不要怕，往前走！

by Mylène Dressler

The man is doing something on his lawn that I dont understand.

As I pass， hes cleaning a long canvas strap with a dull blade， as if hes sharpening it. The strap is suspended， stretched between two trees. He nods at me， smiles from under his cowboy hat. I used to live in this neighborhood in Dallas， on this very street. But I dont remember him. His beard is white， long， pointed. The red in his cheeks matches the red in his tie-dyed T-shirt. I nod and smile back， but then continue down the street， marveling at the new houses.

When I return to the corner， the man is standing on the strap suspended between the trees. Hes walking， bouncing. In the time it took me to wander the length of the block， hes pulled two thick 1）crash pads onto the grass， shed his 2）moccasins， and hopped up. As he bounces off I ask him how long hes been tightrope-walking.

“Not a tightrope.” He shakes a finger.“A slackline， girl. Since October. I cant do much yet. Want to try？”

“I have the wrong shoes on.”

“Naw， girl. People do this in anything.”

Im scared of things that are unstable， narrow. All my life， Ive tried to avoid them. But Im in my 40s. Time itself is narrowing in front of me. I find myself suddenly kicking off my 3）clogs， standing in my socks. The stranger takes the dull 4）spatula and cleans the dirt from the line. I ask his name.

“Merlin.”

He explains that I should get my right foot up first. I do. The strap， only an inch or so wide， starts shaking wildly.

“Just your nerves， girl. 5）Pay no heed. Hop the other foot up. Ill hold you. Keep your eyes straight ahead， dont look down. When you think youre going to fall， just bend your knees.”

I hold fast to his shoulders. Hes steady and warm， so comforting that when Ive finally got two feet on the line， I cant bring myself to let go. The strap is still vibrating， and I dont see how Ill … then I remember. Look straight ahead. If you think youre going to fall， bend your knees.

I feel it. That strange moment when you forget yourself， forget that theres anything at all unlikely about meeting a man in a cowboy hat and suspending yourself above his grass. Its only for a few seconds. But I let go.

I grab Merlin， laughing， and hop off：

“You are a magician.”

“A poet too. Want to hear？

“Of falling，” I say.

“But I told you what to do.”

Bend your knees. Its not a tightrope. Its a slackline.

I have never forgotten： Embrace the strange shaking. It is not the rope. It is you.

有个男人在他家的草坪上做着什么，我不大懂。

我路过的时候，他正在用一把钝刀清理着一条长长的帆布带子，像是在磨刀似的。带子悬空挂着，系在两棵树之间。他向我点点头，从牛仔帽底下露出一张笑脸。我以前就一直住在达拉斯这附近，正好就在这条街上，但我不记得有他这么一个人。他的胡子又白又长，呈山羊须状。发红的脸色和他身上的扎染红T恤很搭。我也冲他点点头，笑了笑，然后继续沿着街道走，惊讶于这里多了这么些新房子。

当我折回到这街角时，那个男人正站在悬挂在两棵树之间的带子上。他在上面走走跳跳。在我刚才沿着长长的街区闲逛的时候，他已经在草坪上铺了两块厚厚的缓冲垫，脱掉了软皮鞋，跳到了带子上。等他跳下来后，我问他玩绷索有多长时间了。

他晃着一根手指说道：“不是绷索，是软绳啊，姑娘。从十月份开始的。我玩得还不怎么好。你要不要试试？”

“我穿的鞋子不适合。”

“没事儿的，姑娘。别人穿啥都这么玩。”

我一直都惧怕不稳当而且狭窄的东西。我一辈子都在躲着这些东西。但现在我已经四十多岁了，时间本身在我面前已经不那么宽裕了。我一下子甩掉木底鞋，穿着袜子站在那儿。这个陌生人拿钝刀清理掉带子上的泥土。我问他叫什么名字。

“梅林。”

他给我解释说，我应该先上右脚。我照做了。带子只有一英寸（约2.54厘米）左右宽，我一踩上去，绳带立刻剧烈晃动起来。

“那只是因为你紧张，姑娘。别在意。另一只脚也踩上去，我扶着你。眼睛一直向前看，别往下看。如果感觉自己要掉下去了，就把膝盖弯下来。”

我紧紧地抓着他的肩膀。他很牢靠、温暖，让我感觉很安稳，所以当我把两只脚都踩在了带子上后，也不敢放开双手。带子还在晃，我不知道该怎么办。这时，我想起了：要目视前方，如果感觉自己要掉下去，就弯曲膝盖。

我感受到了，那一个前所未有的时刻：忘掉自己，忘掉了那些完全不大可能的事——遇到一个戴着牛仔帽的男人，并且让自己悬空在他家的草坪上。虽然只有几秒钟，但我放开了。

我抓住梅林，大笑起来，跳下了走绳：

“你是个魔术师。”

“我还是个诗人呢，想听吗？

“我担心摔下来。”我说道。

“可我已经告诉你该怎么做了。”

弯曲膝盖，它不是绷索，它是一根软绳。

我一直没有忘记：拥抱在带子上晃动的奇怪感觉。晃动的不是绳子，而是你自己。