Well-meant Words
Liang Yuchun

Confucius' disciple Zengzi said, 'When man approaches death, his words are good and true.' Quite right. After spending their life in a complete muddle, people often do come out with a memorable saying on their deathbed, which strikes one as extremely wise and poetic. Goethe thought that the most wonderful sound in the world was the bawl of a new-born baby, but I think the ramblings of people as their end draws nigh are equally worth savoring. The other day I bought the posthumous works of Mr. Liang Juchan, and reading the book at night, I saw that the last words of his Last Words were: 'It goes on, yet it's over.' When I closed the book and stopped reading I felt truly stopped, in my tracks.
When we see the way the universe goes over onward, like 'the mighty Yangtze flowing day and night', we do think of it as never ending. Even if the universe were to be destroyed, that would only be a stage in its evolution. Yet when we look at the detail, there is nothing in the universe that does not pass away, never to return—the rosy cheeks of young maidens is hardly the sole example. It is commonly said that flowers will bloom again, while youth once gone is gone forever. But this year's carpet of pretty blooms thrusting up into the sun is definitely not last year's carpet of blooms. If on the grounds that this year's flowers make as good a display as last year's you can claim that last year's flowers enjoy eternal youth, then there is nothing to mope about, for at any given time there will be the same number of lads and lasses in the world.
In so many years' time the present universe will have changed beyond recognition, in which case will not this universe then have been extinguished? So-called growth is in fact extinction, because what has grown is no longer what it was. The ten-year-old me and the now me are as different as chalk and cheese, so I can say I was cut off in my boyhood. Our preachers like to go on about the end of the world, when in reality any day you care to mention is the end of the world. Our socially oriented sages, for their part, fully understand this principle, but only say with a smile, 'birth following on birth is what is called the Change', which shows how good we Chinese are at keeping people happy. Personally, I think it a much better idea to delve into the aspect of 'death following on death', and see what little amusement we can find there. Once we realize that we die every day, we won't see any point in going about the bothersome business of committing suicide, and we will have grown in character to be the equal of the egg-eating Zen master and the wine-swilling monk Lu Zhishen. How liberating that must be, to make a big sweeping bow to all the congregation of the faithful!
What I have said is not meant to encourage people to fold their arms and not get down to a job of work: in human history those with true accomplishments have all known their endeavors were in vain. Zhuge Liang's mind was too clear to harbour illusions, he was aware that he was playing a losing game, yet he was still willing to 'bend himself to the task, and to on till he dropped'. This is what is called 'having human stature'. If you feel there is nothing more worth doing than sitting still, then you may ponder paradoxes for a lifetime like a philosopher, and it is all right too even if you miss out on the mediating. That things should go on yet be over, be over yet go on, is the nature of the universe. Supposing we want to build a dream palace that suits our inclinations in this world of dreams and phantoms, the fact is that one day we will have to shift some bricks. The wise man finds contentment wherever he goes, precisely because he knows there is nothing he must stubbornly cling to, and yet the high priests still like to hold their strings of beads, otherwise they are straws blown in the wind.