I loved going to bookstores after Christmas to browse through the calendar shelves. There I always found inspiring images and messages. I would bring home new hopes.
Two years in a row, I missed this routine. I was in the hospital keeping mom company during the last days of 2019. I stayed home, following COVID protocol, this time around. Still, I managed to find new calendars online.
When I woke up on the first morning of 2021, I realized that time was passing indifferently. Everything that challenged us continued to exist. I was disappointed. Looking at the snowy image and the large print “January 2021” on my wall, I told myself to be patient and be hopeful.
In a few more months, things will begin to turn around. Next year this time, it is entirely possible that New York will be a vibrant city full of creative energy.
—During Taiyuan Era of the Jin Dynasty, there was a man from Wuling prefecture, fishing for a living. One day, rolling along the stream, he lost track of the distance. Suddenly, there were peach trees lining up the banks. For hundreds of steps, there were no other kinds of trees. Fragrant herbs fresh and beautiful, falling petals scattered around. The fisherman, quite astonished, traveled further, hoping to find the end of the forest.
At the source of the spring, the forest ended. There was a hill with a small opening where, seemingly, lights were coming through. . .
Tao Yuanming, the great poet of the Eastern Jin, wrote a poem entitled “Peach Blossom Spring,” accompanied by a prose anecdotal narration:[1]
A fisherman, by accident, found a beautiful peach forest. Hidden behind the forest was an isolated village where, for centuries, folks lived joyfully without the disturbance from the outside world. They had no knowledge of the changes of regimes. The cycles of seasons marked their calendar. They were courteous to the visitor and were curious to hear his stories.
After a few days, as the fishermen prepared to leave, the elders said to him, “What we have here is not worth mentioning to others.” The fisherman left traces along his way out, located his boat, and returned home. His attempts to trace back to the village all failed. An elite, learning the incidence, wished to follow up, yet died before having a chance.
Peach Blossom Spring had since become a symbol of a Utopian world. Some enthusiasts searched for possible locations that inspired Tao. Did he actually need a realistic model for his creation?
Tao Yuanming was born in the late Eastern Jin (c. 365). In his thirties, Tao entered governmental services. Unfortunately, instead of fulfilling his goals of supporting the courts and providing public services, he ended up working under shadowy figure with rebellious ambitions. His poems of this period often reflected his struggles. After several attempts, serving in various capacities, he retreated from public life and return to his hometown. Natural scenery and rustic life became the frequent subjects of his mature works.
The “Peach Blossom Spring” was written in 421, one year after Liu Yu overthrew the Jin court and established Liu Song. Tao used the imaginary village to reflect his ideal. Interestingly, the fisherman did not stay there permanently. Were there things in his old world that he could not let go? Did he intend to bring others into this fantasy land?
亂世 luan shì is a common expression in Chinese, describing a turbulent time. 亂 means “disorderly.” 世 is a complicated word that can be applied to time, as “generation,” “period,” “century;“ and “dynasty,” or applied to space, as the “world.” Anyone who has lived in the States through 2020 should have no problem relating to this expression.
Two days after the election, I was in Midtown Manhattan. All the storefronts, including those of Macy’s flagship store, were boarded up. The message “Give, Love, Believe” in Macy’s iconic red and white was jarring to the eyes as well as to the minds.
Give, Love, Believe
I do not dream of colorful spring blossoms or fragrant herbs. I do not need to be living in a fantasy land. Instead, I hope to give more and to love more. I believe that, one day, familiarity will be the norm again. Would this day come soon?
