As I start this latest set of meandering musings I find myself back, if only just, in a very wet England. This, as yet, is second-hand knowledge rather than directly experienced. For now, my first act on entering this literally benighted land was to head over to the Caffe Nero in Terminal 2 at Heathrow and treat myself to a large and thoroughly pleasant Americano. I have a soft spot for Nero's, the coffee is excellent and the décor much to my taste – old, tatty, sunken armchairs and sofas, ideal for cogitating whilst one waits, flaneur style, for the hubbub of the evening rush hour to die down before embracing the delights of London's antiquated underground system.
After this particular flight, it is with some relief that I take my seat and sip my coffee. Not only was it an incredibly long eleven hour flight (mostly spent reading and chatting as there was not an offering of note on the 'entertainment' system), but it finished in fine style with the aircraft being heavily buffeted by some very strong winds on the descent followed by visits to both sides of the runway as it slewed and skidded quite alarmingly on landing. Far too much excitement for me, I prefer my landings to be barely noticeable.
In my bag, folded up very carefully, I bring back a gift created by one of the guys at the martial arts club. Jun and I had shared many a conversation in the past few weeks, from politics to policing, wandering to wushu, communism to Confucius. Jun was both a devotee and a well read student of Confucianism. Something of a gentle giant of a man, he expressed himself powerfully through his martial skills, but also rather more subtly through calligraphy, the latter being something of an art form in China. Before I left he had presented me with a piece he himself had created on fine tissue paper, about two foot by four foot, of a saying from Confucius: Ching Xian Wei Fu – which roughly translates as 'Leisure is Happiness' (Jun had come to know me well during my stay in China…).
Would that more of the Chinese people could reconnect with such ancient wisdom. Instead, the words that one hears all the time is 'Ying Gai' which can be translated as 'should' or 'ought to'. Modern Chinese life, much like modern life in the West, seems to consist of rather a lot of Ying Gai; a huge long list of social and civic duties that one should do in order to be acceptable in Chinese society. Formal law in China is nowhere nearly as strongly enforced as it is in the West, but informal law, those pressures and constraints imposed by peers, familial expectations and those from the surrounding culture are very strong indeed. From cradle to grave, Chinese life seems to consist of a long and daunting list of Ying Gai's.
Of course, such societal and cultural constraints and strictures are by no means the exclusive preserve of Chinese society. We all live lives that are an endless reflection of having to conform with so many 'shoulds' and 'ought tos'. A lengthy list of our duties and responsibilities, of what is expected of us to earn at least a modicum of acceptance within our given cultures. This time of year perhaps, such pressures are felt even more strongly as we churn through, yet again, all the rather onerous demands that make up Christmas, often fearful that some aspect will go horribly wrong and we will be exposed for the miscreants that we are! The right cards need to be sent, the right presents should be bought, the requisite amounts of money splashed out, the right people should be seen, the right food prepared. Many at this time of year find themselves feeling pressured, fearful of making some dreadful social faux pas, of creating some dreadful cock-up of a meal or of not including all the people we 'ought to' include, but really, what if a present remains unopened, the food uneaten, the parents unseen, the dishes unwashed, the napkins unfolded, the gifts unwrapped, the crackers unpulled, the bottles unopened, the turkey unstuffed, mince pies unfilled, words unsaid or the wine unmulled? Somehow, I am not sure quite how, but somehow the world seems to manage to go on much the same at it ever did…
'Don't sweat the small staff', a modern day apophthegm appropriately assures us. Without apology, I would go a step further and urge the non-sweating of the big stuff too. Remarkable as it may seem, despite all the dramas, big and small, personal and impersonal, urgent and non-urgent, somehow the world keeps on spinning, the sun comes up, the sun goes down (or, if you are currently in the UK, it just keeps on raining...). People work themselves up into apoplectic states of annoyance and vexation, indeed, some seem to specialize in such posturing, spending much of their time in such a state of mind. Scarcely, perhaps never, does all this sound and fury, whether it be externally expressed or internally withheld, result in anything positive, useful or even significant.
Back in Caffe Nero's, I take a sip of coffee and realize that with all this cogitation my Americano is now completely cold, although still surprisingly tasty. Tis a problem I commonly face when working on these blogs (if one can call it 'work' – it often feels like an indulgence to yours truly). I find myself looking forward to a few weeks of clean, fresh air after the challenges of the Chinese environment, but I am guessing that pretty soon the inclination to resume my travels will have me yearning for other places, other climes. The UK is a very beautiful country … from May to September; the rest of the year has me dreaming of other realms, other shores. We shall see...
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