Re-Accustoming Myself to Spending Every Day in the Library
I don't know since when life changed its original course; more and more trivial matters needed handling, and time was cut into countless fragments, so my visits to the library grew fewer and fewer. After the pandemic began, the library switched to a reservation system, and the epidemic checkpoints at the entrance were off-putting; for several years I was reluctant to go.
But now everything is gradually returning to normal, and I am re-accustoming myself to spending every day in the library. I concentrate my work in the morning; after finishing the day's work, I ride a shared bike and mosey over to the library, spending half a day there reading, doing exercises, and spacing out. When dusk falls, I walk out of the library and home through Zizhuyuan Park, and the day's reading and exercise are complete. If what I loved were not this life but cockfighting and dog racing, with my easygoing attitude I think I would be a ne'er-do-well.
I plan that, once the weather warms up enough to till soil and plant vegetables, I will go two or three times a week to the foot of Xiangshan to grow vegetables, relax, look at the countryside, and feel the changing seasons. I am a散漫 person who dislikes being constrained; I can't be bothered with professional titles, don't care about status, don't care what others think of me, and treat both slander and praise as wind in my ears, so I have no mental burdens.
I also take a let-nature-take-its-course attitude toward my life goals, walking forward unhurriedly, seeing where I end up. Years ago I signed a body donation consent form, following Liu Ling's attitude that "when I die, just bury me where I fall"; I can accept dying at any time. When the day comes, let people take this stinking hide away, strip off its clothes, soak it in formalin, and display it naked before a group of medical students for dissection, medical teaching, or research, letting this carcass be put to full use. Living a life this way is actually very carefree, but many people dare not do it.
When people are born into this world, no one dictates what status or identity we must have to live; there is no fixed life formula we must follow. If the heart is strong enough, all the external voices can be ignored. Status and identity are more like the cocoon humans spin themselves into, binding them tightly and denying them freedom for a lifetime.
Giving these up lets people live more freely, but too many people are addicted to that little sweetness and cannot bear to let go. If one is too attached to fame, wealth, and lust, it is like licking honey off a knife's edge: there is a sweet taste, but the danger of cutting one's tongue is always present. I did not originate this saying; the Buddha said it first, and I have merely translated it into plain language.
My interpersonal relationships are as simple as can be: no drinking-and-feasting friends, no socializing that costs time and energy. I experienced the worldly bustle in my youth and adolescence and it did not seem very interesting, so I do not miss it now. The only thing worth caring about is the most sincere affection between people, so I love and cherish my relatives and friends as much as I can.
A life arranged this way inevitably leaves more free time than average; looking around, only spending that surplus time in the library suits me best. Staying in the library is warm in winter and cool in summer, costs little, brings peace of mind, and lets me converse with many interesting people through writing without limits of time or space—a comfortable way of life.
Perhaps because I am getting older and cannot be bothered with upheaval, I now dislike a life of constant change and have no high expectations; I only hope to get by with enough food and clothing and live an ordinary life. Great sorrows and great joys consume too much spirit; accepting plainness and enjoying a calm life, doing work I like, and eating my way to the end is not bad. Along the way, if I can occasionally benefit others, that is of course even better.