live to the point of tears

that is apparently a quote from albert camus - "live to the point of tears". i imagine he knew a thing or two about tears. or life. or both. i don't think the one means much without the other. which is precisely the point. i would rather live boldly, bravely, dance wildly, love deeply, fall swiftly, cry out loudly in joy and pain than do any of those things less fully or be meek and avoid the many tears that will inevitably result from all the passionate jumping, dancing, falling, loving.

i say this to comfort myself now. all of my clever strategies failed me today. even my own mantra in moments! and i found myself completely blindsided by sadness so powerful it took my breath away. i am also comforting myself with mediocre red wine and chocolate. in the not so distant past, i decided that life was too short for bad wine. and that i would only drink really delicious wine. but this policy has been modified for two reasons: (1) i live in china, most of the wine is bad and (2) i do public interest work and cannot actually afford to live much of a fine wine lifestyle, even if i aesthetically aspire to do so. the modified policy is "drinkable wine", which is to say it is not necessarily always delicious and excellent but it is always drinkable, usually good, but never bad. it's a compromise. but so is life. especially life in china.

i just got home from a fascinating dinner with two of the most venerable legal scholars on rule of law china - one chinese, one american. they have known each other for many years and call each other "brother". they were both born in 1931, 4 months apart. and they have both been engaged in china's legal reform for as long as it has been going on. i was moved to tears just seeing their camaraderie. and it was such an honour to be at the table while they were discussing the current state of criminal law reform in china or the implementation of the amended lawyer's law.* it's most remarkable how life can find ways to remind you of what is good and true and make some part of your soul sing even when you are close to quietly drowning in your own personal pool of heartbreak.

i had a similar experience walking home from the dinner. i needed to buy some fruit, but had been crying softly in the dusk as i walked down the hutong. something about turning the corner did me in. but i pulled myself together and i went to fruit lady. she was especially friendly tonight and i was the only one in her stall. the stall cat was there, sitting up on a ledge rather than prowling about amid the cabbages as usual. this cat was really content and seemed to be smiling down at us in that way that cats can smile, purring. i asked if the cat had a name. fruit lady said "mi mi". i asked if it was the "mi" in "mifan" or "rice", but she said that all chinese cats were named "mimi". (i though about explaining that i have an imaginary pet chinese cat named "pangpang" (fatfat), but realized that even if i could say the words, it wouldn't translate.) fruit lady then made a two-syllable sound, a kind of "mewmew" and mimi responded making the same sound. they did this back and forth a few times as she weighed my bananas, apples, and winter dates. i was very impressed and rather delightedly exclaimed, "you are really having a conversation! did you teach her that?" fruit lady shrugged, and asked if i had already eaten. i assured her that i had. i said goodnight to her and to mimi the cat. and i couldn't help but smiling at life as i walked away.

of course i broke into heaving sobs after i closed the door. but i was able to remember my mantra, recall the evening's moments of perspective, and focus on small tasks like putting away the fruit and doing the neglected breakfast dishes to pull myself together. i also found myself thinking of this camus quote. because, truth is, i wouldn't live any other way. may i always live to the point of tears.



* i have been berating myself lately for not writing enough about serious things. and i think this exemplifies my problem. my entry point - for connection, meaning, pondering is always people and their stories. what is more compelling than personal narrative?!? even though it was an interesting discussion, i was most moved by the way these two men would grasp wrists or pat one another on the back or toast. and i end up recounting that they called each other "brother" and not the substance of their comments....