With Experience Comes Detachment; With Depth of Learning Comes Calm

Shi Yunyu, a Zhuangyuan (top scholar) of the Qianlong era in the Qing dynasty, wrote a famous couplet: "Where the spirit reaches, the writing matures; when learning is deep, the temper evens." I have slightly modified it as the title of this piece, to express some personal feelings.

A person entering the world generally passes through a phase of warm idealism, then bitter disappointment, and gradual adaptation. It is a process of maturing judgment, and of stripping the foam from one's ideals.

As life experience accumulates, I believe most people continually correct their view of life.

In Dream of the Red Chamber there is a couplet: "Seeing through the ways of the world shatters one's nerve; fathoming human nature chills the heart to the bone." This couplet reflects precisely the situation of an idealistic person who, after some real life experience, gradually becomes thoroughly disillusioned with reality.

Some people sink into this disappointment; others continually readjust themselves and eventually reach a quiet, contented equanimity. That state is what I mean by "with experience comes detachment."

A person who loves to think may, in the storms of life, wash away the grit in his heart and gradually settle into a clear pool, finally reaching a realm in which favor and disgrace do not disturb him and he stands detached from things.

The diversity of human nature means our human society is full of uncertainty.

We often say someone is fickle, but the word is misused. When someone who was one way suddenly becomes another, it is not because he is fickle but because human nature is complex and diverse; he has simply changed because we saw a side of him we had not seen before.

We habitually and wishfully assume that only the likable sides of human nature should exist, and that the unlikable sides should not. This simplistic selection of human nature according to our own likes and dislikes is precisely a sign of an immature mind.

Humans are by nature social animals, so most choose a gregarious life, building various social ties. Only a very few choose complete withdrawal; even they are not necessarily superior—at best, they simply cannot adapt to group social life.

Humans are essentially animals that must eat, drink, and excrete, and must obtain resources from nature and society to survive. So all kinds of predatory and deceptive behavior between people in the struggle for resources is unsurprising. The evil part of human nature is innate; the good part is what has been tamed.

Anthropologists hold that many human virtues—mutual aid and affection, for instance—were trained under communal living. Early humans could not hunt successfully alone; they had to rely on companions to catch prey and survive, and had to stand together against external threats. These interdependencies gave rise to the various human virtues.

But from childhood we are full of illusions, wrongly believing human society has become civilized enough for universal, everlasting mutual aid and honesty. This naive view of life is bound to be mocked by reality, and such mockery shatters one's dreams.

Only with enough experience can we recognize that both the good and evil sides of human nature objectively exist. Only then can we more deeply understand that every one of us, as one of the masses, cannot escape the helplessness of the human condition—not only others, but we ourselves.

If we still do not recognize that we ourselves share this helplessness, our minds are not mature enough to see our own errors. I often see people who think themselves good and everyone else evil; their hearts are full of indignation and complaint. With respect, I say: such a person is not yet mature enough to turn inward.

In Caigentan (Vegetable Roots Discourse) there is a passage: "A perfect name and fair fame should not be monopolized; share some with others, and you can avoid harm and preserve your whole self. Dishonorable conduct and a tarnished name should not be pushed entirely away; take some upon yourself, and you can conceal your light and nourish virtue."

In my humble opinion, this passage is well put, but not well enough.

It encourages us to endure a little tarnish to our reputation, which is meaningful. But it seems to encourage a gentlemanly bearing so as to make oneself look better, downplaying the essential truth that everyone carries inherent flaws.

A better formulation, I think, is that we must admit that we ourselves, like everyone else, carry flaws to varying degrees. Like all other beings, we helplessly live within the complexities of human nature, unable to reach a state of "resting in the highest good."

Such understanding helps us achieve a tolerant, calm mindset: no longer craving "sweet as maltose" intimacy, and no longer harboring too much resentment and score-keeping.

This is what I mean by "with experience comes detachment, and with depth of learning comes calm."

Detachment and equanimity are two sides of one coin; their essence is to give up demanding and fantasizing that human nature and society rest in "highest good." Only by giving up this demand can we treat every being—including ourselves—with tolerance, forgiving others and forgiving ourselves, not being harsh on others or ourselves out of excess demand.

Note that I am speaking of giving up the demand that human nature and society rest in highest good, not giving up the pursuit of it. Personally, I heartily encourage everyone to pursue continual self-improvement and social improvement.

But it is like an exam: we can hardly score full marks in every subject. As humans with limited ability, we truly cannot "rest in highest good." As the ancients said: no one is perfect, and no gold is entirely pure. That being so, why be at odds with ourselves and with the world?

Finally, today is the Gaokao (national college entrance exam). At the end of this piece, Uncle wishes all you "baking" examinees a victorious start and instant success, and that every one of you gets into your ideal university. Uncle will be waiting for you on the construction site, in four years, to come out and move bricks with me.