Living in Love, Content and Happy

The most beautiful thing I can imagine is, on a starry night, by the bright moonlight, holding the hand of the one I love and strolling along a quiet, warm country path, with a serenade of frogs and insects ringing in my ears. As we walk, we whisper to each other the same words of love we have repeated countless times, yet never tire of hearing.

Wang Xiaobo wrote in The Golden Age: “That day I was twenty-one, in the golden age of my life. I had so many extravagant hopes. I wanted to love and to eat, and I wanted in an instant to become the half-lit, half-shadowed clouds in the sky. Only later did I learn that life is a process of slowly being hammered; a person grows old day by day, and the extravagant hopes vanish day by day, until at last one becomes like an ox that has taken its beating. But when I turned twenty-one, I did not foresee this. I felt I would always be raw and vigorous, and that nothing could ever break me.”

I too am growing old day by day. I was never a person with many extravagant hopes, and now I have none at all. Yet I have never felt like an ox that has taken its beating; I am still full of passion for life. Perhaps it is because I inherited from my mother a strong gene for mastering love and joy. My mother suffered a great deal, yet she always lived and loved with zest and enthusiasm in circumstances that would have broken others. And I am like my mother's shadow, her qualities shining through me everywhere; my personality is the best gift my mother gave me.

My mother and I were both lucky people; our personalities made it easy for us to love others and to be loved by them. Our whole family loved our mother deeply. Not only that, but my mother also got along extremely well with the neighbors. Many years after she passed away, when I returned home, aunts and sisters-in-law from the neighborhood kept telling me that my mother had brought so much joy to everyone when she was alive and driven away everyone's sorrows.

Love is an ability. This ability is not rare, but neither does everyone possess it. A friend who has been a monk for many years once asked me what love is. I replied to him: “Being in it is love.” Like a Chan koan from a monk, this can be intuited but not put into words.

Many people have probably asked the question of what love is. I think a person who is in love will not be puzzled by this question. A person who loves can perceive what love is: love is the little acts of care and support between two people, the mutual understanding of hearts. Love is not limited to romantic relationships, but for adults, romantic love is the most important of all.

If there is in this world a beloved who shares our heart, no matter how hard and tiring life is, we will not be broken by it. If in this world there are people who know and love us, and many others who care for us and whom we care for in return, then we will not only not be broken by life, but will be full of passion for it.

I remember reading in an anthropology book about a modern scholar chatting with the indigenous people of a small Pacific island, and the topic turned to the concept of “poverty.” The indigenous people asked in surprise: “Why would a person be poor? Does he have no family and no friends?”

This is a very primitive human psychology. As long as we have the love of family and the care of friends, even if we have nothing else, we will not fall into the plight of “poverty.” These indigenous people do not have as many worries as modern people; they live amid the care of family and friends, so joyful that they forget all sorrow.

I like the natural environment of the countryside. In the countryside, relationships between people are not the buyer-seller relationships of modern commercial society. There, one person's liking and care for another are mostly spontaneous, not utilitarian.

In my life I have been fortunate to build with my relatives and friends these bonds of kinship and friendship that spring from nature rather than from utility, and I have also been fortunate to find a soulmate who likewise springs from nature rather than from calculation. So no matter how many storms and hardships my life has gone through, there have never been too many truly dark moments.

Sincerity and tolerance are the necessary conditions of love. A person who always cares for and is considerate of relatives and friends becomes the object of their heartfelt care. Many people lament that their lives lack love, but never reflect on whether they have sincerely given much love. Not every seed of love sprouts, but sow a handful of seeds, and most of them will sprout. Not every relative or friend becomes our strong backing, but if we treat them well, we will not become lonely people.

A universal love for the world is admirable, of course, but in daily life, what truly makes us feel loved and loving are our relatives and friends, our neighbors. The island effect of the city has made neighborly relations cold, but in the countryside almost every household keeps its door open during the day; neighbors can walk straight in without knocking and will not be blamed by the host, nor need the host worry about theft.

In such an acquaintance society, you can chat with the neighbors about everyday things at any time. Or just shout loudly, “Come play cards (mahjong)!”, and immediately people will respond and gather around a table. Although I don't like playing cards or mahjong, I am glad to see this warm human fellowship; it is far more joyful than reading the comment boards under online news threads where people curse and swear.

If the world held only hatred, I would rather never have been born into it. Fortunately, there are still places full of love and warmth. So I know that whenever I go to such a place, I have arrived in heaven. Even if I have nothing at all, in an environment of loving and being loved, I am still infinitely content and happy.