I never really celebrated my birthday. It always served as a disappointment – as any sense of temporary happiness seems to fade away – than a day for celebration.
But I remember when I was around 10 years old, it was my birthday, and I was attending Orchestra practice after school. I guess I was particularly happy that day, so I talked and laughed more than usual – it eventually got so obnoxious than one of the conductors said, “What is going on today? Why are you so happy?” And my other classmates rolled their eyes as they laughed and said, “it’s his birthday.” She laughed. And then proceeded to walk to the piano and started playing a happy birthday song. When she finished, she walked back and looked me in the eyes, with a smile, and said, “Happy Birthday.”
That was probably the best present I’ve ever received.
******
I read this powerful line from Norm’s novel once that struck with me. The line was something like, “That’s when I understood it takes a powerful imagination to see something for what it really is.” Norm was referring to the banality of life – and how almost any human activity, including his gambling addiction, is designed to distract ourselves from the realities of life.
When I look back at my short life so far, I really haven’t achieved anything. I can pretend – as I do almost all the time – that I lived an exciting life so far and tried my best. But doing so means falling prey to the inauthentic nature which memories are. When I look back at my high school and college experience, a time period which should be labelled the most exciting time of a long life, I must regrettably admit, it wasn’t.
It is not the lack of stories that I’m reflecting on – nor the lack of partying or dumb teenage tomfoolery that Alex would refer to – it is the regret that I’ve used my time on activities that I knew I shouldn’t but still did. The opportunity cost of time that should’ve been spent on things that I knew would compound and benefit myself as well as others, but for whatever reason, I chose not to and did something else. It was the time and energy that I spent playing a character that was not myself and uttering words in order to conform – it was, above all else, my lack of courage to speak my mind and choose my path.
I have betrayed myself for nothing.
22 serves as an important birthday for most. It is perhaps the age in which all the graduates must answer the most provoking question of all, “What do you want to do with your life?” This notion of freedom – though may deceptively seem exciting – is, for most, too much freedom to bare. Most of us will be paralyzed by true freedom. Instead, we prefer the windows between conventions to discharge our duties and bask in irresponsibility – the lunch breaks during our jobs, the gap year before needing to go to school or taking a job. The weekend connecting this miserable week and the next – that walk after school to KFC before heading home and the summer before attending college. Freedom? No. Give me both security and irresponsibility. Like children, we want the freedom to make a mess and not bear the consequences.
Instead, tell me what to do.
When I look at myself – truly looking at it, for what I really am – I see a rock. A rock carrying too many rough edges and would hurt if you tried palming it in your hand. And if I squeezed too tight I would drop myself without ever trying again – a common.
When’s the last time you took a new step? Uttered a new word? Hell, when’s the last time I did those things? When’s the last time I failed at something – I can’t even remember, because I haven’t even tried. When’s the last time that I truly inspected myself, looked at the edges that needed to be softened, and ask, “What is the one thing out there that can fix this? A reluctant, irritating experience that may be so uncomfortable and painful but I know can work as sandpaper and wisdom. An experience that by itself with its noble cause and freedom attached, that even the thought of it would serve so exciting that I would not mind living it innumerable times more.
Your worst sin, my dear friend, is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.
A miserable picture, right? But this is where the fun begins – because happiness and unhappiness, suffering and bliss, booms and busts, they are like twins, brothers and sisters, different sides of the same coin. Like the roots of a Sequoia, which runs as deep as it stands, there is no appreciation of peace without a chaos within. There is no meaning without the banal and there is no happiness without suffering.
So, what is my answer to the cynic? My answer is the tritest tale of time: beauty and love – an almost obnoxious, overwhelming, and relentless type of love. In its truest form, the love for life, oneself, and in others. The type of love you hear at the dinner table through uncontrollable laughter at the most trivial and stupidest things – the type of love that would possess you through any realities until it’s labelled a form of truth; yes. That type of love, that type of love…will save the world.
******
Anyways, where was I? Oh yes, good ol’ stories. Well, let me tell you some other stories.
When I was in my senior year in high school, I was incredibly lazy and only went to one tutor. And to my surprise, it was a Spanish tutor. We had to take an extra language on top of English and the choice was between Chinese A and Spanish ab initio. Although Chinese A was the sensible choice, my reputation among the Chinese teachers have become so terrible that all of them urged me to enemy territory. I thought 14 years of bothering them was enough, so I complied and went under the wing of an incredibly gay Portuguese teacher which I now regret.
Anyways, I sucked at Spanish. So, I started seeing this Chinese lady right before my final exams hoping for some last-minute miracles. She was around in her mid-thirties. She didn’t have an intimidating presence as she was short and easygoing. But, from the casual conversations I’ve had with her it was immediately clear that she was incredibly intelligent. In her early days, she was part of this group of university graduates who received a scholarship from the Chinese government to study abroad. She went to Cuba. And ever since being back, she has been teaching.
However, she did not enjoy her job. Every time we would chat during breaks, she would confess how she felt she was in a rut in her life. She told me what she potentially wanted to do was to take the Chinese public servant exam so she could go into government. This path is notoriously hard in China, and for a woman in her late thirties, she was worried it was too late and her efforts would yield to nothing. But as I said, she was smart, and she started taking these entrance exams and passing them while working and tutoring. Every time we met, sometime during the hour, she would hold a textbook with both hands close to her stomach, and display a blank stare, saying, “What should I do?” And for a few weeks in a row, I would display one of the perils of youth, and convince her to just follow her heart and pull the trigger. And every time, she would listen to all of it, and say, “I know…”
I never kept in touch with her. I hope she’s doing well.
******
After a long day, I only have enough energy to write about one last thing.
As I sit here, on the evening of my 22nd, I can’t help but feel immensely grateful for all the experiences that God has put me through. I really mean this in the truest sense. Even the seemingly negative things or cards I’ve been dealt, I truly am grateful for all of them. No one ever receives a perfect hand and yet I received an amazing one – I have met some of the most wonderful people and have the incredible privilege to befriend them. I have been given enough privilege in my life to travel across oceans at a young age and speak a fluent second language. I have been given an introspective mind that allows me to write authentically and have a voice – and I have been given a blessed childhood that allowed me to become my own man and think for myself.
Above all, God has instilled in me a childish innocence – and has never erased that young boy in me – that allows me to still have that childlike curiosity towards life and meaning. And has given me a chance to explore life and answer those questions that were raised since my beginning.
Finally, behind all of the words and syntax, there is still a warmth inside of me – an everlasting furnace of love towards the goodness of life and the laughter of joy. I’ve had dinner with my parents earlier tonight and in a rare occasion I admitted, “I really don’t know if I can pinpoint a time in my life where I have been happy.” And that is true – I don’t think I understand happiness. But I do have love towards it all. To myself. To my relationships. To both the banal and the funny; I know for certain that means something. That is something. And because of that love, I will never, ever, be a cynic.
This piece is dedicated to myself – for both a young Yang and the future Alistair – I hope your future journey will be filled with more pain and suffering; and I hope you will use those experiences to sharpen yourself to become an ever better person filled with more love towards the world.
And when that happens, I hope you will find even more ways to give back to the world that has given you so much.
Yours sincerely,
Yang
Written in Hong Kong on October 28th, 2024.
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