A Bamboo Raincoat Through Life's Showers

Listen not to rain beating leaves through the forest—why not stroll on, chanting lightly? A bamboo staff and straw sandals are lighter than a horse; who fears? A bamboo raincoat through life's showers.

The biting spring wind sobers the wine; a little chill, yet the slanting sun beyond the hill greets me. Looking back at the bleak scene I came through—going home, there is neither rain nor clear sky.

— Su Shi, on hearing rain beat through the forest

I was born in a region of many bamboo groves; all my life I have loved bamboo and loved this poem by Su Shi. The park in Beijing with the most bamboo is Zizhuyuan (Purple Bamboo Park); even its name carries the word "bamboo." I live near Zizhuyuan, a ten-minute walk away. I like to stroll there on sunny days, sometimes taking a book, finding a quiet corner and reading by myself for half a day.

Zizhuyuan is the largest free park in Beijing. It is full of all kinds of folk "song-and-dance troupes": retired elderly or middle-aged people who do not need to work form choirs, bands, and dance teams, each "occupying" a corner of the park, singing and dancing to their heart's content, fully enjoying life. Some young people also come on weekends to dance cha-cha and street dance.

After all, this is the capital, so the level of these amateur troupes is quite high. I have watched folk song and dance in parks in other cities, but their standard really cannot compare with that in Zizhuyuan. I love the joyful atmosphere here. Strolling in the park, I sometimes stop for a while to enjoy the performances of these talented people.

Generally, the people performing in the parks are very approachable. Occasionally I chat with them, expressing admiration for their skill, and such expressions are always well received. After all, whether or not one has vanity, being praised is a pleasure. This kind of interaction makes me feel that the human world is beautiful and the lives of ordinary citizens are fulfilling; it also lets me forget grief and worry.

The center of my life has gradually shifted away from my hometown to a "circle" in Beijing formed by Fragrant Hills, Zizhuyuan Park, the National Library, and my home. This "circle" has beautiful natural scenery, pleasant countryside, and delightful culture; it suits someone like me. I have gradually been domesticated by the life here, and this circle frequently works small miracles of healing on me. Whenever I stroll in the park, appreciating the beauty of all living beings, read in the library, or grow vegetables at the foot of Fragrant Hill, the turmoil in my heart gradually settles.

Inevitably we must part from and lose our loved ones; we must endure the pain of loving parting. The American psychiatrist Silvano Arieti used to teach his students that the most painful thing for human beings is love and loss, and that many psychological traumas arise from it. But time and life always heal us, and the joy of those around us can greatly infect us. Seeing them sing, dance, and enjoy their lives, I genuinely love these joyful people. Which of them has not experienced parting and death? Yet they still smile at life.

Being human, loving parting is unavoidable. As living beings, after experiencing loving parting, we must still throw ourselves back into life with great enthusiasm, making the rest of our days better and leaving no regrets in this life.

Everyone eventually dies or parts. Today it is someone else who leaves; before long it will be ourselves. While alive, live well; enjoy each day happily; love well those who remain by my side; create more beautiful moments with them. These beautiful moments are what is most valuable in our lives—love and the things we love always make us happy.

Perhaps it is that I left the environment of my hometown, or perhaps I have experienced too many partings and deaths, but a callus has gradually formed on my heart, and I am much more resilient now. So by the third day after returning to Beijing, I could again handle my work and life easily and freely, and feel the joy of life with others, no longer tormented by the pain of the previous days.

Having grown used to birth, old age, illness, and death, one naturally comes to understand the open-hearted mood of "a bamboo raincoat through life's showers." In this life, sorrow and joy are always intermingled. In the end, it is impossible to distinguish whether the present is sorrow or joy, nor is it necessary. Let everything remain in the state of "neither rain nor clear sky." When something cannot be put into words, do not try to put it into words.