Living by the Farmland

These past few days I have mentioned to the children's mother many times that I want to find a clear day, get up very early, and ride my bike to the rice paddies at the foot of Yuquan Mountain to watch the sunrise. But when I get up in the morning, I always choose to stay in bed and read a while rather than rushing to the hilltop of Zhongwu Park or Beiwucun Park to watch the sunrise.

Maybe I'm too lazy, or maybe it's because it's so close to my home that I'm in no rush to accomplish this goal—when there is plenty of opportunity to do something, one doesn't feel so urgent.

Opening Baidu Maps and searching for Zhongwu Park, the app shows it is 8.6 km from my home, taking 38 minutes by bike. In reality, each time we cycle there it only takes about 25 minutes, 50 minutes round trip. The park is small; strolling around it takes less than half an hour.

Sometimes I cycle directly to Beiwu Park or Yujiao Country Park, taking about twenty minutes, ride around the park and come back. Sometimes I go to Yinghulou Park for a walk, see the snake strawberry (Duchesnea) and dandelion growing everywhere, or go to Beiwucun Park to walk the mountain paths around the big lake.

This kind of cycle-plus-walk trip has become part of our daily life. After dinner, the whole family rides together for exercise, wandering through the park full of rice paddies and lotus ponds. When the weather is good, we also take photos or shoot a short video.

I love this kind of life; it gives me a feeling of returning to childhood. Being close to nature often makes both body and mind feel very relaxed. There are rivers in the park, and quite a few ponds; in summer children play in the river, and some fishing enthusiasts angle in these ponds. This scene is much like what I experienced in my hometown as a child.

I used to be passionate about fishing; as a child I spent entire summer vacations by the small river at the village entrance, fishing from dawn until dusk. But now I can no longer muster interest in this hobby. On one hand, I have seen too much patient suffering and cannot bear the thought of personally making another living creature feel pain; on the other hand, my own time is too precious, and spending so much time fishing by the water feels like wasting my life. So, for my birthday once before the pandemic, the children and their mother spent several hundred yuan on a very nice set of fishing gear for me, and I have not used it even once to this day.

The farmland ecological environment here is well protected; we often encounter toads, weasels, squirrels, and white egrets in the woods, and sometimes at night while cycling through the trees we can even hear owls calling. Because it is close to the Western Suburbs Airport, there are no tall buildings in this area. It is also close to Fragrant Hills, Yuquan Mountain, and the Western Hills, and water resources are abundant, so this is an ideal habitat for wild animals and birds. We don't need to trek over mountains to another place seeking a paradise of birdsong and flowers—it is right here.

Every day I deal with one of the world's most suffering groups; I hear both good news and bad. Some patients tell me their pain has eased and their condition improved; some tell me their pain is worsening and their condition deteriorating, begging me to think of another way; still other patients pass away one after another, carrying all kinds of regrets.

Ascites, pleural effusion, cancer pain, cancer fever, hematemesis, hemoptysis, intestinal obstruction, biliary obstruction, pyloric obstruction, and the side effects of various treatments—these compose scene after scene of human tragedy. At each follow-up, various imaging reports, tumor markers, and blood test reports fill patients and families with either joy or worry.

For most people who have reached the point of cancer, the greatest aspiration is simply to still be alive. They have high expectations of doctors; patients often inexplicably place very high expectations on me, evaluating me much more highly than I evaluate myself, to the point of being unrealistic. In the past I always rushed to explain that I was not as impressive as they expected. Now I have gradually grown used to silence. When a person is this ill, they naturally need some spiritual anchor; sometimes we must serve as their pillar. If we cannot help them defeat death, then helping them overcome their fear of death is also worthwhile.

Many healthcare workers serving cancer patients cannot bear the pressure brought by this despairing group, but I am growing more comfortable in this field—not that I can solve all the patients' problems, but that I can handle this work, which urgently needs people like me, without feeling too much pressure or too many negative emotions from it. Facing death is an extremely cruel thing; a person with poor psychological resilience can hardly be competent for the work of a clinical oncology practitioner.

Landscape has helped me enormously. I devote my emotions to nature, and nature has given me richly in return—it always lets me be at peace wherever I am. Or, to borrow a Buddhist phrase, it is called abiding in the present. In the words of psychologists, there are no psychological or spiritual barriers.

I used to admire Su Dongpo, thinking he was a man who moved freely between heaven and earth, carefree and at ease in living. Like him, I also have a special fondness for pastoral life. Later, after reading the various articles he wrote himself and biographies of Su Dongpo written by others, I felt he also had many things he could not control. His greatness lay in his ability to well adjust his mindset and adapt to various environments.

Now I sometimes think that if Su Dongpo were alive, perhaps he would actually envy me. Because unlike him, I don't need to be constrained by the system; I have more freedom than he did and don't have to do so many things against my will. This is the benefit social development has brought us—it gives educated people more and freer life choices.

I once wrote a poem: "Green mountains and clear waters are always at ease, blue skies and white clouds need no Zen. The worldly bustle knows no end, yet insects chirp and birds sing in joy." Whether a view is good or bad actually depends on one's state of mind. An optimistic person, wherever they are, can feel the beauty of nature; a person prone to depression, even in a paradise, will not feel much joy.

Now I gradually understand that whether a person is optimistic or negative depends largely on innate genetic factors—of course, acquired environment also has some influence. So an optimistic person is born lucky; whether life is poor or rich, whether or not disease strikes, it cannot affect an optimist's happiness index. I have seen optimistic cancer patients and pessimistic healthy people; by comparison, the optimistic cancer patient lives a happier life than the pessimistic healthy person. Although to outsiders, getting cancer is truly a great misfortune in life.

When a person reaches my age, has witnessed the deaths of so many, and is naturally a contented person, it becomes hard to be burdened by external things. Not only that, but one is also not burdened by empty fame. I am a farm boy who washed his feet and came ashore; my father's life belief was raising his children to achieve success, and he persisted in this belief and ultimately achieved it. But now, I prefer the life of taking off my shoes and going down into the fields, because such a life is simple and solid.

There was an elder in the TCM community named Tao Hongjing, who wrote the book Collecting Commentaries on the Materia Medica Classic and also wrote a poem: "What is there in the mountains? On the ridges lie many white clouds. It is only for my own delight; I cannot offer it to you to take."

This poem expresses the heartfelt voice of many people, myself included; the blue skies and white clouds on the ridges are enough to satisfy us. Of course, in this sweltering season, a bit of gentle cool breeze would make it even better. As for fame and fortune, let others compete for them! We do not envy their happiness, and they do not understand ours. Each follows their own path, non-interfering, just enjoying ourselves.