Even now, the feelings of my childhood days, the feeling of walking on those roads...
My first path was a small alley, a lane fenced with reeds and bright red hibiscus bushes. My father, fearing that I—a toddler of one or two years old learning to walk—would slip and fall, had laid mortar and bricks on the path. It was only a very short stretch connecting to the village road, just five or seven steps, but each time I walked through it, I felt secure and supported by my father's love and protection.
The small lane welcomed me into a world much larger than my house, the beautiful riverside, the hibiscus blossoms that were usually within my sight. It began with the village road, leading to the fields, the river, the radiant sun rising from the distant horizon, the grasshoppers scurrying about in the evening on the embankment, the shimmering purple of the wildflowers, allowing me to meet countless villagers hurrying to the fields at dawn to plow and hoe…
Back then, the village road was muddy and slippery during the cold, drizzly winter days. I carried my sandals and walked barefoot on the muddy road to attend first grade at the village temple. I touched the soil of my homeland, following the footprints of the villagers and buffaloes that had gone before me. Sometimes, I could still feel the warmth of the people and buffaloes who had gone before me. I always silently thanked that warmth, the warmth that helped me walk steadily, filling my heart with more love and tenderness… I always thought that those who went before me must have wanted to leave me a little warmth…
From the village road, I emerged onto many wider paths. "The world originally had no roads; roads were formed by people walking on them repeatedly." I deeply understood and appreciated the most straightforward meaning of Lu Xun's words. Although I hadn't known his words throughout my childhood, wherever I went, I maintained the habit of slowly looking at my feet, reflecting that I was walking on millions of footprints that had been left behind. I was walking on a path pioneered by the first person who ventured to explore it, and hundreds of thousands of others who expanded and clarified it, turning it into a trail, a grand road… I was walking through countless hours of sweat, tears, aspirations, hopes, and sometimes even despair and misery. The footprints of those who suffered, those who were happy, those who hurried, those who took their time… But they have helped make my path today clearer, wider, and always warmer and more confident.
Later in life, I reflected on the story of "the road"—which once existed within me in its most literal sense—and realized that all our "paths" are actually stories of "the road." There are so many paths, so many forks in the road that we choose. The destination we reach depends on our choices, our awareness, our experience, our enlightenment, our judgment, and if possible, whether you are adventurous or wise, be the one to forge your own path. But you certainly cannot deny history, you cannot deny that the path you have traveled bears the footprints of pioneers. You cannot deny that the path you have had to take, to reach your current experience, has involved stumbling and paying the price…
Internet users now often use the term "turnaround," referring to a sudden, abrupt change in perception, thought, thinking, and action. Yes, a turnaround. You still have to return to the path you were on to reach the finish line. Or you still have to take a different path to get to where you want to go, but how can you deny that you've had a journey alongside us, or perhaps, on larger roads, a path laid out by our predecessors?
So, no matter what, let's always express gratitude, even if tomorrow we might go our separate ways…
Illustrative image: Source material
