Mr. Bai was our teacher when I studied at the New
Oriental School (now NYSE:EDU) 20 years ago in
Beijing to pass the GRE and TOEFL tests. He
realized our collective dream at the time, i.e.,
that he attended the Peking University and went on
to study in a prestigous US college on scholarship.
A lively guy in his early 30s, he used to tell us
stories from his days abroad. I forgot the details
but one thing he enlightened us with with undisguised
disappointment and frustruation. "You do have
freedom in America," he said, "the kind where
nobody gives a shit about you." That statement has
kept coming to mind from time to time.
Many years later, I read the book "The War of Art"
by Steven Pressfield (through Joe Rogan). I felt
it was written for me and it came at the right time.
Pressfield talked about, among other things, the
despair of freedom:
These are not easy questions. Who am I?
Why am I here? They're not easy because
the human being isn't wired to function as
an individual. We're wired tribally, to
act as part of a group. Our psyches are
programmed by millions of years of
hunter-gatherer evolution. We know what
the clan is; we know how to fit into the
band and the tribe. What we don't know is
how to be alone. We don't know how to be
free individuals.
and
What exactly is this despair? It is the
despair of freedom. The dislocation and
emasculation experienced by the individual
cut free from the familiar and comforting
structures of the tribe and the clan, the
village and the family.
It is the state of modern life.
For me, learning to live with the American freedom
was very much like learning to swim. First of all,
I loved to be in the water. Early pre-teen
attempts at floating, however, failed miserably.
As long as I stayed on dry land, the situation
didn't improve. But the itch was natural and
deep-seated. Over the next 20 years, I never let
it go until I could swim all four major styles and
did a 3km Swim-A-Thon. I eventually was able to
feel free in the water.
Likewise, I never forgot one thing (aside from
fame and fortune) that I came here for, i.e., to
experience the Western culture and to be as free
in the adopted culture as in the one that first
claimed me.
I have learnt to love it.
Nobody gives a shit about me, still. I can live
with that and even enjoy being free from care.
Cheap attentions out of the way, I could focus on
true progresses, e.g., my English to hone everyday,
my health to win the hard way, setting an example
for my kid, etc. Over time my skin has grown
thicker, things that used to hurt me no longer do,
and I have stopped taking things too seriously.
Do I miss my tribe in the old country? Absolutely.
If only for the love for those who raised me. Do I
still dream the classic Chinese dream of a man
above men? 18 years after migration, it finally
has stopped haunting me.
