70 would be unable to read
50 would suffer from malnutrition
1 would be near death; 1 would be near birth
1(yes, only) would have a college education
1 would own a computer
When one considers our world from such a compressed perspective, the need for acceptance, understanding and education becomes glaringly apparent.
The following is also something to ponder…
If you woke pup this morning with more health than illness…you aremore blessed than the million who will not survive this week.
If you have never experienced the danger of battle, the loneliness ofimprisonment, the agony of torture, or the pangs of starvation…you are ahead of 500 million people in the world.
If you have food in the refrigerator, clothes on your back, a roofoverhead and a place to sleep… you are richer than 75% of this world.
If you have money in the bank, in your wallet, and spare change in dishsomeplace…you are among the top 8% of the world’s wealth.
If your parents are still alive and still married…you are very rare,even in the United Stated and Canada.
Someone once said: What goes around comes around.
So…
Live like it’s Heaven on Earth.
致朋友们以及我所爱的人们
这是一份爱的礼物
也是一席金玉良言
如果我们把全世界的人口按照现有压缩为一个100人的村子，情况就会如同以下：
这个村子里有：
57人是亚洲人
21人是欧洲人
14人来自西半球的南、北美洲
8人是非洲人
52人是女性
48人是男性
70人是有色人种
30人是白人
70人是非基督教徒
30人是基督徒
89人是异性恋者
11人是同性恋者
6人拥有全世界59％的财富，而且这6人全是美国人
80人的居住环境不达标准
70人是文盲
50人苦于营养不良
1人濒临死亡边缘；1人正要出生
1人（是的，只有1人)会接受大学教育
1人拥有电脑
透过这个压缩图来放眼我们的世界，就会明晓接纳他人、谅解以及教育是何等重要。
再从以下角度来想想看……
如果你早上醒来的时候健康无恙……那么，比起活不过这一周的百万人来说，你真是幸运多了。
如果你未曾经历过战争的危险、入狱的孤独、严刑的苦楚、饥饿的痛苦……那么，比起世界上5亿人来，你真是幸运多了。
如果你冰箱里有食物，身上有衣服可穿，有屋篷遮蔽，有地方睡觉……那么，比起世界上75%的人来，你真是富足多了。
如果你银行中有存款，钱包中也有钱，还能到某处消费习菜……你便跻身在世界上最富有的8%人口当中了。
如果你的父母依然健在，而且还在一起生活的话……这可是非常难得的事，即使是在美国与加拿大。
有人说过：我所付出的终将会回归。
所以……
好好地生活，犹如这里是人间乐土。
Rush匆匆
Swallows may have gone, but there is a time of return; willow trees may have died back, but there is a time of regreening; peach blossoms may have fallen, but they will bloom again. Now, you the wise, tell me, why should our days leave us, never to return? —If they had been stolen by someone, who could it be? Where could he hide them? If they had made the escape themselves, then where could they stay at the moment?
I don't know how many days I have been given to spend, but I do feel my hands are getting empty. Taking stock silently, I find that more than eight thousand days have already slid away from me. Like a drop of water from the point of a needle disappearing into the ocean, my days are dripping into the stream of time, soundless, traceless. Already sweat is starting on my forehead, and tears welling up in my eyes.
Those that have gone have gone for good, those to come keep coming; yet in between, howft is the shift, in such a rush? When I get up in the morning, the slanting sun marks its presence in my small room in two or three oblongs. The sun has feet, look, he is treading on, lightly and furtively; and I am caught, blankly, in his revolution. Thus—the day flows away through the sink when I wash my hands, wears off in the bowl when I eat my meal, and passes away before my day-dreaming gaze as reflect in silence. I can feel his haste now, so I reach out my hands to hold him back, but he keeps flowing past my withholding hands. In the evening, as I lie in bed, he strides over my body, glides past my feet, in his agile way. The moment I open my eyes and meet the sun again, one whole day has gone. I bury my face in my hands and heave a sigh. But the new day begins to flash past in the sigh.
What can I do, in this bustling world, with my days flying in their escape? Nothing but to hesitate, to rush. What have I been doing in that eight-thousand-day rush, apart from hesitating? Those bygone days have been dispersed as smoke by a light wind, or evaporated as mist by the morning sun. What traces have I left behind me? Have I ever left behind any gossamer traces at all? I have come to the world, stark naked; am I to go back, in a blink, in the same stark nakedness? It is not fair though: why should I have made such a trip for nothing！
You the wise, tell me, why should our days leave us, never to return?
燕子去了，有再来的时候；杨柳枯了，有再青的时候；桃花谢了，有再开的时候。但是，聪明的，你告诉我，我们的日子为什么一去不复返呢？——是有人偷了他们罢：那是谁？又藏在何处呢？是他们自己逃走了：现在又到了哪里呢？
我不知道他们给了我多少日子；但我的手确乎是渐渐空虚了。在默默里算着，八千多日子已经从我手中溜去；像针尖上一滴水滴在大海里，我的日子滴在时间的流里，没有声音也没有影子。我不禁头涔涔而泪潸潸了。
去的尽管去了，来的尽管来着，去来的中间，又怎样的匆匆呢？早上我起来的时候，小屋里射进两三方斜斜的太阳。太阳他有脚啊，轻轻悄悄地挪移了；我也茫茫然跟着旋转。于是——洗手的时候，日子从水盆里过去；吃饭的时候，日子从饭碗里过去；默默时，便从凝然的双眼前过去。我觉察他去的匆匆了，伸出手遮挽时，他又从遮挽着的手边过去，天黑时，我躺在床上，他便伶伶俐俐地从我身边垮过，从我脚边飞去了。等我睁开眼和太阳再见，这算又溜走了一日。我掩着面叹息。但是新来的日子的影儿又开始在叹息里闪过了。
在逃去如飞的日子里，在千门万户的世界里的我能做些什么呢？只有徘徊罢了，只有匆匆罢了；在八千多日的匆匆里，除徘徊外，又剩些什么呢？过去的日子如轻烟却被微风吹散了，如薄雾，被初阳蒸融了；我留着些什么痕迹呢？我何曾留着像游丝样的痕迹呢？我赤裸裸来到这世界，转眼间也将赤裸裸地回去罢？但不能平的，为什么偏要白白走这一遭啊？
你聪明的，告诉我，我们的日子为什么一去不复返呢？
