What Does It Matter If You Are Not Approved Of?

Once my son wrote an essay in which he said that one thing his father did that moved him greatly was that, after he did poorly on an exam and came home, his father comforted him, saying it was no big deal, that there was no need to take exam scores too seriously, that as long as he was happy it was enough, and that having tried his best at studying was all that mattered. My wife read the essay and told me about it; I found it both a little surprising and not surprising at all.

When I was in first grade, my grades were terrible; I often ranked dead last, sat in the back row, and was always being pranked and bullied by classmates—and always pranking and bullying others too—so I got punished a lot.

A mischievous child like me gave teachers headaches and won no approval from parents, yet I lived innocently, freely, and carefree.

Then, as if guided by some ghost, my grades suddenly soared, and I jumped from dead last to first in the whole school. In junior high, though I was no longer as dazzling as in primary school, I was still a star—outstanding in conduct and grades, and I became president of the student union.

In high school I once again exploded, as if by ghostly decree; at my best I ranked among the top few in the provincial unified exam and became the model student with the big red flower in the framed photo on the school bulletin board.

During my school years I suffered greatly from being number one. If I did worse than someone else on an exam, my whole world turned gray; from a distance, seeing a teacher, I would feel as guilty as a thief and take a detour around them.

Once I did poorly on a chemistry exam. My chemistry teacher actually corrected all the questions I had gotten wrong and then gave me the highest score. Afterward the teacher said to me: "Zhiyuan, what has come over you? You did this badly this time; I was afraid a grade like this would hurt your image, so I corrected all your mistakes."

Hearing this, I was deeply ashamed. When the papers were handed back and the grades announced, I wanted to crawl into a hole in the ground, as though I had stolen something.

My school years had serious psychological problems. Because I had always been excellent, I was always afraid of not being approved, unable to accept even the slightest failure or the smallest misdeed.

But it is just as well; better that psychological troubles come early than late. Having more worries in youth can push a person to think about life earlier; think enough, and you naturally work your way out.

Now when I educate my own son, I no longer do as my parents did. I always tell him not to care so much about being approved, not to treasure his own feathers so much. What if he is not approved of? We do not live to be praised by anyone.

When one cares less about being approved, one no longer suffers just to save face, and it is harder to become arrogant and self-righteous.

When I go back to my hometown for the New Year and see my relatives, warm with wine, all pouring out their hearts, hoping to be understood and approved, I slip far away.

Nowadays, when I am reading and come across an article whose title alone makes obvious that it is seeking approval or self-approval, I cannot finish it. A grown person forever pouring out his heart, or boasting about how meaningful his life is—that is really rather absurd.

What the hell meaning does life have? When we narcissistically admire some meaning of life, if we can suddenly wake up and have the courage to treat that admired meaning as bullshit, how interesting that would be.

For a while I dealt with a group of Buddhists. These Buddhists were full of zeal to save the world, to use their worldview and life view to lead the world, always wanting to brainwash people and draw them toward the Dharma.

To be blunt, this was a group of shallow, ignorant Buddhists. When I debated the Dharma with them, most were left dumbfounded, because my own command of the sutras far exceeded theirs. When they could not win the debate, these followers would throw out: "You are studying but not practicing!"

Encountering this was really funny. I could have retorted: "You are practicing but not living it!" But I did not, because that would have spawned a pile of new arguments and wasted my precious time, which is far too extravagant.

Ever since I realized that chasing approval was a form of self-torture and gave up the pursuit, I have lived much more lightly.

Now, when I study and practice medicine, I no longer seek approval from every patient or family member who consults me. For consulting patients with paranoid personalities, I block them outright, refuse their appointments, and decline to treat them, not caring that such people curse me for my terrible medical ethics. But for patients I am actually treating, I strive to be fully responsible, because after all this is a matter of life and death.

Some people try to moral-kidnap me, and I just sneer. When doctors are killed, who has ever stopped to think about what they endured? I honestly admit that I am, first of all, a selfish person; only when my own safety and peace of mind are assured can I talk about morality.

When my own safety is threatened and my dignity insulted, anyone's moral kidnapping is useless. Why on earth should I, like a fool, risk my life and endure mental torment just to live in others' approval?

Having been praised for half a lifetime, I have come to know that being praised and approved is also a burden. A person comes into this world without consent, which is already unfortunate; more unfortunate is that there are always people brainwashing and remolding us, making us slaves to all kinds of ideas and leaving us exhausted.

It would be better to strip oneself naked and return to an innocent heart; cast away face and substance, leave the inner void with nothing at all, act on impulse, adapt to circumstances, and live as one's true self. Living like this is at least real and light.