Quiet Joy
Lately I have been beset by all sorts of worldly errands—the college entrance exam, the car-accident lawsuit, the household-registration transfer. Each one alone is enough to keep me busy for a while; taken together, they have kept even someone like me, who ordinarily ignores worldly affairs, delightfully swamped. Happily, there were people to help with everything, and my wife, who has always known how clumsy I am at administrative work, handled a great many odds and ends for me. I managed not to lose my head, and now it is all done.
I had a long, satisfying nap yesterday afternoon, and another today at noon; I feel completely refreshed. From going home to handle the household-transfer paperwork and the gaokao until today, I had not felt this clear-headed for nearly a month. After waking from my midday nap I struck a singing bowl, sat down at my desk, opened those long-unopened medical and biology tomes, and read with relish. Exploring the strange phenomenon of life is just so interesting; I feel that a beautiful life has returned.
Though the lawsuit has not yet been heard, I have worked out how to defend myself and written the defense; though the filling-in of college choices has not begun, I have already looked up the data, thought through how to fill in the choices, and made a list, ready to accept wherever I am admitted; and my family and I have already planned the next few years. I am used to preparing everything in advance and assuming the worst possible outcome. Accept the worst in your heart ahead of time, and when the real result arrives, nothing will feel unacceptable.
For me, all of this is now in the past. The outside world may still be bustling, but my world has returned to peace. I am back to my quiet life of cultivating and reading, able to focus fully on exploring my favorite fields more deeply. No matter where my next step leads, the broad direction of my life will not change, nor will my habits of living and studying. I like a stable and quiet life, and I accept the small upsets that come with it. The storms of life beat on others, and of course on me too; I just emerge from those small upsets as quickly as possible, so they do not disturb my mood or my course.
The flavorful tomatoes I grew this year are delicious—tasting exactly like the tomatoes I ate as a child. They also grew well, with a good yield, so there have been tomatoes to eat every day lately. My demands on life are modest; a bite of such deliciousness is enough for me.
Dissatisfied with the whole family's weight, not long ago I took my child to the nutrition department of a nearby hospital. The nutritionist prescribed no medicine at all, only a dietary advice sheet: in the morning, a glass of milk, an egg, and 100g of staple food; at noon, 200g of staple food, 200–400g of vegetables, and 100g of lean meat; dinner much like lunch; and after dinner a modest amount of fruit, kept under 200g.
We followed it. After a fierce burst of compliance, within a month I myself lost 2.3 kg, and my wife and child each lost weight too. This delighted me no end. Eating this way is cheaper than before, and our living costs have dropped considerably. The vegetables from my small garden are more than enough—originally, after cutting the garden in half this year, I had been a bit sore about it, always thinking of renting back next year the little plot I had given up. Now I have dropped that idea: a family of three doesn't eat that much, and a smaller plot is less work to maintain.
As a typical introvert, my main pleasures lie in the inner world. So the simpler the life, the more it makes me happy. I need to step out of a complicated life and focus on my research. I love reading, thinking, and writing, and love studying and solving the complex problems of the life sciences. This time the major I most want is clinical medicine rather than TCM, because I want to broaden my horizons. In the realm of thought I am a wide-ranging person; the teacher's instructions I received from childhood were to have no partisan biases, to be broadly learned across ancient and modern times, to integrate Chinese and Western traditions, to accumulate deeply and then release powerfully, and to become a master synthesizer. I will never forget that teaching from my mentor.
Before thirty-five I was also fond of debating with the world. After thirty-five I felt such debate was too much of a waste of time; I shifted my focus from the outside to the inside, reclaimed much of my energy, and was able to learn far more efficiently through reading and studying under masters. I once had a good friend on the Tianya forum who gave me four characters: "Narrate, but do not contend." At the time I could not manage it; now, in my forties, I have done it without noticing. Be concise and to the point: the essence of life has never been long-winded. Simply sticking to a few simple principles faithfully is enough to bring great benefit.
A child upstairs is studying music and practices the piano every day. The piano sound carries strongly, and the soundproofing in our building is poor, which leads to constant quarrels in our neighborhood owners' group over his playing. I don't join such WeChat groups, so their quarrels don't affect me—only my wife. If not for her, I wouldn't even know how heated it gets.
Sometimes their quarrels even get the police called, but the officers are helpless; after all, they have no right to interfere with a child's freedom to practice. Poor officers, surrounded by a crowd of middle-aged or elderly aunts and uncles all chattering at once, demanding they dispense a justice that is no easy thing to dispense—what a mess of trivialities they deal with every day! You could give me that big peaked cap and I wouldn't wear it.
My mood is unaffected; I treat the boy's playing as a pleasure, or simply tune it out. Occasionally I enjoy his performance; I feel he is steadily improving, and I am genuinely glad for him. From time to time I take out my own instrument and join in with him—no need to pay for a piano accompanist. Is that not a joy?
Starting tomorrow I plan, as always after work, to spend my days at the National Library. I have two aims: first, to mooch the library's free air-conditioning, and second, to mooch the library's free air-conditioning. It's too hot, and I'm too stingy to spend my own electricity, so mooching the library's free AC has become an entirely justified and high-minded pursuit. My son often says to me: "Dad, we are people with a medium-to-extra-thick skin; why would we care what others think?" Truly he is right—my boy has it exactly.
A beautiful life is just this simple.