"How to make the world happy"
What a title.
That's the kind of thing either someone who founded a religion and became its guru would say, or someone who fell hard for a fairly intense cult.
This guy keeps writing dense, roundabout blog posts — and now he's founding a religion?
Jokes aside, I do sometimes wonder how everyone in the world could be happy. It's the same kind of question a lot of people ask in adolescence — why are we alive? Or rather, it's basically that.
Religion is clearly one strong option. Christianity, Islam, a cult — if everyone believed the same faith, that would do it.
So what can "I" do to make the world happier?
My answer — skipping a lot of the thinking in between — is: love and be loved by the people I'm involved with.
It's not an unusual idea; plenty of people think something similar.
Loving everyone you deal with is a stretch (I can't do it either), but with people you're somewhat deeply involved with, I think it's a good approach.
With that mindset, I recently met up with friends I hadn't seen in a while. Three of us talked. One conversation stuck with me, so I'm writing it here.
Friends A and B were there. Both are close friends of mine.
First, a discussion between A and me.
Simplified: A is diligent, hardworking, and earnest. He wants to go independent someday and make a lot of money. (Needless to say, there's nothing wrong with that idea itself.)
A: "In the future I want to make as much money as I can. Setting aside crime and things that are ethically wrong, isn't it fine to just pursue my own interests without thinking about other people?"
Me: "Hmm, there's something to that, but I think the world needs a sanpo-yoshi mindset — good for all three sides. Love matters."
(I wasn't sure what kind of answer he expected, so I deliberately replied in abstract terms. Still, that really is how I think.)
A: "But I believe that by pursuing my own interests, it ends up helping other people too. Business talks about helping the other party, but you still need calculation, right?"
Me: "(Sounds a bit Adam Smith?) That might be true. But you said you'd exclude crime and ethically wrong things, right? What's the standard for that?"
A: "Laws and contracts, I guess?"
Me: "Yeah. But doesn't that leave ethics uncovered? That's why I think the wrapping standard is 'love.' What people call sanpo-yoshi. For example, in all kinds of business buy-and-sell relationships, I think having love could be the baseline."
(Written out like this, from the other person's side it probably sounded sudden, scary, and way too abstract.)
That discussion paused there. What I want to focus on is the next phase, when B joined in.
B is rough around the edges but warm-hearted. He's not great at debate and says things that don't always connect — but that somehow gets the feeling across, which I like.
A: "Huh. You've changed a lot if that's how you think now. Back in school, wasn't growth your top priority, and didn't you look down on people around you? Including me?"
Me: "Hmm, maybe. Of course I didn't look down on you, but yeah, there might have been that side of me."
B: "There's no way he looks down on you, A. Trust that. (etc.)"
B then talked about how much the three of us trust each other. (He's a passionate guy.) A seemed a bit frustrated that the point had drifted, but both A and I listened gratefully.
A: "Okay. But B, not long ago you were only thinking about girls and drifting around, and now your thinking's solid — you've totally changed too."
B didn't really answer; he just laughed and drank his draft beer.
That's roughly what happened. Sorry it's long. (We talked about plenty else; this is only a slice.)
Anyway, to convey how I felt, I held out my hand on the spot, shook hands firmly, and said I was glad we were friends and that I trusted him.
You might think that's corny and overheated communication — but I think that kind of behavior is meaningful, whether or not it's "correct."
Even if the other person already knows you trust them, I think you still need to say it out loud.
Especially with people you can trust to receive your affection, I don't hesitate to say how I really feel.
Even though we disagreed, he understood that I trusted him, and said, "Thanks. Of course I know you think that way — that's why we can argue like this."
A wonderful relationship. Peak youth vibes.
Back to the point: talking through this, what I felt was that people don't change completely.
The me from student days that he pointed to is basically what's written in this blog post.
Back then I was always restless for my own growth, and thought belonging to the communities I was in would ruin me. (Maybe A feels something like that now.)
Still, that was only one side. I don't think the elements of what I think now were completely zero then.
(Same with B, who was also called out — he was careless with the opposite sex, sure, but he'd always treated people with affection and can see things deeply. People just don't always see him that way.)
To A back then, I was probably like Li Zheng in "The Tiger Poet" — someone I also wrote about in a previous post.
That reading isn't completely off, but it's only "there might be that element." People aren't that simple. A person is a collection of many elements.
Digressing a bit: I don't share the mindset of people who react to that story with something like, "Ah, cowardly pride and shame at one's existence. Yeah, I wouldn't want to become that." As I keep saying — it's not that simple.
In the end, this exchange reminded me again how hard it is for people to understand who you are.
I feel like I've drifted far from the title "How to make the world happy," but I'll leave it here for now.
© 2021 ZUUHE