Yanwen’s blog

12/17/2024

In Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry into Values (1974), Robert M. Pirsig recounts an interesting story about catching monkeys that illustrates a profound truth about human nature and society.

A tribe of Native Americans devised a unique method for catching monkeys. They would drill a small hole in its top, hollow out its inside, and fill it with rice. The coconut was then securely tied to a wooden post with a rope. Attracted by the rice, a monkey would reach its hand into the small hole to grab the grains. However, the hole was too small for the monkey to withdraw its clenched fist.

Refusing to let go of the rice, the monkey remained trapped, oblivious to the fact that something more important than rice was at stake -- its freedom—and even its life. The villagers, exploiting this weakness, could easily capture the monkey and put it in a cage.

The method works because of what Pirsig refers to as "value rigidity." The monkey becomes so fixated on the rice that it cannot see the bigger picture. What it clings to seems so trivial in comparison to what it loses.

As onlookers, we might pity the monkey for its stubbornness and think we are smarter than this, but the truth is, we often fall into similar traps. Our own fixations—on wealth, status, power, or rigid beliefs—can blind us to what truly matters. As Pirsig aptly notes in his book:  

 "Of the value traps, the most widespread and pernicious is value rigidity. This is an inability to revalue what one sees because of commitment to previous values."

This saying also resonates with the idea of value rigidity, where an inability to reassess what truly matters leads to misguided choices.

This concept of value rigidity doesn’t just apply to individuals. A country can fall victim to it, particularly when it comes to war. Some countries' obsession with war offers a striking example of value rigidity. Like the monkey clutching the rice, they have become fixated on the outdated dominance, control of resources, and supremacy, refusing to let go of the "rice" in their clenched hands, even when the pursuit leads to staggering costs in human lives, resources, and global instability.

Ultimately, the success of a country—or a person—comes from seeing the large picture and understanding what truly matters and having the flexibility to adapt. On the individual level, the monkey’s freedom is always within its grasp; it just has to loosen its fist.

12/16/2024

A few weeks ago, I heard a true story about a man who wrote to his mother every day. Later, he compiled all those daily writings into a book. I can’t recall exactly what he wrote to his mother, whether she wrote back, or if the book was a success. In fact, I don’t even remember where I heard the story. Yet, something about it resonated deeply with me.  

The man said that knowing his mother was waiting for his writing motivated him to keep doing it. He knew he had only one reader—but that was enough to keep him to write every single day. With just one dedicated audience, he didn’t need to worry much about what or how he wrote.

This story stays with me because, in a modest way, I see myself in a similar situation. I write every day, and though my audience is larger on social media, my readership still feels small and personal. Like him, I also feel motivated knowing that someone, somewhere, is reading, though my motivation comes mainly from within.

But more to it, I’ve come to realize that the ultimate reward of consistent daily practice—whether writing, painting, exercising, or any activity—often lies not in external impacts but in how it transforms us as individuals, and how unexpectedly this writer builds something truly lasting, both for him and beyond.

A friend of mine once sent me this to encourage me to keep writing: “功不唐捐” (Gōng bù táng juān), "No effort is ever wasted." The saying conveys the idea that every action, no matter how small or directed toward how few, has value.

First is the idea of connection and writing. Writing isn’t all about reaching large crowds; it is about the satisfaction of sharing and maintaining a bond.

Second, writing daily, either for a large or small audience, builds discipline and improves skill. It’s practicing an art form; the process itself is valuable for personal growth and honing one’s craft.

Third, there is always an intrinsic feeling of fulfillment with daily self-improvement, either organizing one's thoughts or communicating one's understanding of the world through writing or drawing.

Fourth, a legacy is not built in a day but with the accumulation of this small daily output. The written words become a record of our thoughts, feelings, and impactful moments, holding value as a legacy for future generations or as a testament to a relationship like the one between this writer and his mother.

Finally, sometimes authenticity can be compromised for a writer who targets for large audiences. This story offers a reminder that writing can still be meaningful, personal, authentic, even when the audience is small.

Ultimately, the true reward of one act each day is not measured by the number of people witnessing it, but by how it impacts us. Whether writing for one or for a thousand, it is the act itself—the discipline, the reflection, practice, and the growth—that makes it meaningful.

12/15/2024

Last Friday afternoon, December 13th, I was walking down a street in Brooklyn. People were busy coming and going, total strangers to one another. Amazon delivery trucks zipped by, laden with holiday gifts. At first, the scene reminded me of Paris, but I soon sensed a difference—something less common in the City of Light.

Trader Joe’s was bustling with shoppers. Just outside, a family of three huddled together, begging. Beneath the Brooklyn–Queens Expressway, a homeless man lay curled up against the cold. These scenes left me with a distinct impression of urban life: cold and inhumane.  

The day is unforgivably cold and the atmosphere here feels indifferent. On one side, there’s the constant hum of human activity; on the other, the visible struggles of those living on the margins. It’s a stark reminder of the dual realities many American cities face: the coexistence of affluence and poverty, progress and neglect.

A saying comes to mind, one that seems to capture Brooklyn’s bustling activity and stark contrasts perfectly: "朱门酒肉臭，路有冻死骨" (Zhū mén jiǔ ròu chòu, lù yǒu dòng sǐ gǔ), or "Behind the vermillion gates, wine and meat rot; on the streets lie the frozen bones of the poor." It encapsulates the haunting coexistence of wealth and poverty —echoing the realities of urban life across time and cultures.

This scene also brings me back to Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Match Girl. Both the saying and the story vividly portray the divide between abundance and hardship, amplifying the human cost of indifference. In Andersen’s tale, the girl freezes while the wealthy remain oblivious to her suffering—a chilling parallel to the disparities I witnessed in Brooklyn. Written in 1845, the story remains heartbreakingly relevant today.  

Brooklyn, like much of New York City, is a place of complexity—a blend of creativity, opportunity, and undeniable hardship. The December chill only deepens the sense of inhumanity, amplifying the indifference and the emotional distance that makes everyone seem like strangers to one another.

12/14/2024

On the night of December 3, 2024, at around 10:30 p.m., South Korean President Yoon Suk Yeol declared martial law in a national televised address. He justified the decision by citing threats from “North Korean communist forces” and accusing the opposition party of undermining the nation. The declaration granted sweeping powers to ban protests, dissolve political parties, and control the media.

Almost immediately, protests erupted outside the National Assembly, with demonstrators chanting slogans against the martial law and demanding Yoon’s resignation. Riot police and military personnel were swiftly deployed to manage the growing unrest, but the situation intensified as protesters confronted the security forces.

Amid this turmoil, opposition lawmakers, led by Democratic Party leader Lee Jae-myung, rushed to the National Assembly to overturn the martial law. Lee livestreamed his journey, urging citizens to protect democracy. Eventually, he scaled a fence to enter the Assembly building. Inside, lawmakers quickly assembled, overcoming barriers at the gates and securing a quorum despite clashes with armed soldiers. By 1:02 a.m., the National Assembly voted overwhelmingly—190-0—to annul the martial law, prompting the withdrawal of security forces.

In a second address at dawn, President Yoon acknowledged parliament’s decision to end the martial law but continued to blame the opposition for the nation’s political dysfunction. By 4:30 a.m., following an emergency Cabinet meeting, the martial law was officially lifted, bringing an end to a night of intense political drama and public resistance.

Despite the heavy confrontations between protesters, police, and military personnel, no deaths or injuries were reported. The swift and decisive actions of lawmakers to revoke the martial law, combined with the restraint shown by security forces, prevented further escalation and helped maintain order.

This episode marks a significant victory for South Korea’s democracy. The public protests and the swift parliamentary vote to annul the martial law demonstrate the strength of South Korean civil society and its commitment to upholding democratic values. The peaceful resolution, without casualties, reflects the maturity of South Korea’s democratic institutions and their ability to resolve political crises through collective action.

The events also highlight the importance of law enforcement restraint, which is very crucial in preventing violence and casualties. While South Korean security forces were heavily deployed and equipped with military-grade resources, their measured response likely helped avoid bloodshed. In contrast, the response to similar unrest in the U.S., such as the January 6 Capitol Hill riot, was often criticized for its initial lack of preparedness and subsequent use of force. If a comparable martial law situation had occurred in the U.S., the outcome could have been hugely different.

12/13/2024

A few days ago, while I was in the YWCA locker room, I encountered a little girl in the shower area who was crying and screaming hysterically. Her wails were piercing, echoing loudly through the entire locker room. She seemed completely out of control, as though she was throwing an intense temper tantrum. People exchanged glances silently, -- what had her parent done to upset her so much? Why wasn’t her mom stepping in to calm her down?

When they emerged from the shower, the girl’s attempts to scream continued, though her voice sounded hoarse and tired. She reached out to hold her mom, but the mother pushed her away, remaining silent throughout the entire commotion. She looked frustrated. The girl spoke to her mom in Chinese, so I decided to talk to her in the same language. The mother explained that her daughter was five and a half years old and prone to these dramatic outbursts at home as well, describing it as having a “big temper.”

The girl’s cries reminded me of my own children when they were little. There was always a reason behind their tears, and I made it a point to calm and comfort them first, providing them with a sense of security and validating their feelings. This approach helped them feel understood and soothed their emotions.

While I couldn’t know the exact reason for this little girl’s distress at the pool, I couldn’t help but think the mother could have responded differently. She could have paused whatever she was doing and given her full attention to the child, focusing on calming and comforting her. A warm hug or soothing words could have made a big difference.

Once the child had calmed down, the mother might have gently asked, “It’s okay, but can you tell me what’s making you so upset?” This approach not only validates the child’s emotions but also teaches her how to articulate her feelings, encouraging calm communication.

A Chinese saying for this situation is “以柔克刚” (yǐ róu kè gāng), meaning, "Overcome steel with gentleness." It emphasizes the power of a calm and empathetic approach in resolving conflicts or managing intense emotions. It also applies to interpersonal dealings, where a calm and understanding attitude can defuse tension and foster positive outcomes.

This incident also illustrates an important principle that extends beyond parents and children: the value of emotional validation and attentiveness in interpersonal dealings. Whether in personal relationships or professional settings, taking the time to acknowledge someone’s emotions and providing a calming presence can diffuse tense situations. Asking thoughtful questions like, "Can you help me understand what’s troubling you?" fosters open communication and demonstrates empathy, laying the groundwork for trust and resolution.

Finally, throughout such situations, patience is essential. It’s crucial for parents—and anyone dealing with heightened emotions—to exemplify calmness, even when feeling frustrated or upset.

Children often mirror the emotions of the adults around them, and maintaining a composed demeanor helps them learn to self-soothe. Similarly, in other contexts, maintaining composure can set the tone for a more constructive interaction. 

With a lot of patience and care, moments like these can become opportunities to grow and learn. Most importantly, it strengthens bonds and teaches emotional resilience, whether between parent and child or among colleagues and friends.