D

A warm drink of milkbefore bed has long been the best choice for those wanting a good night'ssleep. But now a study has found it really does help people nod off—if it ismilked from a cow at night.

  Researchers have discovered that“night milk” contains more melatonin(褪黑激素), which has been proven tohelp people feel sleepy and reduce anxiety.

  The study, by researchersfrom Seoul, South Korea, involved mice being fed with dried milk powder madefrom cows milked both during the day and at night.

  Those given night milk, whichcontained 10 times the amount of melatonin, were less active and less anxiousthan those fed with the milk collected during daytime, according to the studypublished in The Journal of MedicinalFood.

   Night milk quickened the startof sleep and caused the mice to sleep longer.

   While the effect of cowsmilk harvested at different time has not been tested on humans up to now,taking melatonin drugs has been suggested to those who are struggling to fallasleep at night.

   Previous studies have alsoindicated that milk can be excellent for helping sleep because of the calciumcontent, which helps people to relax.

  Milk is also sugar-free andadditive-free with nutritionists recommending skimmed milk as the best choicebefore bed as it is the least fattening. The more fat you take in beforebedtime, the greater burden you will put on your body at night.

D

    I read somewhere that we spend a full third of our lives waiting. But where are we doing all of this waiting, and what does it mean to an impatient society like ours? To understand the issue, let's take a look at three types of “waits”.

    The very purest form of waiting is the Watched-Pot Wait. It is without doubt the most annoying of all. Take filling up the kitchen sink(洗碗池) as an example. There is absolutely nothing you can do while this is going on but keep both eyes fixed on the sink until it's full. During these waits, the brain slips away from the body and wanders about until the water runs over the edge of the counter and onto your socks. This kind of wait makes the waiter helpless and mindless.

    A cousin to the Watched-Pot Wait is the Forced Wait. This one requires a bit of discipline. Properly preparing packaged noodle soup requires a Forced Wait. Directions are very specific. “Bring three cups of water to boil, add mix, simmer three minutes, remove from heat, let stand five minutes.”I have my doubts that anyone has actually followed the procedures strictly. After all, Forced Waiting requires patience.

    Perhaps the most powerful type of waiting is the Lucky-Break Wait. This type of wait is unusual in that it is for the most part voluntary. Unlike the Forced Wait, which is also voluntary, waiting for your lucky break does not necessarily mean that it will happen.

    Turning one's life into a waiting game requires faith and hope, and is strictly for the optimists among us. On the surface it seems as ridiculous as following the directions on soup mixes, but the Lucky-Break Wait well serves those who are willing to do it. As long as one doesn't come to rely on it, wishing for a few good things to happen never hurts anybody.

    We certainly do spend a good deal of our time waiting. The next time you're standing at the sink waiting for it to fill while cooking noodle soup that you'll have to eat until a large bag of cash falls out of the sky, don't be desperate. You're probably just as busy as the next guy.

    I look back sometimes at the person I was before I rediscovered my old professor. I want to talk to that person. I want to tell him what to look out for, what mistakes to avoid. I want to tell him to be more open, to ignore the temptation of advertised values, to pay attention when your loved ones are speaking, as if it were the last time you might hear them.

    Mostly I want to tell that person to get on an airplane and visit a gentle old man in West Newton, Massachusetts, sooner rather than later, before that old man gets sick and loses his ability to dance.

    I know I cannot do this. None of us can undo what we've done, or relive a life already recorded. But if Professor Morrie Schwartz taught me anything at all, it was this: there is no such thing as “too late” in life. He was changing until the day he said good-bye.

    Not long after Morrie's death, I reached my brother in Spain. We had a long talk. I told him I respected his distance, and that all I wanted was to be in touch—in the present, not just the past—to hold him in my life as much as he could let me.

    “You're my only brother,” I said. “I don't want to lose you. I love you.”

    I had never said such a thing to him before. A few days later, I received a message on my fax machine. It was typed in the sprawling, poorly punctuated, all-cap-letters fashion that always characterized my brother's words.

    “HI I'VE JOINED THE NINETIES!” it began. He wrote a few little stories, what he'd been doing that week, a couple of jokes. At the end, he signed off this way:

I HAVE HEARTBURN AND DIAHREA(腹泻) AT THE MOMENT—LIFE'S A BITCH. CHAT LATER?

[signed] SORE TUSH.

I laughed until there were tears in my eyes.

    This book was largely Morrie's idea. He called it our “final thesis.” Like the best of work projects, it brought us closer together, and Morrie was delighted when several publishers expressed interest, even though he died before meeting any of them. The advance money helped pay Morrie's enormous medical bills, and for that we were both grateful.

    The title, by the way, we came up with one day in Morrie's office. He liked naming things. He had several ideas. But when I said, “How about Tuesdays with Morrie?” he smiled in an almost blushing way, and I knew that was it.

    After Morrie died, I went through boxes of old college material. And I discovered a final paper I had written for one of his classes. It was twenty years old now. On the front page were my penciled comments scribbled to Morrie, and beneath them were his comments scribbled back.

    Mine began, “Dear Coach . . .”

    His began, “Dear Player . . .”

    For some reason, each time I read that, I miss him more.

    Have you ever really had a teacher? One who saw you as a raw but precious thing, a jewel that, with wisdom, could be polished to a proud shine? If you are lucky enough to find your way to such teachers, you will always find your way back. Sometimes it is only in your head. Sometimes it is right alongside their beds.

    The last class of my old professor's life took place once a week, in his home, by a window in his study where he could watch a small hibiscus(木槿) plant shed its pink flowers. The class met on Tuesdays. No books were required. The subject was the meaning of life. It was taught from experience.

    The teaching goes on.

    Given that many people 's moods(情绪)are regulated by the chemical action of chocolate, it was probably only a matter of time before somebody made the chocolate shop similar to a drugstore of Chinese medicine. Looking like a setting from the film Charlie& the Chocolate Factory, Singapore's Chocolate Research Facility (CRF) has over 100 varieties of chocolates. Its founder is Chris Lee who grew up at his parents' comer store with one hand almost always in the jar of sweets.

    If the CRF seems to be a smart idea, that's because Lee is not merely a seasoned salesperson but also head of a marketing department that has business relations with big names such as Levi's and Sony. That idea surely results in the imagination at work when it comes to making different flavored (味道)chocolates.

    The CRF's produce is “green” made within the country and divided into10 lines, with the Alcohol Series being the most popular. The Exotic Series—with Sichuan pepper, red bean (豆), cheese and other flavors also—does well and is fun to taste. And for chocolate snobs, who think that they have a better knowledge of chocolate than others, the Connoisseur Series uses cocoa beans from Togo, Cuba, Venezuela , and Ghana, among others.

    In a world with limited land, water and other natural resources (资源), the harm from the traditional business model is on the rise. Actually, the past decades has seen more and more forests disappearing and globe becoming increasingly warm. People now realize that this unhealthy situation must be changed, and that we must be able to develop in sustainable (可持续的) ways. That means growth with low carbon or development of sustainable products. In other words, we should keep the earth healthy while using its supply of natural resources.

    Today, sustainable development is a proper trend in many countries. According to a recent study, the global market for low-carbon energy will become three times bigger over the next decades. China, for example, has set its mind on leading that market, hoping to seize chances in the new round of the global energy revolution. It is now trying hard to make full use of wind and solar energy, and is spending a huge amount of money making electric cars and high-speed trains. In addition, we are also seeing great growth in the global markets for sustainable products such as palm oil (棕榈油), which is produced without cutting down valuable rainforest. In recent years the markets for sustainable products have grown by more than 50%.

    The major challenge of this century is to find ways to meet the needs of growing population within the limits of this single planet. That is no small task, but it offers abundant new chances for sustainable product industries.

    Adults understand what it feels like to be flooded with objects(物品). Why do we often think that more is more when it comes to kids and their belongings? The good news is that I can help my own kids learn earlier than I did how to live more with less.

    I found the pre-holidays a good time to encourage young children to donate less-used things, and it worked. Because of our efforts, our daughter Georgia did decide to donate a large bag of toys to a little girl whose mother was unable to pay for her holiday due to illness. She chose to sell a few larger objects that were less often used when we promised to put the money into her school fund (基金) (our kindergarten daughter is serious about becoming a doctor).

    For weeks, I've been thinking of bigger, deeper questions: How do we make it a habit for them? And how do we train ourselves to help them live with, need, and use less? Yesterday, I sat with my son, Shepherd, determined to test my own theory on this. I decided to play with him with only one toy for as long as it would keep his interest. I expected that one toy would keep his attention for about five minutes, ten minutes, max. I chose a red rubber ball — simple, universally available. We passed it, he tried to put it in his mouth, he tried bouncing it, rolling it, sitting on it, throwing it. It was totally, completely enough for him. Before I knew it an hour had passed and it was time to move on to lunch.

    We both became absorbed in the simplicity of playing together. He had my full attention and I had his. My little experiment to find joy in a single object worked for both of us.