Today is the final day of my year 2.
This is one of the most fruitful years I have ever come across. I have witnessed the death of an acquainted one, worked in a prestigious company, worked hard and gained agreeable result, attempted competitions and got recognized, met reliable friends and read a lot of books that I please.
All of them mean so much to me. But among all, there are a few I wish to add some words so I will never forget these events.
My grandpa passed away this year. I have never been a close grandson to him. But still, I can still recall the last time I saw him.
It was a hot Saturday. Cars were drifting outside the hospital, not carrying patients, but just drifting. I was told that my grandpa had about only 2 months left that he wanted to see me so much. We entered the hospital. It was quiet and still that I could even hear the squeaky sounds caused by some old beds. The pace of time was quite different from outside. The slowness was heavy. Behind the door, it was a brightly lit room, and there lied my grandpa. He raised his eyebrows when he saw me.
To him, I was a different person. I grew and changed so much that he could barely recognize me. We both forgot when the last time we met was. In my memory, my grandpa served in the military and he was a typical military man. He had a loud voice and a passionate persona. He liked drinking, gambling and making jokes. To him, I was a little quiet boy who just dares to follow my mom and dad and utter no voice. But what we saw were different. He was an exhausted, worn-out patient lying on bed, and I looked much more mature.
My grandpa kept looking at me and tried even not to blink. He knew this may well be the last time he could see me. He asked me to walk closer and held my hand very tightly as if it was a rope hanging over a cliff. His eyes were red and I can see tears running inside. He drew a breath and told me he was so happy to see me and found that I grew more mature. Maybe it is one of human’s gifts that we can understand what others feel. I felt, underneath his words, there were regrets and sadness; he was so sad that he may not be able to see me anymore.
His hands were very dry, probably due to the effects of his cancer medicine. However, the wrinkles on his face didn’t erase his benevolence from me. I wanted to tell him although I was not a close grandson to him; I have always found him friendly and respectable. Owing to the tension in the air, I did not articulate my mind. I, instead, looked at him in his eyes and tried to tell him. 2 months later, he passed away. My uncle told me that, during the very last syllable of his life was played, he was unable to breath and certified death after 2 hours of operation.
Losing an important relative’s feeling is the same as the emptiness that looms after a blissful night. The difference is, your relative is gone forever.
My job in the bank is a tough one, but it made me a better man. There were elites from top universities around the world and there were very rich people. Most of them worked to their fullest capacity to keep the wheels of the bank turning. They know themselves are of zero value to the bank. Their boss can fire them and find a better replacement in one day. The only reason that drives them to work is life itself. Only through suffering can they find their own existence and taste the sweets of joy. There is no such thing as “I can no longer stand” in there. Everyone is expected to be doing things best. After the fall of Lehman, people came and left. The worries and frustrations on their faces can be felt easily. Maybe that is because to some of them this is the biggest failure and crash in their life so far.
Today’s exam is a smooth one. After I left the centre, I felt empty. It is as if going up the stairways from your room in the darkness and to think that there is one more step of what it really hasn’t. Your foot is going for the air and there is a moment of surprise. The moment is prolonged. This year is a joyful one. But it ended, despite everything, it ended. The next year is going to be a tough one. Since I will have to start hunting jobs, work even harder and probably face more pressure. Still, as my best friend told me, the main purpose of life is to suffer. There is no reason that I should be spared. Life goes on.

Mirror

My best friend Bill told me that he felt himself a stranger when he looked in the mirror the other day. Have any of you, dear reader, had this strange feeling? What do you see when you look in the mirror? Are you proud of your own beauty or do you feel self-pity of your appearance? Is fear aroused in you when you look in the mirror as you age? Have you ever endeavoured to see through your own eyes so you can directly interact with your soul? Mirror, as an object which evokes our self-awareness, inspires and delights us. It provokes our enquiry of the limit of self-understanding.

Have you ever tried to glanced beyond the stars to imagine what it is like? Have you ever taken your time out to appreciate the scenery of the sky that was lit up by the splendour of the moon and twinkling little stars? Are you in awe of the splendid beauty of it? I hope you are. A comet travels across the sky. Is it beyond our ability capture it or our ability to slow down is already conquered by the virtue of readiness? A mirror produces the same effect within us. Only when we look into a mirror, we realise that time always quietly slips away. It renders us the habit of contemplation of life. After all these years, in retrospect, what do you actually learn? Do you learn to avoid mistakes and mend your characters through experience or do you just keep repeating the same mistakes and confirming your own prejudices? Are you now able to penetrate through your soul to understand who you really are? Unfortunately, humans are prejudiced. We are naturally egocentric. We always overestimate ourselves because we cannot be completely unbiased of ourselves. That is why we come to depend upon our friends, our family, and romantic partners. However, this is not perfect. They are biased too. They cannot sympathise the melancholy within you. They cannot dig up your loneliest loneliness which is concentrated upon your individual soul day and night. There is always your unconscious self concealed from the world which only at times talks to you.

Sometimes I ponder upon the thought whether keeping a psychological distance from others is more desirable. Certain aspects of my personality has to be kept mysterious forever so as to make myself an interesting person. If this is true, how can we understand ourselves? Should we just let our arrogance preside over our reason or is it a paradox that is destined not to be solved? Should reality always be cruel to taunt us with our innate inability to fathom our soul?

Nevertheless, I have learnt one thing. Suffering makes my life fruitful. It makes me conscious of my own self. Through the experience of the deepest pessimistic moods, I find self-realisation. I should not only enjoy what friendship, parental affection, romantic love, and compassion has to offer in a good life, but I should also appreciate the darkest despair, the spectacle of melancholy, the wickedness of contempt, and the fear of frustration. Only through these things, we are to enjoy the greatest things that life has to offer. We must not long for perfection. We need to understand that perfection can only be secured through imperfection. We should not appreciate the beauty of a full moon, but we should be able to perceive the beauty of a moon partially covered with clouds. We should not be in awe of the beauty of flower blossom, but we should be deeply moved to tears by the beauty when flowers wither. We do not admire the beauty of green leaves in spring, but we should appreciate the beauty of loneliness of the leaves falling in autumn. Because this is what life is all about. A perfect life breeds boredom. A life with defects makes us interesting so we can strive towards our goals and dreams. This view is perhaps unduly pessimistic but it takes us a step further to understanding ourselves. We are not perfect. Everyone makes mistakes. Defects in our characters render us the longing of perfection. Therefore, let us rejoice the beauty of loneliness and grievance. However sad it is, if we look closer, we will find that it is not only sad, but it is sadly beautiful. Our purpose of life is not to despise sadness, but on the contrary, we make it a work of art.

W