Yanwen’s blog

On May 17 this year, a young relative of mine asked me to teach English to her daughter who will be 6 years old in December. I agreed, but I made it clear from the start that it was essential for her to review the lessons with her daughter daily. Unfortunately, she didn’t follow through, and week after week, the girl made no progress. I suggested we give her a quiz, either weekly or biweekly, because I couldn’t keep investing time without seeing results—it was a waste of time for all of us. Knowing her daughter wouldn’t pass the quiz, my relative decided to call off the lessons.

Yesterday, she contacted me again, asking me to resume teaching her daughter, this time promising she would be more diligent. I agreed to give it another shot.

Recently, I came across a quote that I felt deeply connected to this situation and wanted to share with my relative but I didn't. It went something like this: “No one will help a person who has no value, someone who doesn’t make an effort to improve themselves. No one will waste time on someone who shows no hope of progress. So, to receive help from others, you must first work on improving yourself. You need to let others see hope in you.”

These words deliver a powerful message about personal responsibility and self-improvement. They highlight that people are less likely to invest their time or resources in someone who isn’t showing effort, growth, or potential. It stresses the importance of taking initiative and demonstrating a willingness to improve—because that’s what draws support and encouragement from others.

“Letting others see hope in you” means you must cultivate qualities that inspire confidence in your future. It’s the fundamental step you must take before expecting help from others.

Opportunities and assistance often come when others recognize your sincerity, commitment and potential for progress. This lesson applies to many areas in life: self-reliance, perseverance, and the need to prove your value in order to gain the support of others.

A Chinese saying goes, 自助者天助之 (Zì zhù zhě tiān zhù zhī),  "Heaven helps those who help themselves." It captures the essence of personal effort being a prerequisite for receiving assistance from others, aligning well with the message of self-reliance and personal growth.

Ultimately, it's a motivational reminder to take control of your life, be the driving force behind your own growth, and inspire hope in those who might otherwise hesitate to invest in you.

No more small gestures like yesterday. Let's look at some big system.

One of my Korean students recently returned from a trip home and told me she had a thorough physical checkup while in Korea. According to her, Korea has the best healthcare system in the world. Plus preventive care like this is free.

Curious, I asked another Korean student for her thoughts, and she agreed, offering more details. 

South Korea’s healthcare system is known for its advanced technology and high-quality services. It operates under the National Health Insurance (NHI) program, which covers the entire population, ensuring widespread access to care.

Despite its cutting-edge technology, healthcare in Korea remains surprisingly affordable, especially when compared to countries like the U.S. Routine physical checkups are free for Korean citizens.

My student highlighted a few key differences between the healthcare systems in Korea and America. First, the cost. In the U.S., you often don’t know how much your medical treatment will cost until you receive the bill, which can be quite shocking. 

In contrast, Korean healthcare costs are regulated by the government under the NHI system, with prices for medical services and medications negotiated and well-controlled to keep them affordable.

Korea has also become a top destination for medical tourism, attracting patients from around the world, particularly for cosmetic surgery, due to its affordability and advanced procedures.

Second, my student pointed out the efficiency of the system. In Korea, healthcare is streamlined—everything you need for a full physical can be done in one place and within a few hours. It's called one-stop healthcare.

By contrast, in the U.S., you might need separate appointments for your heart, eyes, dental work, mammogram, and other health needs. Each one requires a different location, and appointments often need to be made well in advance. The thought of scheduling and driving to all these different places is exhausting.

I told my student that I experience the same thing in China. Every time I go back, I get all my checkups done there for the same reasons—it's efficient, affordable, and hassle-free.

In both Korea and China, the focus on affordable preventive healthcare is to promote long-term well-being for all. Their healthcare systems emphasize early detection and cost and time efficiency, demonstrating the belief that prevention works better and more efficient than cure. The role of government in regulating healthcare costs ensures that quality care is accessible to all, regardless of income.

Many Americans may not realize just how different healthcare can be until they step outside their own system. We won’t know the difference until we go beyond our own confinement and see how other countries prioritize access, affordability, and the well-being of their citizens. 

Two days ago, my youngest sister shared an incident with me. Our middle sister had traveled out of town with her husband, leaving their 26-year-old son, JD, at home. JD sometimes stays at his girlfriend’s place, but when she works late, he returns to his parents' apartment. My two sisters live in the same building—one on the third floor, the other on the fourth.

My youngest sister said, "I didn’t know JD had come back. He didn’t stop by. I saw him heading to work while I was watering the flowers in the yard. I asked him where he had breakfast, and he said he’d grab something on the way."

She’s watched JD grow up, so I said to her, "He must be really busy," though I couldn’t imagine he was so busy that he didn’t have a minute to stop by and say hello.

The fact that my sister brought it up shows how much she cares. It reminds me of someone saying this: "晚辈人的不经意的善举，老人都会十分在意," (Wǎnbèi rén de bù jīngyì de shànjǔ, lǎorén dūhuì shífēn zàiyì) which translates to, "The elders deeply appreciate even the most unintentional gestures of kindness from the younger generation."

I’m also reminded of a story from a Japanese village about a man named Mr. Suzuki, who lived alone after his wife passed away. His children had moved to Tokyo for work, only visiting during the holidays. One day, his eldest granddaughter, Ayumi, decided to surprise him with a visit on his birthday. It wasn’t much—she brought a small gift and stayed for tea. But for Mr. Suzuki, it was as if the entire world had come to his doorstep. He was thrilled, chatting about childhood memories, asking about Ayumi’s work, and listening to her stories with great interest.

Ayumi stayed for a few hours and promised to visit more often, not thinking much of it at the time. Months later, when her family returned for the holidays, they noticed a change in her grandfather. He had framed a photo from their visit and often spoke about it with pride. Her father later told her that her visit had been one of the happiest moments Mr. Suzuki had experienced in years.

Mr. Suzuki’s story, like my sister’s, highlights the emotional vulnerability of older family members. Simple gestures—a hello from JD or an unexpected visit from Ayumi—can bring immense joy. To elders, these moments represent care, respect, perhaps a reminder that they’re still part of the family or perhaps much more than this.

I’ve noticed a few interesting things lately. First, last Sunday, while we were with the children, my son mentioned, “Today is 秋分” (qiū fēn), the Autumn Equinox. It’s the time of year when day and night are nearly equal, marking the midpoint of autumn. In the traditional Chinese lunar calendar, it’s one of the 24 solar terms. What made this particularly interesting was that it was the first time he identified a solar term.

Second, after being diagnosed with shingles, I stopped strength training for about five or six weeks and only resumed yesterday. It was disheartening to see how much strength I had lost—I used to handle a 12-lb dumbbell with ease, but now it's a struggle for me. This experience reminded me of the Chinese saying, 拳不离手，曲不离口 (quán bù lí shǒu, qǔ bù lí kǒu), meaning "A martial artist must keep practicing his punches, and a singer must keep practicing her songs." It highlights the importance of constant practice in maintaining skills, here my muscles. Naturally, after weeks without training, some regression was expected.

Lastly, I came across an intriguing post by Shaun Rein, the author of several books on China. He wrote on social media, “I’m sick of hearing what people hate about China on LinkedIn. What do you love? Let me start with two: I love being able to walk anywhere, anytime at night without fear for my safety. I also love how much the infrastructure has improved over the past 20 years. Although I own cars, I prefer taking the subway because it’s cheap, clean, and convenient.”

His post received over 800 responses. People shared what they love about China, mentioning things like safety, food, high-speed transportation, fast internet, vibrant culture, historical depth, humor, clean metros, and the overall ease of living. One person noted how spontaneous life feels in China—compared to Europe, where events require planning far in advance, in China, things can often be arranged within minutes, sometimes get done even on the same day of request.

This made me reflect on the old saying, “No news is good news,” which suggests that if something is reported in the media, it’s usually bad news. Good news, it seems, is not deemed newsworthy because people supposedly aren’t interested in it.

But here, despite people's usual inclination toward bad news, I was surprised by the overwhelming number of positive comments. It seems that people are drawn not just to negativity, but to what resonates as true for them—authenticity and the genuine values they hold dear. When asked, "What do you love about China?" the truth is, there’s plenty of love to be shared. This gives me hope, knowing that, despite the dominance of anti-China MSM in America, people still value truth.

Last weekend, my son gave me a book titled How to Be Well: The 6 Keys to a Happy and Healthy Life by Frank Lipman, published in 2018.

The book presents itself as a handbook for healthy living, offering daily habits and practices that can guide you toward sustained well-being. It is designed to be a continual source of advice, like having a personal mentor by your side.

In the book, Frank Lipman, both a medical doctor and acupuncturist, introduces the concept of Good Medicine, as opposed to what he perceived as bad western medicine. This holistic approach to wellness blends Western medical practices with non-western medicine principles, focusing on natural healing, prevention, and lifestyle changes. Lipman organizes his approach into what he calls the Good Medicine Mandala, a framework to achieve balanced health through six key areas: Eat, Sleep, Move, Protect, Unwind, and Connect.

Here’s a quick overview of these six pillars:

1. Eat: Prioritizes nutrient-dense foods to naturally nourish the body.

2. Sleep: Stresses the crucial importance of quality, restorative sleep.

3. Move: Advocates for varied and regular physical activity for body and mind.

4. Protect: Encourages minimizing exposure to toxins and chemicals in food, air, and water while boosting the immune system.

5. Unwind: Focuses on relaxation and effective stress management.

6. Connect: Emphasizes building meaningful social relationships and emotional well-being.

Lipman’s Good Medicine is deeply influenced by Chinese medicine, integrating key principles such as balance, prevention, and the body’s natural healing ability into his framework.

First, Chinese medicine is rooted in the idea of maintaining balance and harmony within the body, with nature, and in the flow of QI (vital energy). Lipman’s focus on achieving equilibrium through diet, movement, sleep, and emotional health mirrors this belief in maintaining harmony, similar to the balance of yin and yang in Chinese philosophy.

Second, just as Chinese medicine tailors treatment to each patient’s unique constitution, Lipman emphasizes personalized healthcare. He advocates for understanding an individual’s body, genetics, lifestyle, and environment—moving away from the one-size-fits-all approach often seen in Western medicine.

Third, the preventative nature of Chinese medicine, which treats imbalances before they manifest as disease, is reflected in Lipman’s philosophy. He encourages lifestyle changes—such as diet, mindfulness, and movement—to maintain health and prevent illness over time.

Fourth, Chinese medicine views the mind and body as interconnected. Practices like QI Gong  or Tai Chi emphasize regulating QI to calm the mind and strengthen the body. Similarly, Lipman promotes mental and emotional well-being as essential to physical health, advocating practices like meditation and stress reduction.

Finally, Lipman’s belief that “the primary care provider is you” resonates with the Chinese saying "求医不如求己" (qiú yī bù rú qiú jǐ), meaning “seeking help from doctors is not as good as seeking help from oneself.” This underscores the importance of self-care and taking responsibility for one’s health, rather than relying solely on external medical interventions. Ultimately, your health is in your own hands.

If you’re unfamiliar with the core beliefs and philosophy behind Chinese medicine, I highly recommend this book for its wonderful blend of Eastern and Western perspectives on wellness.