Because I Am Alive

Don’t refuse to admire a flower’s beauty and fragrance just because it will wither; don’t deny yourself the freshness and comfort of a new home just because it will eventually deteriorate; don’t shy away from deep love with someone dear just because they might someday depart; and don’t fail to live wholeheartedly—grasping happiness with full awareness—just because life must ultimately end.

People pay great attention to spatial transitions, yet often forget the accumulation of time. A new garment becomes old—its spatial transformation renders it worthless—but time’s quiet sedimentation bestows upon it its most precious existence. The meaning of life does not lie in its ultimate outcome—the end, death—but in its cause—the living itself.

Emotions throughout life are inherently impermanent and ever-changing. Heaven and earth regulate all things through shifting weather—sunshine and clouds, wind and rain; humans harmonize their inner states and feelings through joy, anger, sorrow, and delight. If heaven and earth knew only sunshine, drought would prevail; if only rain, floods would follow—both extremes hinder growth. Likewise, human emotion follows the same principle: excessive joy dulls our capacity to recognize joy; overwhelming sorrow blunts our sense of sorrow—hence joy and sorrow alternate. Such natural regulation among heaven, earth, and humanity exists for survival—not for death. In life’s journey, both sorrow and joy are transient. We cannot escape them, nor should we become lost in them. Nor should we assume that current sorrow defines all of life—or that present joy guarantees perpetual happiness. When joyful, be fully present in joy; when sorrowful, be fully present in sorrow—follow your heart, follow your nature.

Last night, I had drinks with a client friend from Shenyang. Because the CEO attended, I felt much more relaxed, and the atmosphere at the table was warm and pleasant. Though I have low alcohol tolerance, I gently drifted into tipsiness. After seeing them off in their car, I turned around alone—and suddenly felt an unprecedented, inexplicable wave of profound distress.

Back at my residence, I opened the door: the living room stood empty, the bedroom empty—and so did my heart. I sank into the sofa, closed my eyes… How I longed for someone to be here—to hold me, to talk with me. Nietzsche went mad, wanting to embrace everyone—because of loneliness! In truth, each of us is but a reed: resilient yet fragile. Then, unexpectedly, I laughed—asking myself: Why do people swing so swiftly between joy and sorrow? Why, knowing how unbearable loneliness feels, do we still cling to it so stubbornly?

A colleague said: ‘Reading your journal, I sense your sorrow.’ A friend said: ‘Reading your journal, I sense your joy!’ Yet all I feel is simply being alive—living with full awareness…