Part Twelve: Some Thoughts on "Crossing the River"

I accidentally discovered a small river flowing gently in the residential area near the snack street I often visit. Many residents nearby bring their children to play in the river, and today I happened to be wearing flip-flops, so I also went into the water to experience a bit of childhood.

The deepest part of the river was not over my knees. Standing on the stones at the riverbed, I occasionally felt a slippery sensation, which the people around me said was caused by moss. I initially planned to wade in the river for a while and then get out, but I noticed a stone path that looked like a bridge faintly appearing in the water. If it weren't for the slightly deeper water over there, it would have been really hard to spot.

Walking a few steps on the stone path, the river water brushing against my calves actually intensified the slippery feeling under my feet. Perhaps it was also because my new flip-flops didn't fit well, I found it somewhat strenuous and could only keep my head down, closely watching the path in front of my feet to avoid slipping. Suddenly, a phrase popped into my mind: "Crossing the river by feeling the stones."

When arriving in an unfamiliar place or trying a new industry, although there are some experiences from predecessors to draw on, how to navigate still depends on oneself. Taking this river as an example, I felt that the depth not exceeding my knees was already somewhat unstable, and some children had reached waist-deep. If the current were a bit stronger, it would be very dangerous for them. Meanwhile, parents were just sitting in small groups by the riverbank chatting, at most dipping their feet in the water, watching their children from a distance, occasionally calling out to remind them to pay attention to safety. In an instant, I felt that the experiences of predecessors were very much like "hearsay."

I squatted down to take pictures of the river, initially wanting to capture the tall buildings on both sides, but gave up because the composition didn't look good, which made me feel even more that "one must walk their own path." The stone path wasn't long, but I was worried about falling, and it took me more than ten minutes to reach the opposite bank. During this time, I rarely looked up to see the distance, focusing instead on carefully taking each step.

Looking back at my previous growth experiences, I used to enjoy reading biographies of famous people and historical books. While I was moved by the ups and downs of others' fates, I also pondered whether I could be as outstanding as they were if I were in their shoes, or whether I could carve out a different world. However, history is written by people, and what often gets passed down are the cases of the successful. As an obscure person like me, I can only be destined to be submerged in the long river of history.

If that's the case, why must one imitate others' lives?

Reflecting on my inner struggle about buying a car during this time, the friends I consulted roughly divided into two camps: one camp told me it was a money-consuming and tiring endeavor, not worth it; the other camp told me it could broaden my life radius. My point of confusion also stemmed from this. Former colleagues who have lived in the city for years, facing the traffic jams during peak hours in Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, and Shenzhen, many feel that driving is not as convenient as taking the subway or bus. Friends who are freelancers and love to travel pursue the thrill of being able to leave at any moment and enjoy the freedom of going solo. Which type of person do I lean towards?

I have done seemingly high-end white-collar jobs in office buildings; I have also been a freelancer who writes wherever I go with my laptop. If I had to choose, I would say I like the high salary of white-collar jobs and the freedom of writing wherever I go; but I dislike the constraints of white-collar work and the unstable income of freelancing. Is there really such a thing as having both fish and bear's paw? If there is, it is only in the eyes of others; the hardships behind it are known only to oneself.

I never thought of myself as a lucky person, but I do consider myself somewhat fortunate. But it also depends on who I compare myself to.

I have imagined that if I plan to buy a car, should I start with a minimalist lifestyle? But I also wonder, why not increase income and cut expenses? Money is never saved; it is earned. How to make myself valuable should be the question I consider more. What kind of life do I really want? These questions are like "crossing the river by feeling the stones," and I can only explore and experience them myself. Others' experiences are merely based on their own needs.

Still struggling, and every time I can't just leave, the struggle intensifies.

Finally reaching the opposite bank, I looked at the stone path I had crossed, and it didn't seem that difficult. Although standing further away allowed me to see the fine moss on the stones more clearly, I was also grateful that some patches of moss didn't cause me to slip. But isn't it because I couldn't see clearly that I had the courage to move forward? What's the worst that could happen, just a fall? So what?

Whenever I feel down, I often comfort myself by saying, "Don't look back at the path you've walked; otherwise, it will weigh down your next steps." But I still look back, reminiscing about those "pits" I once fell into. Why? Is it because the current me lacks the courage I had back then? I think so; one downside of growing up is knowing fear. Sometimes this fear is not maturity and steadiness, but rather stubbornness and greasiness. Thinking this way, I don't like the current version of myself. But do I like the past version of myself?

I have thought countless times that if time could return to a certain past, I would definitely do this and that. But if time could really go back, can I guarantee that I wouldn't make the same choices with my experiences at that time? Thus, there is indeed a "moonlight treasure box" in this world; it's just that we ourselves have given up the opportunity to start over.

One benefit of growing up is not believing in promises. If it can be done, why "draw a pie"? I remember Karen Mok sang a line in "Fruits of Midsummer": "Promises are just uncertain." So, I don't want to "ask for advice" anymore; I want to trust my intuition. Perhaps the next time my desire to buy a car reaches its peak, I will decisively place an order. Then, to bear the subsequent costs, I might make myself work a bit harder. But I also fantasize that after expanding my life radius, more unexpected "opportunities" will arise. In life, one should be a bit more optimistic.

There is a nice tea house by the river where I can take a break and dry my feet while watching the children still playing in the river from a distance. For a moment, I envied their carefree innocence, not worrying about the world. But I don't want to give them any blessings; each person must bear their own fate, and blessings are merely blessings. Moreover, what use are the blessings of strangers?

Alright, I will try hard not to reminisce about my childhood. Nor will I dwell on those unfulfilled desires. In short, feeling good today is enough.

I always say that I like water; being close to water makes me inexplicably at ease. This feeling of being healed is truly wonderful!

I remember Rodin once said, "In life, it is not that there is a lack of beauty, but a lack of eyes to discover beauty." I think this is the perfect ending!

So be it, while my mood is still good, I will rest early, hoping to have a good dream.

The End