The whole process feels incredibly fast: the defense, the Hooding Ceremony, the Commencement. Although they span the whole month of May, they seem to happen over the snapping of fingers. Surely it was a happy and memorable moment as I had the chance to celebrate it with my family and friends, including some special ones from far away. I wish I could hold that moment longer so I can enjoy it more fully; after all, it took me six years to reach this point. But it disappears as quickly as it comes, like the dissipation of the mist by the morning sun—the campus becomes quiet again, family and friends have left, and life goes on.
I already feel nostalgic, not just for that fleeting moment of happiness, but for a way of living I am too familiar with and too used to. Now I must leave that comfortable student life behind, and start the new career as a scholar and professor. Although I try to make this transition slow and smooth, it is a change nonetheless, which creates both excitement and anxiety.
To alleviate the anxiety, I initially planned to travel to Europe to take a break. This plan didn't work out because of an unexpected logistic issue (my passport is not with me). This is rather frustrating because I do want to travel after two years of staying in Cambridge, and this is a rare opportunity to enjoy myself. But bureaucracy presents a formidable barrier, and I have to learn to live with it. At every turn of the rosy moment of life, reality strikes back.
I should not complain too much considering what is ahead of me in the following years. It is a fortunate year after all. But sometimes I feel that underneath my docile and gentle facade lies an independent and rebellious soul, a free spirit. I like to explore both the physical world and the world of books, to learn more and experience more. But as I enter the next stage of my life, I wonder how long I can sustain this way of living, to live life the fullest. On this matter, I often think of Frank Capra's movie "It is a wonderful life." In one scene, the protagonist George is waiting at the train station for his brother, who just graduates from college, and, as George expects, will come home to take over their father's bank so George can be free. George has big plans; he shows a bunch of brochures to his friends and tells them that he will travel to many beautiful cities in Europe and fulfill his dream. George didn't go because later he realizes that his brother has a job in the factory of his fiancée's father. Neither does George go anywhere for the rest of his life. He stays in his hometown, and enjoys a wonderful life there.
I love this movie, and cry every time at the end. It reminds me that freedom always comes with restraints, without which freedom becomes purposeless and disorienting. Opposite to freedom is sacrifice and responsibility, string to stability and source of happiness. It is a fine balance between the fulfilling of self and the caring of others—too much of the former makes one detached and too much of the latter becomes a burden. It is a balance I will continue to learn and test out in the following years. Between soaring to the sky and sticking to the ground, where is me?
