experiencing life through an always-nuanced worldview.

Back in high school, I once had a conversation with a friend about human beings always striving for something higher, wanting more than what they already have. Back then, we concluded that such is human nature: as kids, we grow up, go to school, continue onto higher education, establish a career, get married, settle down, have kids, want our kids to grow up to be just as successful, etc. etc. From one stage to the next, we strive for more — be it for better or for worse. We are never quite satisfied with what’s in our lot. Now, don’t get me wrong: this is not a bad thing; it was merely an observation.

So, what does that have to do with anything? Well, recently, I’ve consciously acknowledged myself doing this, and have been trying to determine why it is that I seem to want to strive for more.

In the past few months, I’ve thought about studying abroad for a semester in Europe. Last semester, I decided that I wanted to go abroad to London, England. So, when this semester rolled around, I began to look for programs and universities that I wanted to attend. I even planned out my class schedule for the next 2.5 years, to see if I could still graduate and have taken everything for my simultaneous degrees, which actually worked out (in my plan, that is). Anyhow, it wasn’t until I realized that I couldn’t go abroad to London through the UC Education Abroad Program (EAP) for Spring semester of next year that I re-evaluated my decision.

I’ve had battles in my mind about this for quite some time now, and I’m trying to possibly convince myself that I needn’t study abroad for a semester because:

1. I already went abroad this summer to Taiwan (which “technically” may not count, seeing as I’ve lived in Taiwan before and have family there…)
2. With my simultaneous degree/double major, my class schedule will be tight. In London, I’d be taking classes for elective requirements only.
3. The class selections at King’s College (where I would have gone) are not broad at all.
4. I want to take so many electives that is offered for the undergrad program of the Haas School of Business.

However, I DO want to study abroad in London because of an idealized image/scenario I have in my mind about how it would be: me in a new city, with new and interesting people, attending school in a foreign place, having an amazing time going out both during the day and nights…

It is then that I realize: this is what I used to think, before I came to college. This is what I thought/wanted (minus the “foreign”/”new”, persay) my summer abroad in Taiwan. I had the time of my life in Taiwan this summer. I lived my “study abroad dream,” meeting new people, going to places in Taipei I never really knew existed, attending school… Coming to college in Berkeley, studying abroad in Taiwan, all of these experiences–it’s the same thing, in my head, which makes me wonder why I seem to have/want “new experiences.” I guess I don’t take time to realize that me being in Berkeley, away from home, is the “new/foreign” place; it was and still could be a place where I’m meeting new and interesting people, having an amazing time day/night; I am living my dream.

So what is it about my life that makes me want to continue and ask for more, continue to ask for a new scene? I don’t believe I’m unhappy right now, I don’t believe the people I’m around are un-interesting… So what the hell is it?!

I’m confused as ever but needless to say, I most likely will not be going abroad. Although I would love, love, love to stay for a month or two in London one day…preferably in the next few years, if I have the money to do so.

I guess we’ll see.

I wrote a response paper for a Chinese literature (taught and read in English) class earlier this year on Daoism, because we had read Laozi’s Daodejing and a portion of the Zhuang-zi. After reading the primary texts (or at least a part of it), I’d have to say I definitely made too broad of assumptions (if they were assumptions at all to begin with) in my religion paper I wrote on Daoism my senior year of high school (see Religion Paper Excerpts). I just think it’s interesting how my views on Daoism have changed. Obviously, I’m not suggesting I completely understand it, but from what I’ve read, this is just my own interpretation, which is all that matters for me, right?

Anyway, just thought I’d post this up… I also have it in PDF form, with the sources cited. Otherwise, here it is–

The Zhuang-zi and Laozi texts attempt to identify human’s vain desires for materialistic goods and temporal values, and in turn, suggest an alternative – the Way of the sage. Both texts are filled with contradiction after contradiction, paradox after paradox, all of which amount to one conclusion: that there is no answer, and that in itself is the answer.

Both Zhuangzi and “Laozi” highlight the emphasis humans place on fleeting values and tangible goods, such as wealth and jade. Laozi states that when the Way weakened, humaneness, rightness, intelligence, and wisdom emerged (84); he juxtaposes the Way with concepts that humans and society define as “good.” Zhuangzi, likewise, criticizes “knowledge,” arguing that human’s quest for knowledge triggered division and the “so’s and not sos’s” (117). Zhuangzi and Laozi’s critiques of human values stem from their argument that everything in the universe is constantly changing and transforming, and thus “the placement of value distinctions…[are] merely fleeting moments in the game of life that all come to naught” (Cook 66). Does this mean, then, that there is no point to knowledge, honor, wealth, and even virtue? What is virtue?

Zhuangzi and Laozi regard the sage as one who lives in harmony with the Way and disregards such temporal temptations and values. The ability to live amongst the paradoxes and contradictions is what Laozi characterizes as “profound virtue” (83). According to Laozi, a sage “accomplishes things by doing nothing” and furthers teaching with no words (80). The sage exists amongst ordinary men, amidst argumentation and conflict, but has the ability to consider, take positions when necessary (without argumentation), and make distinctions (Zhuangzi 119). The sage’s purpose is to harmonize with the Way as well as teach humans how to be stripped of natural desires such as ambition, knowledge, and wisdom. The sage, by doing nothing, brings society into order (Laozi 81), because “by doing nothing, nothing is left undone” (87). How does “doing nothing” result in “something”? What can be attributed to as “undone”? What is the meaning of words?

Present in both texts is a continuous play on words and strings of paradoxes. Zhuangzi presents pages and pages of dialogue about flutes, finger-pointing, there-is’s and there-isn’t’s only to say that we don’t know if we “know that what [we] call knowing is not, in fact, not knowing…[and] what [we] call not knowing is not, in fact, knowing” (Zhuangzi 119-120). The paradoxes and contradictions in the texts (and the texts themselves) become physical manifestations of the Way: ever-changing, open to interpretation, and words that may or may not mean anything and may or may not make sense.

Laozi and Zhuangzi’s manipulations of words and twisting of ideas throw the readers (like myself) in all directions, leaving me wondering what it is that Zhuangzi and Laozi are trying to convey about the Way. Only after reading the endless paradoxes and anipulation of language can I finally begin to comprehend “the wordless teaching [of the Way] and the advantage of doing nothing” (Laozi 89).