The last decade saw the rise of the field of "plant neurobiology (植物神经生物学)". That debatable field is based on the idea that plants — which do not possess brains — handle information in ways similar to complicated animal nervous systems. This thinking implies that plants could feel happiness or sorrow or pain，make intentional decisions and even possess consciousness. But the chances of that are "effectively zero". "There's nothing in the plant comparable to the complexity of the animal brain," says Taiz, from the University of California, Santa Cruz.

Some plants are capable of complicated behaviors. For example, wounded leaves can send warning signals to other parts of the plant. But plants perform these with equipment that's very different from the nervous systems of animals, no brain required, Taiz argues. He and his colleagues point out methodological faults in some of the studies that claim plants have brain-like command centers and animal-like nerve cells. But beyond the debate over how these studies are conducted, Taiz's team argues that plant consciousness doesn't even make sense from an evolutionary point of view.

"Complicated animal brains advanced in part to help a living being catch a meal and avoid becoming one," Taiz says. "But plants are rooted to the ground and rely on sunlight for energy, an inactive lifestyle that doesn't require quick thinking or outsmarting a predator (捕食者) or the energetically expensive nervous systems that enable those behaviors." "What use would consciousness be to a plant?" Taiz asks. "If a plant worried and suffered when faced with a threat, it would be wasting so much energy that it wouldn't have any left to do anything about that threat," Taiz says. "Furthermore, plants have plenty to do without having to be conscious, too. With sunlight, carbon dioxide and water, plants create the compounds that sustain much of the rest of life on Earth," Taiz points out. "Isn't that enough?"

The meaning of the word "volunteer" may be a little different in different countries, but it usually means "one who offers his or her services." There are many different ways in which people can volunteer, such as taking care of sick people, working on homes for homeless children, and picking up garbage(垃圾) from beaches and parks. Volunteers may work within their countries or in other countries. They are often people with a strong wish to help those who are less fortunate than themselves. Volunteers don't expect any kind of pay.

At the root of volunteering is the idea that one person may have the ability to offer services that can help other people. Tracy, a good friend of mine, however, recently came back from India with a new idea of what being a volunteer means. She worked for two and a half weeks in one of Mother Teresa's homes in Calcutta. The following is her story.

"I first heard about Mother Teresa in my high school, we watched a video(录像) about her work in India and all over the world. I was so moved by her spirit to help others and her endless love for every human being that after I graduated from high school, I too wanted to try her kind of work. So with two friends I flew to Calcutta for a few weeks."

"I was asked to work in a home for sick people. I helped wash clothes and sheets, and pass out lunch. I also fed the people who were too weak to feed themselves and tried to cheer the up. I felt it was better to share with them than to think that I have helped them. To be honest, I don't think I was helping very much. It was then that I realized that I had not really come to help, but to learn about and experience another culture(文化) that helped improve my own understanding of life and the world."

Yu Zeling, an award-winning master of paper cutting, fills her studio with cutouts of animals, people, and scenes that are so vivid that they seem to leap from the walls. Her art covers village life in Ansai, a rural district in Shaanxi Province.

Ms. Yu came to paper cutting in the late 1970s as naturally as she breathed the earthy air. "We were very poor, and when it was time to celebrate the New Year, we all put paper-cuts on the windows to decorate our houses," she says, recalling the holiday at her childhood home. Ms. Yu and others are working to keep the folk art alive, even as it evolves away from its roots as adornment for farmhouses.

The art originated in China in the centuries after paper was invented in A. D. 105. Full of auspicious（吉利的） symbols from daily life, the decorations represented good weather, many offspring, long life, wealth, and happiness.

Using newspaper, Ms. Yu first practiced cutting the image of a Chinese national flag that she saw in a school textbook. She cut it 100 times before she was satisfied. Then her aunt took over, introducing her to increasingly complicated traditional themes.

Ms. Yu was later invited to train in the Ansai's Cultural Center. After years of training, Ms. Yu became a master in her own right, winning one award after another. Her works are on display in museums. But she's humble about her achievements. "I was, and still am, a farmer," she says with a smile.

Hoping to carry on and grow the folk art, Ms. Yu volunteers to teach at free community training sessions. Paper cutting is also taught in Ansai's public schools. Ms. Yu is aware of the need to go beyond protecting traditions and embrace new paper-cut experiments.