Birthday thoughts

Today I turn 38.

This birthday feels special as it heralds a new stage of my life. Looking back to almost four decades of my life, the path is straightforward but with twists: first six years, pre-school life. Not much memory; from six to now, more than thirty years of school life. Ridiculous long but also extraordinarily rich; from now to the following years, probably decades, post-school life. Challenging yet with lots of hopes.

Age is an interesting thing precisely because we all know that life does not last forever. So the central question is: what truly matters? I spent quite a while to contemplate that question. More than a decade ago, while I was studying biology at the University of Michigan, I read Ray Huang’s autobiography, Yellow River, Blue Mountain. Ray received his PhD in history at UM at the age of 46. That inspired me. A concrete role model was a driving force for me.

Making decisions, especially unconventional ones, requires strong inner power. In the fall of 2005, I went to a small state park along the Lake Michigan, walking along the lakeshore, drawing on the sand, thinking hard, interrogating my soul. In the epic movie Lawrence in Arabia, there is a scene that Lawrence sat on the edge of a vast desert, his eyes intensely gazing into the horizon. He was thinking hard to make a decision, an extremely dangerous one to cross the deadly dessert for a military action. Finally he made up his mind to do the impossible. So did I.

It has been a long journey from that critical moment to where I am now. Making a decision is a highly personal act, but to implement that decision requires lots of support from others. In that respect, I am blessed. Many memorable moments well up.

On a quiet Saturday morning in December 2005, I had a heart-to-heart conversation with my boss Ken about my change of career. Impressively, he never asked why I wanted to make this change, but rather eagerly offered all justifications for such a transition. The script I prepared was not of much use. He understood well the importance of respecting others’ decisions.

Later when I was pursuing a Master in China Studies at UM, I attended a lecture by a renowned historian Timothy Brook. After his talk, Christian, my MA advisor, introduced me to him. “He has a biology PhD,” Christian whispered. Hearing that, Tim looked into my eyes deeply, “Now you are doing something you really like.” Sometimes a few words encompasses the whole universe.

During that period, I also met a junior scholar Yiching, who spent many years at U. Chicago to find a project he found driving and meaningful. Naturally, he understood my decision well. “You don’t have a choice,” he opined. It is interesting to think about the decision-making process: we exercise our power of free will, only to find something we are destined for. The process is powerful, and transformative: to find a path for our life, with great confidence, is an integral part of our growth.

Another moment with my dearest friend Margo, my colleague at Harvard: We all become accustomed to our ways of living, making redirecting of a set trajectory hard. But once a change is initiated, no matter what the outcome would be, people rarely regret. Change is a positive action. My own experience is a good testimony: Before I changed my career, the most intimidating thought was whether I would regret later. A decade has passed, and I never regretted.

There are many more friends, and moments that touched my heart and motivated me to move forward. If my career has changed drastically, one idea has become more affirmative and sturdy: my dependence on others; my positive, even innocent, belief in the goodness of people.

Now I am about to close up my long life of a student and move on to be an adult and a scholar. The future is full of challenges and possibilities. Right now, I can just enjoy this moment of quiet happiness, with a sense of accomplishment and closure. I always think that true happiness is a temporary feeling, and it often happens when I anticipate something rather than actually doing it. I tend to believe that for a good life, happiness is like small islands floating in the ocean of contentness. Sitting on one of these islands now on my 38^th birthday, with the waves in the past flapping on my back, I look ahead to an exciting new sail to an adventurous and promising future.