the tool I used. I am a climber and I am alive. Kij Johnson with her essay for "This I believe". Since taking up climbing, Johnson has also tried out *, *, *, and *making. As always we invite you to tell us the story of you believe. You can find the information about submitting along with all the essays at*. For "This I Believe", I am Jay Alison. Jay Alison is co-editor with Dan Gagmen, John Gregory and Vicky Marak of the book This I Believe, the personal* of remarkable men and women. Support for This I Believe comes from *Retirement.
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From NPR news, this is weekend  edition , I'm Liane Hansen.
I believe in mystery 
I believe in  family
I believe  in being who I am
I believe  in power of failure 
and I believe in normal life is extraordinary
This I belive .

Our this I believe essay today was sent in by  Kij Johnson of  Seattle.Washington  .
She works at a software company by day and writes science fiction novels by night , but her belief is not about her work it is about something deeper and darker and about the way she rolls above it .Here's our series  creator independent producer Jay  Alison .

We're strucked by how many of our contributors use their essays to talk about the stories that even those close to them don't know .
Kij Johnson chose to write about something she says will come as a surprise to many of her friends and coworkers .
But that it was more important to say it than worry about it .
Here's Kij  Johnson with her essay for this i believe .

I believe I'm a climber .

Three years ago , a series of medical and personal crises took over what was a clinical depression and made it something much darker .
I thought of   it as   falling as jumping off a bridge on a rainy winter day .

Three seconds in the air before I hit the water and plunged deep into  the icy  cold .
My heavy coat pulling me deeper and the surface far overhead, too far away .
This is the question that kept me for making the image a real one. 
What if I change my mind , jumping into the water , the air in my lungs will fill me before i could  swim back to the living world .
I would know for those last seconds that I did want to live after all but it would be too late.

I am not sure why  I started  climbing , I walked through the door of the local climbing gym one day on a whim  ,it was an alient world ,strong beautiful men and women towering walls  under  sodium vapor lights ,white dust   fill in    the air .
Light instead of  dark ;up instead of  down ;it was in  every way the opposite of  what was inside me.

The second time I climed I got to a move where I was sure I would fall ,I was 25 feet up on a rope but i didn't know  yet that i could  trust it.

I heard my voice say out loud , I have a choice here fear or joy , what i meant was climb or don't climb , live or die .
In the more than two years  since then I have climbed hundreds of days , inside and  out ,sometimes tied to rope often not .
I do pay a price here , my body can be so bruised  from  hitting walls that  people asked me about my home situation .
Nine months ago ,I  broke my leg and ankle , I healed fast but   the risk remains .Nextime , I might not .

Climbing requires a cold - blooded  decision to live if I'm inattentive or careless I will fall .
Every time  I climb at the gym or rope out for a route outside or go bouldering  which is climbing without a rope and  often more dangerous .I'm taking a risk and I 'm committing to staying  alive .

Now I belive in climbing ,in  not jumping ,jumping would have been easy  , just step over the bridge railing and let go .
Climbing is harder but worth it.
I believe that deciding to live was the right  decision ,there's no way to describe the terrible darkness of  depression in a way that non- depressed people can understand .Now I 'm less focused on the darkness instead I think ahout the joy i feel in conquering it and the tool i used .

I'm a climber and I'm alive.

Kish Johnson with her essay for this i believe .since taking up climbing ,Jonson has also tried out motor cycling ,  sea kayaking  ;badminton and kludge making .
As  always we invite you to tell us the story of  your belief , you can find the information about the submitting along with all these essays  at NPR.org.
For this i belive ,I'm Jay Alison .

Jay Alison is co-editor with Dan Gediman , John Gregory and  Vicki Merrickle of the book "this i believe" the personal philosophies  of remarkable men and women .

Support for this i believe comes from prudential retirement .
 
This i believe is independently  produced by Jay Alison ,and dan gediman with jonh gregory  and vicki merrick .
There's a this i belive journal and date planner that might help  you write your own statement of belief .
It's available from the NPR shop and at  NPR.ORG/THIS I BELIEVE .

 

好栏目推荐之美国口语俚语

homework

I believe in mystery.
I believe in family.
I believe in being who I am.
I believe in power of failure.
I believe normal life is extraordinary.
This I believe.
   Our"This I believe"essay today was sent by Kij Johnson of Seattle Washington.She works in a software company by day and writes science fiction novels by night.But her belief is not about her work.It's about something deeper and darker and about the way she rolls above it.Here is our series creator independent producer Jay Alison.
   We are stuck by how many contributors use their essays to talk about stories even those close to them don't know.Kij Johnson chose to write about something she said will come as a surprise to many of her friends and co-workers.But that is more important to say it than worry about it.Here is Kij Johnson with her essay for "this I believe".
   I believe I'm a climber.3 years ago, a serious medical and personal crisis took was a * depression and made something much darker.I thought it is falling as jumping off the bridge on a rainy winter day.3 seconds in the air before I hit the water and punched deep into  the icy cold,my heavy coat pulling me deeper,and the surface far over head,too far away.This is the question that kept me from making the
image real one.What if I change my mind,jumping into the water,the air in my * would fail me before I can  swim back to the living world.I would know for those last seconds that I did want to live after all,but it would be too late.I'm not sure why I started climbing.I walked through the door,the local climbing gym,one day on the *.It was a alien world,strong,beautiful men and women,towering walls *,weap * the air, light instead of dark, up instead of down.It was in every way the opposite of what was inside me.The second
time I climbed I got to a move when I was sure I would fall.I was 25 feet up on the rope but I did't know that I can trust it.I heard my voice said out loud:"I have a choice here,fear or joy."what I meant was climb or don't climb,live or die.In the more than 2 years since then,I have climbed hundreds of days,inside and out,sometimes tied to a rope often not.I do pay a price here my body can be so bruse from hitting walls that people ask me about my home situation.9 months ago,I broke my leg and ankle.I healed fast but the risk remained.Next time I might not.Climbing requires cold blooded decition to live.If I'm * or careless I would fall.Every time I climb in the gym or * a rope outside,* which is climbing without a rope and often more dangerous.I am taking a risk and
I am committing to stay in a life.Now I believe in climbing in not jumping.Jumping would be easy just step over the bridge * and let it go.Climbing is harder but worth it.I Believe that deciding to live was the right decition.There is no way to describe the terrible darkness of the depression in the way none depresses people can understand.Now I'm less focus on the darkness instead I think about the joy I feel in conquering it and the tools I used.I'm a climber and I'm a life.
  KIj Johnson with her essay for :this I believe.Since taking up climbing,Johnson has also tried out motorcycling,*,bedminton and * making.As always we invite you to tell us the story of your belife. [ 本帖最后由 小虾米吃大螃蟹 于 2008-9-13 12:05 编辑 ]

HOMEWORK

 

from NPR news, this is weekend edition, I’m ---

I believe in mystery,

I believe in family,

I believe in being who I am,

I believe in the powerful power of failture.

I believe in normal life, this is extraordinary

this I believe

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she is a serious curator (series creator), independent producer, Jay Alison.

 

we are strike struck by how many our contributors use their essays to talk about stories that even those close to them. they don’t know. KJ chose to write  about sth she says will come up to as a surprise to many of her friends and co-workers, but it’s more important to say it than worry about it. here’s JK, as with well her thesis essay for this I believe.

 

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I am not sure why I stopped started climbing. I walked to through the door of local climbing jem gym one day on the a whim. it was an air line alien worlds. beautiful, strong, men and woman. towering walls and ---- swiper  sodium vapor lights, weight dusts failing white dusts filling the air. light instead of dark, up instead of down, it’s was in every way the opposite of what inside me.

 

the second time I climbed, I got to a move when where I was sure I will fall. I was 25 feet up on a rope but I didn’t know yet that I can trust that, I heard my voice say out lout aloud. I have to --- there a choice here, fair fear or joi joy. what I meant was climb or don’t climb, live or die.

 

in the more than 2 years since that then I have climbed hundreds of this days. inside and out, sometimes tied to a rope, often not. a --- apre--- I do pay a price here. my body can be so firm bruised from hitting walls that people ask me about my home situation. nine months ago, I broke my legs and ankle, I hilled healed fast but the risker risks means remains. next time I might not.

 

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now, I believe in climbing, in not jumping, jumping which ---- would have been easy, just start step over the brench bridge railing in like g--- and let go.  climbing was harder but worth that, I believe the deciding to live was the right decision, there’s no way to describe the terrible darkness in--- of depression in the way that non depression depressed people can understand.

 

now, I’m less focused on the darkness, instead, I think about the enjoy joy I feel in counting conquering that, and the tool I used, I am a climber and I am a life alive.

 

KJ with her ethsis essay for this I believe. since taking up climbing J has also tried out motor sycling motorcycling, say kai eye king sea kayaking, bad mening badminton and clarge kludge making. as we always we invite you to tell us the story of your believe, you can find information about submitting a long with all these essays ethesis and NPR – work at NPR.org. for this is I believe, I am J A.

 

JA is the co-editor with JG---- of the book. this I believe, the personal philosophies over remarkable men and women.

 

support for this I believe comes form potential retirement

 

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From NPR news, this is Weekend edition. I am Leanne Hansen.

 

I believe in mystery,

I believe in family,

I believe in being who I am,

I believe in the power of failure,

And I believe normal life is extraordinary.

This I believe.

 

Our "This I Believe" essay today was sent in by Kij Johnson of Seattle Washington. She works at a software company by day, and writes science fiction novels by night. But her belief is not about her work. It's about something deeper and darker, and about the way she rolls above it. Here is our series curator, independent producer Jay Alison.

 

We are struck by how many of our contributors use their essays to talk about stories that even those close to them don't know. Kij Johnson chose to write about something she says will come as a surprise to many of her friends and coworkers. But that it was more important to say it than worry about it. Here is Kij Johnson with her essay for "This I Believe".

 

I believe I am a climber. Three years ago, a series of medical and personal crises took / what was a clinical depression, and made it something much darker. I thought of it as falling as jumping off a bridge on a rainy winter day. Three seconds in the air before I hit the water, and plunged deep into the icy cold, my heavy coat pulling me deeper, and the surface far overhead, too far away. This is the question that kept me from making the image a real one. What if I changed my mind? Jumping into the water, the air in my lungs would fail me before I could swim back to the living world. I would know for those last seconds that I did want to live after all. But it would be too late.

 

I am not sure why I started climbing. I walked through the door of the local climbing gym one day on a whim. It was an alien world, strong, beautiful, men and women, towering walls under sodium and vapor lights, white dust filling the air, light instead of dark, up instead of down. It was in every way the opposite of what was inside me. The second time I climbed, I got to a move where I was sure I would fall. I was 25 feet up on a rope, but I didn't know yet that I could trust it. I heard my voice say out loud, "I have a choice here, fear or joy", what I meant was "climb or don't climb, live or die". In the more than two years since then, I have climbed hundreds of days, inside and out, sometimes tied to a rope, often not. I do pay a price here. My body can be so bruised from hitting walls that people asked me about my home situation. Nine months ago, I broke my leg and ankle. I healed fast, but the risk remains, next time I might not.

 

Climbing requires a cold-blooded decision to live, if I am inattentive or careless, I will fall. Every time I climb at the gym, or rope up for a route outside, or go bouldering which is climbing without a rope, and often more dangerous, I am taking a risk and I am committing to staying alive. Now I believe in climbing, in not jumping. Jumping would have been easy, just step over the bridge railing and let go. Climbing is harder but worth it. I believe that deciding to live was the right decision. There's no way to describe the terrible darkness of depression in a way that non-depressed people can understand. Now I am less focused on the darkness. Instead, I think about the joy I feel in conquering it, and the tool I used. I am a climber and I am alive.

 

Kij Johnson with her essay for "This I believe". Since taking up climbing, Johnson has also tried out motorcycling, sea kayaking, badminton, and kludge making. As always we invite you to tell us the story of your belief. You can find / information about submitting along with all the essays at NPR.org. For "This I Believe", I am Jay Alison.

 

Jay Alison is co-editor with Dan Gateman, John Gregory and Vicky Merrick of the book This I Believe, the personal philosophies of remarkable men and women.

 

Support for This I Believe comes from Prudential Retirement.

This I believe is independently produced by Jay Alison and Dan Gateman with John Gregory and Vicky Merrick. There is a “This I Believe” journal and date planner that might help you write your own statement of belief. It’s available from the NPR Shop and at npr.org/thisibelieve.

 

 

In the mountains of truth ,you can never climb in vain.
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