The More You Subtract, the Lighter You Feel
Possession, grasping, and aversion to work bring not joy but emptiness. This emptiness cannot be filled by seeking pleasure in the moment; immediate gratification only makes the empty person emptier, and the pursuit of instant satisfaction breeds nihilism. Conversely, sincerity, kindness, dedication, diligence, frugality, tolerance, and endurance fill a person with security and happiness while also earning adequate interpersonal support. Those accustomed to few desires and modest demands are easily satisfied throughout life. The more easily satisfied a person is, the happier he is, and the more long-lasting and stable emotional support he gains.
I am still subtracting from my life, and I am gratified to see that my son is beginning to show much the same traits. He pays little attention to the outside world and focuses more on the mathematics he loves. He has no possessiveness toward wealth; since junior high he has told me that if I leave him an inheritance, he will donate it all to society and support himself. In his first month of college he already began actively working-study, and when I was ill he would take the initiative to care for and look after me.
Seeing his conduct fills me with joy. Such a child truly needs no parental worry, no large inheritance; he can derive enough joy from his own life. What gratifies me even more is that when his expectations are not met, he can quickly adjust his mood, smoothly pass through his low periods, and return to a state of happy striving. This adaptability puts me more at ease about him; if such a child wishes to marry in future, he will likely lack no good partner, for there are always women willing to choose someone with a fine character. So I have no worries about his future.
I had originally planned to stop charging patients after age fifty-five. Now, seeing how undemanding my child is, I have gradually moved to letting patients pay voluntarily, and I no longer charge any patient who feels unable to afford it. Perhaps after fifty-five I will stop charging all patients altogether; any voluntary payments from families that are reasonably well-off I will most likely also give away to help impoverished patients. Being too obsessed with possession only impoverishes one's inner world.
My wife has her own job, with a salary enough to support herself. Over the next ten years, my child's schooling may still need some financial support, and during that period I will charge modestly. Once his studies end, I need no longer bear his education costs; he should support himself. I myself will need little money in my remaining years, so I think after 55 I can gradually realize my ideal: treat patients on a voluntary-payment basis, earning a small living allowance to get by, and immerse myself in the joy of medical research. That will be enough; I ask for no more.
I have no plans to retire either. Having studied medicine, read more and more books, and opened one door after another to disease, what I see are vast, suffering populations of patients, all in need of help. I feel deep sympathy for these patients, and helping them is what eases me. I think my modest skills will find use for the rest of my life, so I will keep working to the end. Though I have only an ant's strength, too little to save the world, and only a firefly's light, too weak to illuminate every patient, this modest skill can always help a few people release their physical and mental suffering.
The Buddha said that what clouds people's minds is love and desire. In the past I was clouded by love and desire; although I myself had grown used to an extremely simple life with almost no spending, I still worried about too many close people and wanted to take good care of them. Now I have gradually come to see that everyone's joy and happiness lie in their own hands. If joy and happiness must be achieved through others, those people will never grow. In fact, such external joy and happiness cannot last; they only leave a person inwardly insecure, forever anxious about gain and loss. The elders in my family have lived even more frugally than I, so the burden of supporting them is not heavy. Thus I need not carry a great burden, nor ask too much of society.
Once I saw this clearly, I instantly felt lightened. My son and I are both people who can persist long-term toward an ideal without being obsessive about it; there is no pressure to achieve great success. Academic achievements, if they come, come; if not, we do not care. We do not mind the gaze of others, only whether we ourselves are interested in something. We do not believe our life's meaning must be realized in the applause of others; being happy ourselves matters more than anything.
The less we ask of the outside world, the fewer our worries and the greater our spiritual freedom. Whether it is wealth, friendship, or affection, I follow the principle of letting nature take its course: cherish it when it is present, do not demand it when it is absent, and focus on self-fulfillment. Live neither humbly nor arrogantly, looking up to no one and looking down on no one, controlling no one and controlled by no one.
This way of living may not suit everyone, but I like it, because it is not exhausting. The world is vast; there are always people who share our worldview and philosophy of life, willing to draw close to us, to accompany and warm one another. To live life this way is enough.