People Who Live in Their Own World
There is a class of people in this world who live inside their own world. I am one of them, and because of powerful inherited genes, my son is one of them too.Over the last year or two, my son has gradually found a direction he is interested in and willing to devote his life to, and because of this, some changes have come over him. Once he said to his mother that he had noticed he was growing more and more like me, his father; he felt that in both character and values he was becoming like me. Sometimes, when he could not work something out with his mother, he would say to her: "My father will surely understand me." I am grateful that my child trusts me to understand him at a deep level of the soul; such trust frees me from worrying that he is lonely in spirit.We are people who are not easily understood by others, but fortunately there do exist people in the world who can understand people like us—people of our own kind. I feel that the most important thing I, as a father, should do next is to send my child into an environment where there are many people like him, so that he can make friends or a life partner there with whom he may connect or love for a lifetime. I cannot accompany him for his whole life; he should have his own soulmate and companions. Such confidants need not be many—one or two are enough.We both love a solitary life, love studying problems we are drawn to, and immerse ourselves in them, forgetting all care, feeling almost nothing of the outside world. In popular terms, we are typical homebodies. This kind of person is well suited to academic research.If my son, in future, has the kind of freedom I have now—able to be entirely independent of any organization or institution, dealing only with endless professional problems—I will feel very much at peace about his life, because I know that in that way he will be happy, untroubled by any interpersonal disputes or rivalries, and that his life will be purely idealistic. Though we cannot hope for an ideal society, we can possess an ideal self.I almost never worry about his future income or livelihood, and he has never thought about them either. Because, like countless other external things, these matter not at all to us. It is not only my son who is influenced by this outlook on life; two other students I teach have, more or less, been influenced by me. After years of words and example, my shadow has fallen upon them. Yesterday one student's parent told us that in a school essay, the child wrote about me, his TCM teacher. I hope all three of them will be happy in future; whatever career they pursue and whoever they meet, I hope they can, like me, single-mindedly lead a life that others may find dull, but that we ourselves find endlessly rewarding.On the high school entrance exam, my son entered a key Beijing high school with the lowest score on the cutoff line. To be not very modest about it, given his personal potential, he could have gotten into any high school in Beijing; he simply loved playing too much in middle school, so his entrance result was poor. My approach to his upbringing was nearly laissez-faire; I signed him up for no training classes and, watching him lose himself in play, rarely interfered, only telling him again and again that he could grow into an outstanding person. Because I knew he needed to mature on his own before he could stop losing himself in play, and to mature he needed some setback—needed his entrance-exam result to slap him in the face.I went through the same thing myself. In middle school I was so addicted to fishing that I would spend whole days by the river without eating—but after entering the second year of high school I gave it up almost entirely, and even now fishing no longer stirs my interest. Now, studying medicine, I am just as single-minded. In truth, I am still the same person; only, as I have grown older, the focus of my attention has shifted from childhood play to medical research today.I think being addicted and being focused are almost the same thing. There are people in this world who are deeply devoted; when they like a thing or a person, they can throw their whole energy into it. Buddhists often speak of greed, anger, and folly, but Buddhists have their own folly—they are devoted to the dharma. Human nature originally carries a touch of obsession; it is only as our society has developed, demanding ever greater socialization, that so many people have come to think that being too devoted is not a good thing. But in my view, there is nothing wrong with people who are devoted to a thing and enjoy it.On his first midterm after starting high school, my son rose from bottom of the entering class to near the top—in fact, on the six subjects he had chosen for the college entrance exam, his total was first. His demands on himself are no longer as loose as in middle school, and he has begun to take a keen interest in relativity, a theory still far too advanced for him. This almost exactly repeats my own growth trajectory in school; I only hope that in his study and growth he will be a little happier than I was, and not bear the unnecessary psychological pressure I bore.I myself had to interrupt my own calling for nearly ten years—not because I lost interest in what I loved, but because my family's finances were too poor. My father could not support the education I wanted; I had to earn my own living and make enough money to support my medical studies. But for my son that problem no longer exists; I can support whatever education he wants.On the whole, I am very satisfied with my life; I consider myself happy. Just as Bertrand Russell said that finding mathematics was like finding his own paradise and curing his depression, I found medicine and found my own paradise. My son, like Russell, loves mathematics. I hope he may spend his whole life roaming in the mathematical world he loves, not caring about anything else.People like us who live in our own world do not need much that is external. Material things and honors may matter to others, but to us they do not. And I have always firmly believed that people immersed in the learning they love can solve the problem of survival quite easily—for only such people can go deep into a professional field and become senior specialists. Even if their IQ is not the very highest, as long as they have sufficient interest and perseverance they can still become excellent experts. In a highly specialized society, senior specialists need not worry about survival. Wealth has limited influence on life's happiness. Some people are already very happy once they have enough food and clothing; others with fortunes still lack security and happiness. My beloved teacher taught me that happiness has only to do with the feeling of happiness, and nothing to do with external, tangible things.People who live in their own world have a childlike heart. My wife said that the night before last, talking in my sleep (at home I am always the first to sleep, so my family often overhears me), I said: "I have absolutely no problem with arithmetic under ten thousand; 9999 divided by 3333 equals 3." Hearing myself utter such childish and humorous somniloquy, I laughed out loud. Being a little naive is no bad thing.I often hear people say that those who like to be on their own have low EQ. I personally do not agree. As someone long accustomed to being alone, I admit not everyone likes me, and many people even dislike me. But whether my EQ is low depends on how EQ is defined.I do not think my EQ is low, because my feelings are rich, I can care deeply for those I love, and those who love me love me dearly; I have always been happy. In my view, this ought to be the life experience of someone whose EQ has reached the highest level. We need not please others to prove ourselves; we are already fully satisfied in our own lives. We need not rely on any external things to feel secure; simply from having confidence and contentment, we already feel no fear. If this is not a high EQ, then I fail to see any value in EQ at all. Surely the whole point of EQ is to let people live happily?A colleague of my wife, who has known our family for nearly twenty years and is about to retire, said to my wife in a recent chat: "Your husband really is an extraordinary man." I am no longer surprised when people conclude this about me. In my own eyes I am utterly ordinary, yet many people I have met in my life have called me an extraordinary man. I suppose what they mean by "extraordinary" is someone not assimilated by society, with a strong personality. In China, anyone who holds to himself and refuses to follow the crowd may be seen as extraordinary; that is not surprising. In truth, we are simply people who live in our own world, who dislike disturbing others and dislike being disturbed—nothing more.