在生活中，我們常會有這樣的經驗：走向某個服務台詢問事情，離開時卻帶著截然不同的感受。有些人只用幾句話，便讓人感到溫暖與舒適；另一些人則讓詢問者覺得彷彿踩到了地雷，氣氛瞬間僵硬。

有時我會納悶：明明可以好好說、客氣的說，為什麼非得用那麼不耐煩的態度？

我曾認識一位能力極強的客服，她完全有能力快速滿足客戶的需求，但她的第一反應卻總是先來一點刁難。長期觀察後，我明白她的心思，她想讓客戶知道這件事「不好處理」，但「她願意處理」。

這種人格並不陌生，在你我周遭隨處可見。當他們接到陌生來電時，多半也是類似的反應：一句冷冷的「你哪裡？」讓對方心先涼半截，再一句「我不需要」便將電話掛掉。

我們都有類似的生活經驗。當你回到家，伴侶問你：「怎麼了？又是誰讓你不開心了？」你其實很清楚，是誰讓你鬱悶、糾心、掃了興致。

許多人就在這樣的日常中，一點一滴掉入負面情緒的深淵，有人甚至因此失去健康。

我的體會是：那些讓別人不舒服的人，最後往往也會被自己的性格拖垮，甚至病倒。

 

哲學家彼得・辛格（Peter Singer）提出「有效的利他主義」，他曾問過：「當你有能力幫助一個人而你卻不做，這算不算一種錯誤？」

當你一次次在生活中看到有人「明明舉手之勞卻選擇拒絕」，你真的會懷疑：人性本善，是不是一場誤會？你甚至會嘗試解釋為「被害恐懼症候群」，一種來自反覆受傷後的自我保護。

這是一種環境效應、也是人群效應。當你身邊充斥著勢利與自利，你也會逐漸忘記如何關注他人，甚至不再習慣主動給予。

《人慈（Humankind）》一書中有一段引文：「這種想法被演化所證實，被日常生活所確認，以至於根深蒂固到我們不再察覺。」作者布雷格曼（Rutger Bregman）想說的是：大部分的人，內心深處其實是善良的。

而我想補充的是：許多讓人反感的行為，並非來自本質的「壞」，而是環境長期強化了他們的自我保護。他們不是喜歡刁難，而是活在「必須先保護自己」的恐懼裡。

 

我們可以從一個人的言行中讀到他的背景：有的是家庭教育的影子，有的是成長環境的投射。

為什麼有人目中無人？

為什麼有人滔滔不絕到無視他人存在？

為什麼一些看似正常的人，言行卻像生了病？

因為他們確實不像一般正常人的舉止，因此旁人會懷疑，他是不是哪裡「病了」？

這篇文章的論點，我放在兩個方向：

第一，面對那些挑起你情緒的人，你要練習忽視，不必放在心上，更沒有必要與之爭執。饒過他，是一條路。

第二，饒過自己，是另一條路。即使對方不會放過你，你也要替自己找到出口。

長期被忽略的生病真相就在這裡：那些表面上不放過別人的人，往往更不放過自己。

人常常不知道自己是怎麼倒下去的，但天知道，因為生命的法則本就由造物主制定。

 

《人慈》中記載了一則寓言，我摘錄下來，分享給有緣讀到的人：

『一位老人告訴孫子：「我的心中有一場爭鬥，是兩匹狼的惡鬥。一匹是惡狼──憤怒、貪婪、嫉妒、傲慢與怯懦。另一匹是善狼──平和、慈愛、謙遜、慷慨、誠實且值得信賴。這兩匹狼也在你心中爭鬥，也在每個人心中爭鬥。」

男孩問：「哪一匹狼會贏？」

老人微笑道：「你餵養的那一匹。」』

回溯我的生命，因為收到召喚而投入斷食教育，這一路上擊打與挫折從不曾缺席。但支撐我走下去的力量，不屬於個人的意志，而是每個人都與生俱來的本性。

只是，人們太容易餵錯對象，把食物餵給了那匹惡狼。

在與人的互動中，我沒有能力提醒所有人收起壞脾氣與壞習慣，更不可能告訴他們這些行為會帶來什麼後果。

事實上，許多人就是堅持把自己推向深淵。

在我生命的前半段，我以「得饒人處且饒人」提醒自己，看清疾病的真相後，我更想說的是：「饒過自己吧！」。

雖然很多人聽不見、也聽不進去，但這兩匹狼一生都住在我們身上。

願我們共勉，把那匹會剝奪你幸福的狼，放生吧。

 

（你不能把我丟進狼群，他們會在我呼喚時前來。）

 

The Two Wolves

In everyday life, we often have similar experiences: we walk up to a service counter to ask a question and leave with completely different feelings. Some people need only a few sentences to make us feel warm and at ease; others make us feel as if we’ve stepped on a landmine, stiffening the atmosphere in an instant.

Sometimes I wonder: when we can simply speak kindly, politely—why choose impatience?

I once knew a customer-service agent with exceptional ability. She could easily satisfy a customer’s needs within seconds, yet her first reaction was always to make things a little difficult. After observing her for a long time, I understood her intention: she wanted customers to know that something was “hard to handle,” but that she was willing to handle it anyway.

This type of personality is not uncommon; they exist all around us. When these people receive calls from strangers, their responses are almost always the same: a cold “Where are you calling from?” that chills the caller’s heart, followed by “I don’t need that,” and the phone goes dead.

We all have moments like this. When you arrive home and your partner asks, “What’s wrong? Who upset you this time?”—you already know who drained your energy, tangled your emotions, and ruined your mood.

Many people gradually sink into a pit of negative emotions through such small daily frictions, and some even lose their health because of it.

In my experience, those who make others uncomfortable are often consumed by their own personalities in the end—and sometimes their health collapses along with them.

Philosopher Peter Singer once posed a question through his idea of “effective altruism”: When you have the ability to help someone but choose not to, is that not a kind of wrongdoing?

When you witness, again and again, someone refusing to help even when it costs almost nothing, you start to question whether “human nature is good” might be a misunderstanding. Sometimes you may even try to explain it as a kind of “victim’s phobia”—a self-protective response born from repeated hurt.

This is an environmental effect, a social effect. When you are surrounded by self-interest and opportunism long enough, you gradually forget how to care for others—and eventually lose the habit of giving.

In Humankind, there is a line that reads: “This idea has been confirmed by evolution and reinforced by daily life, until it becomes so deeply rooted that we no longer notice it.”
Rutger Bregman’s point is that deep down, most people are inherently good.

What I want to add is this: many off-putting behaviors do not come from some “innate badness,” but from environments that have long strengthened people’s instinct to protect themselves. They do not enjoy being difficult; they simply live in the fear of “having to defend themselves first.”

We can read a person’s background through their behavior—some reflect family upbringing, some mirror the environment they grew up in.

Why are some people arrogant?
Why do some talk endlessly, ignoring everyone else?
Why do some seemingly ordinary people behave as if they are unwell?

Because their behavior truly deviates from the norm, observers can’t help but wonder whether something inside them is “ill.”

My reflections fall into two directions:

First, when someone provokes your emotions, practice ignoring it. Do not take it personally, and certainly don’t waste energy arguing. Letting them go is one path.

Second, letting yourself go is another path. Even if others refuse to release you, you must find your own exit.

Here lies a long-ignored truth about illness: those who refuse to let others go are often even harsher on themselves.

People rarely know what ultimately knocks them down—but Heaven knows, for the laws of life are set not by us.

There is an old parable recorded in Humankind:

“An old man told his grandson: ‘There is a battle inside me between two wolves. One is evil—anger, greed, jealousy, arrogance, and cowardice. The other is good—peace, love, humility, generosity, honesty, and trustworthiness. These two wolves fight within you as well, and within everyone.’
The boy asked, ‘Which wolf will win?’
The old man smiled, ‘The one you feed.’”

Looking back on my life, being called into fasting education brought me countless blows and setbacks. Yet the strength that kept me going did not come from personal willpower, but from something innate in all of us.

It’s just that people so often feed the wrong wolf.

When interacting with others, I cannot remind everyone to restrain their temper or correct their habits, nor can I warn them of the consequences these behaviors will bring.

The truth is, many people insist on pushing themselves toward the abyss.

In the first half of my life, I reminded myself, “Where grace is possible, choose grace.”
After understanding the deeper truths of illness, what I now want to say is:

“Let yourself go.”

Though many cannot hear it—or refuse to hear it—the two wolves live within us for life.

May we remind one another:
Release the wolf that steals your happiness. Let it go free.