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《HOPE English 希平方》服務條款關於個人資料收集與使用之規定

隱私權政策
上次更新日期:2014-12-30

希平方 為一英文學習平台,我們每天固定上傳優質且豐富的影片內容,讓您不但能以有趣的方式學習英文,還能增加內涵,豐富知識。我們非常注重您的隱私,以下說明為當您使用我們平台時,我們如何收集、使用、揭露、轉移及儲存你的資料。請您花一些時間熟讀我們的隱私權做法,我們歡迎您的任何疑問或意見,提供我們將產品、服務、內容、廣告做得更好。

本政策涵蓋的內容包括:希平方 如何處理蒐集或收到的個人資料。
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兒童及青少年之保護 兒童及青少年上網已經成為無可避免之趨勢,使用網際網路獲取知識更可以培養子女的成熟度與競爭能力。然而網路上的確存有不適宜兒童及青少年接受的訊息,例如色情與暴力的訊息,兒童及青少年有可能因此受到心靈與肉體上的傷害。因此,為確保兒童及青少年使用網路的安全,並避免隱私權受到侵犯,家長(或監護人)應先檢閱各該網站是否有保護個人資料的「隱私權政策」,再決定是否同意提出相關的個人資料;並應持續叮嚀兒童及青少年不可洩漏自己或家人的任何資料(包括姓名、地址、電話、電子郵件信箱、照片、信用卡號等)給任何人。

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上次更新日期:2013-09-16

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「Anjali Kumar:我沒有成功找到上帝,但我卻找到了...」- My Failed Mission to Find God—and What I Found Instead


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A few years ago, I set out on a mission to find God. Now, I'm going to tell you right up front that I failed, which, as a lawyer, is a really hard thing for me to admit. But on that failed journey, a lot of what I found was enlightening. And one thing in particular gave me a lot of hope. And it has to do with the magnitude and significance of our differences.

So, I was raised in America by Indian parents—culturally Hindu, but practicing a strict and relatively unknown religion outside of India called Jainism. To give you an idea of just how minority that makes me: people from India represent roughly one percent of the US population; Hindus, about 0.7 percent; Jains, at most .00046 percent. To put that in context: more people visit the Vermont Teddy Bear Factory each year than are followers of the Jain religion in America. To add to my minority mix, my parents then decided, "What a great idea! Let's send her to Catholic school"—where my sister and I were the only non-white, non-Catholic students in the entire school.

At the Infant Jesus of Prague School in Flossmoor, Illinois—yes, that's really what it was called—we were taught to believe that there is a single Supreme Being who is responsible for everything, the whole shebang, from the creation of the universe to moral shepherding to eternal life. But at home, I was being taught something entirely different. Followers of the Jain religion don't believe in a single Supreme Being or even a team of Supreme Beings. Instead, we're taught that God manifests as the perfection of each of us as individuals, and that we're actually spending our entire lives striving to remove the bad karmas that stand in the way of us becoming our own godlike, perfect selves. On top of that, one of the core principles of Jainism is something called "non-absolutism."Non-absolutists believe that no single person can hold ownership or knowledge of absolute truth, even when it comes to religious beliefs. Good luck testing that concept out on the priests and nuns in your Catholic school.

No wonder I was confused and hyperaware of how different I was from my peers. Cut to 20-something years later, and I found myself to be a highly spiritual person, but I was floundering. I was spiritually homeless. I came to learn that I was a "None," which isn't an acronym or a clever play on words, nor is it one of these. It's simply the painfully uninspired name given to everyone who checks off the box "none" when Pew Research asks them about their religious affiliation.

Now, a couple of interesting things about Nones are: there are a lot of us, and we skew young. In 2014, there were over 56 million religiously unaffiliated Nones in the United States. And Nones account for over one-third of adults between the ages of 18 to 33. But the most interesting thing to me about Nones is that we're often spiritual. In fact, 68 percent of us believe, with some degree of certainty, that there is a God. We're just not sure who it is.

So the first takeaway for me when I realized I was a None and had found that information out was that I wasn't alone. I was finally part of a group in America that had a lot of members, which felt really reassuring. But then the second, not-so-reassuring takeaway was that, oh, man, there are a lot of us. That can't be good, because if a lot of highly spiritual people are currently godless, maybe finding God is not going to be as easy as I had originally hoped.

So that is when I decided that on my spiritual journey, I was going to avoid the obvious places and skip the big-box religions altogether and instead venture out into the spiritual fringe of mediums and faith healers and godmen. But remember, I'm a non-absolutist, which means I was pretty inclined to keep a fairly open mind, which turned out to be a good thing, because I went to a witch's potluck dinner at the LGBT Center in New York City, where I befriended two witches; drank a five-gallon jerrican full of volcanic water with a shaman in Peru; got a hug from a saint in the convention center—she smelled really nice—chanted for hours in a smoke-filled, heat-infused sweat lodge on the beaches of Mexico; worked with a tequila-drinking medium to convene with the dead, who oddly included both my deceased mother-in-law and the deceased manager of the hip-hop group The Roots.

My mother-in-law told me she was really happy her son had chosen me for his wife. Duh! Yeah. The manager of The Roots said that maybe I should cut back on all the pasta I was eating. I think we can all agree that it was lucky for my husband that it wasn't his dead mother who suggested I lay off carbs.

I also joined a laughing yoga group out of South Africa; witnessed a woman have a 45-minute orgasm—I am not making this up—as she tapped into the energy of the universe—I think I'm going to go back there—called God from a phone booth in the Nevada desert at Burning Man, wearing a unitard and ski goggles; and I had an old Indian guy lie on top of me, and no, he wasn't my husband. This was a perfect stranger named Paramji, and he was chanting into my chakras as he tapped into the energy forces of the universe to heal my "yoni," which is a Sanskrit word for "vagina."

I was going to have a slide here, but a few people suggested that a slide of my yoni at TED—even TEDWomen—not the best idea.

Very early in my quest, I also went to see the Brazilian faith healer John of God at his compound down in Brazil. Now, John of God is considered a full-trance medium, which basically means he can talk to dead people. But in his case, he claims to channel a very specific group of dead saints and doctors in order to heal whatever's wrong with you. And although John of God does not have a medical degree or even a high school diploma, he actually performs surgery—the real kind, with a scalpel, but no anesthesia. Yeah, I don't know. He also offers invisible surgery, where there is no cutting, and surrogate surgery, where he supposedly can treat somebody who is thousands of miles away by performing a procedure on a loved one.

Now, when you go to visit John of God, there are all kinds of rules and regulations. It's a whole complicated thing, but the bottom line is that you can visit John of God and present him with three things that you would like fixed, and he will set the dead saints and doctors to work on your behalf to get the job done.

Now, before you snicker, consider that, at least according to his website, over eight million people—including Oprah, the Goddess of Daytime TV—have gone to see John of God, and I was pre-wired to keep an open mind. But to be honest, the whole thing for me was kind of weird and inconclusive, and in the end, I flew home, even more confused than I already started out. But that doesn't mean I came home empty-handed.

In the weeks leading up to my trip to Brazil, I mentioned my upcoming plans to some friends and to a couple of colleagues at Google, where I was a lawyer at the time. And I might have mentioned it to a couple more people because I'm chatty, including my neighbor, the guy who works at the local coffee shop I go to each morning, the checkout lady at Whole Foods and a stranger who sat next to me on the subway. I told each of them where I was going and why, and I offered to carry three wishes of theirs down to Brazil, explaining that anyone going to see John of God could act as a proxy for others and save them the trip. And to my surprise, my in-box overflowed. Friends told friends who told friends, and those friends apparently told more friends, other strangers and the guys at their coffee shops, until it seemed that days before I left for Brazil that there was no one who did not have my email address. And at the time, all I could conclude was that I had offered too much to too many. But when I actually reread those messages a few years later, I noticed something completely different. Those emails actually shared three commonalities, the first of which was rather curious.

Almost everyone sent me meticulous details about how they could be reached. I had told them, or their friends had told them, that along with the list of the three things they wanted fixed, I needed their photo, their name and their date of birth. But they gave me full addresses, with, like, apartment numbers and zip codes, as if John of God was going to stop by their house and see them in person or send along a package. It was as if, in the highly unlikely event that their wishes were granted by John of God, they just wanted to make sure that they weren't delivered to the wrong person or the wrong address. Even if they didn't believe, they were hedging their bets.

The second commonality was just as curious, but far more humbling. Virtually everyone—the stranger on the subway, the guy at the coffee shop, the lawyer down the hall, the Jew, the atheist, the Muslim, the devout Catholic—all asked for essentially the same three things. OK, there were a couple of outliers, and yes, a few people asked for cash. But when I eliminated what were ultimately a handful of anomalies, the similarities were staggering. Almost every single person first asked for good health for themselves and their families. Almost universally, they next asked for happiness and then love, in that order: health, happiness, love. Sometimes they asked for a specific health issue to be fixed, but more often than not, they just asked for good health in general.

When it came to happiness, they each phrased it slightly differently, but they all asked for the same specific subtype of happiness, too—the kind of happiness that sinks in and sets down roots in your soul; the kind of happiness that could sustain us, even if we were to lose absolutely everything else.

And for love, they all asked for the kind of romantic love, the soul mate that we read about in epic romantic novels, the kind of love that will stay with us till the end of our days.

Sorry, that's my husband.

Crap! Now I forgot my place.

So by and large, all of these friends and strangers, regardless of their background, race or religion, all asked for the same things, and they were the same things that I really wanted, the simplified version of the basic human needs identified by social scientists like Abraham Maslow and Manfred Max-Neef. No one asked for answers to the big existential questions or for proof of God or the meaning of life like I had set out to find. They didn't even ask for an end to war or global hunger. Even when they could have asked for absolutely anything, they all asked for health, happiness and love.

So now those emails had a third commonality as well. Each of them ended in the exact same way. Instead of thanking me for carting their wishes all the way to Brazil, everyone said, "Please don't tell anyone." So I decided to tell everyone—right here on this stage, not because I'm untrustworthy, but because the fact that we have so much in common feels especially important for us all to hear, especially now, when so many of the world's problems seem to be because we keep focusing on the things that make us different, not on what binds us together.

And look—I am the first to admit that I am not a statistician, and that the data I presented to you that I just accumulated in my in-box is more anecdotal than scientific, more qualitative than quantitative. It is, as anyone who works with data would tell you, hardly a statistically significant or demographically balanced sample. But nonetheless, I find myself thinking about those emails every time I reflect back on the bias and prejudice that I've faced in my life, or when there's another hate crime or a senseless tragedy that underscores the disheartening sense that our differences might be insurmountable. I then remind myself that I have evidence that the humbling, unifying commonality of our humanity is that, even when presented with the opportunity to ask for anything at all, most of us want the same things, and that this is true no matter who we are, what name we call our god, or which religion, if any, we call home.

I then also note that apparently some of us want these things so badly that we would email a None, a spiritually confused None like me—some might say otherwise confused as well—and that we would seek out this stranger and email her our deepest wishes, just in case there is the remote possibility that they might be granted by someone who is not a god, much less our god, someone who is not even a member of our chosen religion, someone who, when you look at him on paper, seems like an unlikely candidate to deliver.

And so now, when I reflect back on my spiritual quest, even though I did not find God, I found a home in this: even today, in a world fractured by religious, ethnic, political, philosophical, and racial divides, even with all of our obvious differences, at the end of the day, and the most fundamental level, we are all the same. Thank you.

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