Life...how I think about it

I guess it’s my first time to write on such a heavy and lofty topic, but I think, life is short, and it’s the right time to think about it now, before I begin my last year of undergraduate education at Yale. I believe, within each one of us there is a strong desire to find out what really the meaning of life is because after all, we are humans, and until we really find out the answer, we cannot be truly happy.

So far I think I’ve asked the wrong question. I have kept pondering whether I should do this or whether I should do that for my future, but I just realized the most important question is actually: what I really want to do out of my life? Or in another word, when I am on my death bed and in retrospect of my entire life, can I say, with total honesty, that I really accomplished something in and enjoy my career and that this life of mine is indeed meaningful and there’s no regret? This shift of mindset came about because of two reasons. One, I just realized how important the way we ask questions can direct our thoughts; The summer research experiences have taught me that, the type of questions we ask often sets boundaries on the scope of our imaginations. Second, I was thinking, if I am about to die, will I be thinking about whether I should do this or that, or will I be thinking about a more relevant question: how to best use every second of my life now. The second question seems to be, at first sight, a bit passive, but it's actually not. Realizing that everything has an end can help me direct my energy to the most meaningful activities. At this point, what seems to me the most important is: to explore the idea of beauty through arts, to contribute and advance our knowledge of our very existence through research, and to create a better society through ways that can eliminate human sufferings.

When I was in Germany I traveled to many beautiful cities. I experienced the purity of Goslar, the mystery of Prague, the liveliness of Berlin, the romance of the Rheine, and of course, the tasty whines at Koblenz. Nonetheless, there always seemed to be something missing in my life for the past three months. I had a successful project, welcoming lab group, and I enjoyed the food very much. I figured I was probably homesick. No, not really. I was confident, strong, and independent after all these years of winds and storms, from the hardships the first time I came to the United States 6 years ago, to the three months I was in Beijing for the summer after freshman year, not to mention the academic pressures at Yale.

I couldn’t figure out what was wrong until one day I was walking during the sunset along the bank of Neckar in Heidelberg. I saw a couple holding hands and strolling in front of me, and the answer became apparent to me. I realized I’ve known it for a long time, but only now did I have the courage to face it. I’m smart, I’m intelligent, and I believe, if I try hard enough, I’ll attain fame and fortune in the future. Nonetheless, what’s the meaning of this entire business of “success” if there is nobody who can share what I’ve been through with me?

In the Shadow of the Wind, Daniel said sometimes he felt like time just snatches your friends for no reason. Sometimes I think that’s right, but I don’t always believe it. It all depends on me actually, on how I value friendships, and on whether I’m willing to do whatever I can to maintain the friendship. If you ask me what I value the most in life, I can tell you, in addition to the three aforementioned, it’s the friendship. It shapes my life and defines me as Po-Han Chen, but from time to time I seem to forget about it. My teacher in middle school once said you’ll never meet better friends in your life than your childhood friends. I didn’t quite understand that, but now I do.

Ruins

My co-workers at Max Planck must feel very strange, why I loved to visit historical cities so much. When I was in Goettingen, Lena's parents seemed to be very surprised about my interest in such a small town. I couldn't explain very well this kind of feeling, so I just said I wanted to know more about German history. Cities like Berlin and Cologne indeed have certain appeals, but walking on the narrow streets surrounded by buildings several hundred years old was another kind of enchanting experience. It took me a long time to think about why old buildings and cultural heritage sites appeal to me. Here I jot down some abstract, probably a bit nonsensical, notes on what has been on my mind. In essence, I was looking for some cultural and historical ruins, ruins that seem to be destroyed by time but apparently not.

One example is the Heidelberg castle. The whole palace ruin sits on a steep hill, overlooking the old town of Heidelberg and the Neckar river. Pieces and layers of constructing stones and bricks scattered among the wildly grown grasses, and broken pillars stand solemnly under the red sky during sunset. When the night comes, the moon, who has witnessed so much in ages, grins for a second, and then quickly hides behind the clouds, casting a profound shadow over the ruins.

Time manifests its power and leaves its traces on earth through historical ruins, leaving scars and uneven tomography. If there were no ruins, then something called yesterday would be meaningless, and if there were no yesterday, there would be no need to mention today and tomorrow. Looking at ruins, you feel its stubbornness, like a tragic hero who's unwilling to die. Looking at ruins, you feel its sufferings, like the trying past of the people and their country.

Even though ruins are like a dying old man, they nonetheless display an unspeakable beauty. Through their weathered faces, you see the power and noble acts of our ancestors. Through ruins one see the magnificent essence of one's culture. There is no need to renovate the ruins. Such act would be unnecessary, for it would be like an old woman without wrinkles on her face or an old man without white hairs-it would be strange and unfitting.

Whenever I see a ruin, I feel like watching a tragedy. I do not, however, mean that tragedy only brings sorrows, for without tragedy, there would be no soul-stirring strains, and without soul-stirring strains, there would be no sublime beauty. Everest is sublime because its deep and freezing snows cover countless bones and remains of those adventurous spirits. Life is sublime, because it's addled with separations, bidding farewells, and disappointments.

Ruins are important, because they are the symbols of civilization. They give us perspectives, about where we came from, and where we are going.

Prague

Another view of Charles Bridge
Originally uploaded by pohanchen

So this past weekend I finally visited Prague, the enchanted and mysterious city. I arrived at Prague very early in the morning. Walking almost alone on the stone-paved streets with old buildings on either side of me was so relaxing and peaceful, that I didn't really mind getting lost for a few hours before finally finding the place for my stay.

But as the hour went by, the number of tourists just sky-rocked. The sense of peace and silent was gradually killed by the tourist groups. Indeed I almost felt that the city transformed herself into something she was not supposed to be. The city was no longer herself, but someone who tried to ingratiate the taste of foreigners. I know I'm very selfish, but somehow I wished there was only Prague and me, and the rest of the people on the streets just disappeared. It sounds like I'm in love with the city. But anyway, one can also feel that the former communist state of Czech is undergoing a transition. The people are trying to learn from the west, but at the same time their mindset still remains in the past. It's a great city, but one certainly needs to be aware of many tourist traps. Unlike what I expected, the expense at Prague was quite high, even higher than most of other cities I've visited in Germany.