Man and the Machine

I was born in Chengdu in the winter of ’95. In the first little bit of my life, I stayed in a small apartment that the SWJT University gave to my grandparents because my grandfather was a professor.

Every time I come back to China, I come back to this place.

Within this tiny, messy, and crowded space there is an innocent essence of simplicity. The toilet doesn’t flush by itself, and you need to dump a bucket of water to imitate the action. The windows are not sealed, and the blinds don’t block out the light. There is no heating, and the only warmth in the winter is from clothes and blankets.

It’s authentic.

I’m not sure if it was because of a long flight tiring me out, or just jet lag, but I’ve been able to sleep very easily ever since I’ve arrived. The house is real messy — there is shit all over the place, but my heart is calm. The anxieties, complexities, and worries of my daily life drown in the authentic naive life that my grandparents have set in.

I didn’t have much issue adjusting to the time difference (although my stomach had some issues adjusting to the food — not pleasant), and I’ve had the chance to start living a normal, day-to-day life. Since I’m not working or going to school, I’ve been given the rare chance of seeing the city at times where others don’t get the chance to.

Just 2 hours ago, I left the house to outside to read; I find that the grand openness of nature is a good environment for my mind to fill and my soul to relax. Being in the surrounding of the non-artificial, it’s easy to enjoy the moment.

While walking around in the park, I noticed something interesting. There were a bunch of people sitting right beside the pond, eyes affixed, gazing — not at the scenery — at their laps.

As I continued my stroll, the more and more I found myself observing the people who were not observing me. I found the irony absurdly fascinating; here were a bunch of middle aged people who, by their own will, came to the park to be in a place of serenity — to be surrounded in the simplicity of nature — and yet were immersed in the complexity of their phones.

It’s almost as if there is some kind of brainwashing that makes all our acts dilatory. I don’t think going to the park and going on your phone is necessarily a bad thing, but I do think if the purpose was for relaxation, it would be much better accomplished by disconnecting.

I’m starting to understand why religions place so much emphasis on being in harmony with and everything around oneself. When we give in to the natural state of the universe and let ourselves be taken by the flow of space and time, we are able to truly witness and experience the moment for itself.

The dichotomy between nature and technology is becoming increasingly evident, but at the end of the day, the machine is not something we can live without. It is impossible to eliminate all interaction with it, and definitely would not be considered healthy to. However, I’m sure that all of us could make our lives a little bit harmonious with a little less of it, and a little more of us.