The More You Possess, the Heavier the Burden, and the More Wearisome the Life

Human beings, living on earth, out of fear of the future always feel that the more they possess, the more secure they are. But in reality, beyond a certain point, the more one possesses, the heavier the burden and the more wearisome the life.

I have personal experience of this. Once I had nothing, and I did struggle to survive; my present personal reputation and social standing can be called the harvest of my hard struggle. But these have not brought me more happiness; instead, my life burden has grown heavier and my existence more toilsome.

The Caigentan (Vegetable Root Discourse) says: only after dwelling in lowliness does one know the danger of climbing high; only after abiding in obscurity does one know that leaning toward the bright is too dazzling; only after keeping still does one know that loving motion is overexertion; only after cultivating silence does one know that much speech is restlessness. Only by dwelling in all sorts of circumstances and comparing them can a person know what state of life suits them best.

Chinese people often say the capable are burdened, and this idiom has fooled many people into overexertion. Sometimes I feel I am in an overexerted state, yet people still compliment me to be even more capable and burdened. I no longer fall for this; my own physical and mental health matter too, and it is better to wear fewer tall hats.

From time to time I quiet myself and reflect on whether my burden is too heavy, to the point of affecting my physical and mental health. If, at a certain stage, I feel overburdened, I find ways to lighten the load. To be honest, in middle age the body is on the downhill slope and cannot take much more tossing.

Buddhism advocates cutting off love and abandoning desire. I once longed for this kind of life, but after actually trying it I found it pure nonsense. After completely cutting off desire and love, life falls into barren stillness, leaving only one thing: constantly singing the praises of the life one has chosen, while recruiting others to live it too, until one becomes a religious enthusiast bent on proselytizing. I admire the devotion of religious believers to their cause, but I am not so fond of their proselytizing life myself.

When I was younger and my capacity was small, I often imagined myself in positions of power. At that time, seeing people who had already achieved success made me very envious; I thought I too could have done great things, if only I were the one in power.

After middle age I began to have some power. Though not much, my social standing is not low. I have the power to treat patients as I please, and I have many followers in the world of TCM. At first I did enjoy it; later I found I was living a far more stressful and burdened life than before I had power. There are always patients who, because of my mistakes, could not be cured by me. Whenever I see their disappointed eyes, I feel extremely bad.

Those who are not medical workers may feel that medical power is limited. But in fact, the life-and-death responsibility shouldered by a doctor can be crushing. In the eyes of many desperate patients, a doctor is a figure on whom they pin their last hope. If I can treat them, they have hope; if I cannot, they may have no hope left.

We all know the story of the young people who went to America. So long as one still wants to climb upward, one can always find new targets of envy. At the very moment one looks up, one looks down on oneself, creating a vicious cycle.

Young people have no foothold, so they must struggle hard to find one. People with a foothold should cherish it, keep their head down and cultivate, and avoid envying the powerful and privileged of this world. Those above have the suffering of those above; once you attain power, you yourself may not live as happily as you think.

I used to like to associate with famous people and seniors; now I avoid them. Because every time I meet them I cannot help comparing myself with them, and after returning home I feel depressed for several days, as if I were an utter failure. Once I realized this, I gradually withdrew from the social circle of people of higher standing.

After withdrawing, my mental state improved greatly. I have come to realize that after reaching middle age, one should choose one own lifestyle and not simply imitate successful people.

When not associating with those above, I naturally began making friends with people below. Now I am particularly fond of making friends with doctors just starting out. Being around them, I can feel the vigor of youth, and they also like to talk with me about medicine and life. After spending a few days with these young people, I feel I myself am a bit younger.

My greatest wish now is to live an ordinary life, eating my three meals a day and sleeping my eight hours at night, with nothing to worry my mind. But in actual fact, a doctor ordinary life is hard to have. Many patients feel it is easiest to get an answer from me online, so they keep pestering me. My daily WeChat and Twitter messages number in the thousands. There is no way I can keep up with all of them; I end up feeling exhausted.

If a patient I have treated comes asking, I should help them; even if the question seems foolish, I can bear it. But there are always people who, having never consulted me at all, rush up and ask all sorts of questions. Some even expect a free diagnosis, as if I were their private doctor.

If I were to help everyone, I would have no time left for my own life. So I increasingly have to ignore them. But ignoring people makes me anxious, and I have to tell myself to calm down.

I used to worry, because I was well known, that people would call me arrogant and unapproachable. Now I do not care. Everyone has their own priorities; I should first be responsible to myself and my family. If I cannot even guarantee my own health and sleep, then I have nothing to offer to anyone else.