Moderate Exercise, a Strong Body, a Fulfilled Mind, and Freedom from Disease

In the season when warmth returns but cold still lingers, a sudden blizzard descended on Beijing, and the temperature plummeted to around freezing. Still, I kept riding my bike in the snow and, over the weekend, renewed the lease on the small vegetable plot I planted last year.

I was frail and sickly from childhood, but I have now successfully shed that label; my body is healthy. I am full of energy every day, with high learning and working efficiency. I used to fear cold and cough for months after every cold; now I no longer fear cold, rarely catch cold, and have not coughed for a long time. I can now wear a short-sleeved shirt and do all kinds of exercise in the snow.

I used no medicines and took no tonics, did no moxibustion for health preservation, and eat a very light diet. I simply persist in exercise and physical labor. Country folk like to say that someone who looks sickly is just not diligent, and that a bit of work and a good sweat will do much good; this crude folk wisdom has some truth.

Exercise not only strengthens our body but also greatly relieves stress. After each workout I come home, take a hot shower, and nap for ten or twenty minutes; I then feel much lighter. Every negative emotion accumulated in life and work is swept away, and I can return to work bright-eyed again.

I especially love the pleasure, during exercise, of fully controlling my own body. My most frequent daily exercise is cycling, a light and comfortable activity—especially when we do not chase professional-athlete speed. On the bike I feel like a smooth, graceful line weaving freely and swiftly through the traffic; this sense of bodily mastery fills me with confidence in my body and my life.

Cycling in the suburbs is like a short trip, letting me touch nature, away from the concrete jungle. Being close to green nature is a joy for someone who grew up in the countryside. But I do not over-exercise or overwork; too many country people develop soft-tissue and bone injuries from excessive labor. Few athletes live long; besides soft-tissue and bone injuries, motor-nerve damage and brain injury are common among athletes, and they often end up in the emergency room. Sudden deaths occur every year in gyms and on sports fields—this is excess being as bad as deficiency. So physical exercise is not the more the better, nor the more intense the better; exercising until a moderate sweat is enough.

COVID-19 will coexist with humanity for many years to come, and besides the coronavirus, many new viruses and bacteria will coexist with us. Beyond vaccines, our own immunity will be our most effective barrier against the coronavirus and future pathogens. From antiquity to the present, germs have been applying natural selection to humans; the frail in body and unsound in spirit are most easily eliminated. People who are strong in both body and mind need not fear being eliminated in a plague; so I am neither afraid nor anxious.

My happiness comes from within, unaffected by the outside. I relieve the physical and mental suffering of many patients; some patients are perpetually unhappy, and however hard I rack my brain, it is hard to cheer them. But for me, happiness is within easy reach: reading, writing, planting flowers and vegetables, playing music, cycling, and working can all make me confident and joyful. I have steadfast strength within; I can control everything about myself, unaffected by anyone's judgment. Studies show that well-being is contagious to those around us; a happy writer can bring happiness to readers. If this is true, I am all the happier, for I wish everyone a happy life.

I am unaffected by this noisy world; I live in my own spiritual world. My desires are low and I can control my life; I set myself no goals that must be achieved, and rarely ask favors of others. Even if I ate only steamed buns and greens every day, I would envy no one, unmoved by outside advertising, political propaganda, or authorities and opinion leaders in every field. This keeps my heart steady as a rock; no trend or storm can sway me, and I walk only in the direction of life I love.

I privately believe this is the best way to peace of mind in the world. Although I search medical, biological, psychological, philosophical, and religious literature for solutions for patients, I myself do not dwell on the detailed matters raised in those texts; I firmly believe that the great way is simple. As long as one holds fast to one's inner world and reduces desire, problems become simple, and the outside cannot affect us.

Psychologists, wellness gurus, advertisers, marketing experts, and politicians are all helpless with me, for I am not someone they can shake. My happiness is my own, unrelated to others; I need none of the goods, services, or ideas they sell to help me feel good. I share my joy with those I love and who love me, sharing a beautiful life. Beyond that, I feel I need nothing.

Thus I can take pleasure in the simplest life, which makes my happiness easy to obtain. If the cost of obtaining happiness is too high, a person is melancholy most of their life. Only when a spring blade of grass or wild flower, a summer cool breeze, an autumn falling leaf, or a winter snowfall can bring endless delight does a sense of joy fill our hearts at any time.

Disease does not befall a person for no reason. Diseases caused by inherited genes actually account for a very small proportion of all illness, and most are not serious. If we exercise moderately and enrich our minds, living and working in a healthy way every day, we will not easily fall prey to disease; even if we fall ill, symptoms will be mild and resolve quickly.

Healthy, happy people are full of confidence in themselves and life; those who lose health and cannot feel joy easily see everything in gray. Happy people have optimistic expectations for their lives, and outcomes tend to be positive; melancholy people have pessimistic expectations, and outcomes tend to be negative.

The key to preventing disease is to maintain vitality before serious illness strikes, exercise moderately, and let the mind be rich and self-sufficient—happy even without external props. Being close to nature and reading help me do this. My happiness comes more from contact with nature and books than from eating, drinking, and merrymaking with a few friends, so I decline all kinds of banquets. If my closest relatives, teachers, or classmates ask me to share a simple meal at their home or a casual meal out, I gladly accept; any other invitation I consider unnecessary.

Of course, I have beloved people who give me much warmth and joy; merely sharing my thoughts and happiness with them, living under one roof, eating three meals at the same table, and walking together on the road can make me happy. I also have many close teachers, classmates, and friends; I treat them with the gentleman's friendship that is淡 as water—keeping both good fellowship and a safe distance, caring for one another, and lasting long.

I do not pin all my happiness on others, because most of the time I need to be alone. Both "rejoicing alone" and "rejoicing with others" matter, and I question the view that rejoicing alone is inferior to rejoicing with others. When I read a book or write an article, when I sow seeds in the field and watch them sprout, grow, and bear fruit day by day, the joy in my heart is real, and honestly no less than rejoicing with others.

I am skeptical of any authoritative claim and always think for myself; I do not intend to hand my soul over to others to manage, so I am not easily attached to any belief, which makes me live flexibly. Life is always changing; only flexibility lets us adapt to a changing life, and dogmatic submission to authority only causes suffering.

This is freedom from perplexity and freedom from fear. I am neither a sage nor a hero, but I have been fortunate to enter such a clear state in my forties; gratitude to fate for its blessings!