------ by Mookoo Liang in April, 2002
"Something ordinary, something special;
something imaginary, something sensible."
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Every morning I spend about 20 minutes jogging at a senior high school near my house. When walking toward the school, I pass by a very charming pond on campus.
The pond is charming in a mysterious way. I am delighted to see it with my eyes, and I enjoy thinking of it when it is "out of sight." Its attraction, existing outwardly over there and inwardly in my heart, is some sort of "wholeness of beauty" -- composed of quite a number of beautiful things.
The pond is well fenced around, partly with a concrete wall and partly with steel bars, not to mention the deep ditch just outside the bank. On the narrow bank are some of my favorite trees such as lemon, banana, and plum trees. There are, of course, some shorter bushes and some very tall weeds.
Neither these plants nor the fences keep me from seeing the beautifully designed and constructed pavilion on the island in the middle of the pond.
The small island, with such an eye-catching pavilion standing on it, is surrounded by greenish blue water in the pond. I like this pond very much. There are no fierce billows here, but glistening ripples on the surface of water.
In the water there must be lots and lots of fish, as the signs "No fishing!" imply. (Both fish and fishing are significant symbols for many people, aren't they?)
Another two signs read: "Water deep & dangerous!" I am unable to swim. But every time I pass by the pond, I am attracted to those graceful swimming birds -- a pair of geese and about a dozen ducks.
At this pond, most of the ducks (called Green Heads) are dark in color; only two of them are as bright as the two geese, which are snow-white. They all swim in a leisurely and lovely way! There seems every reason to believe that this pond is their Garden of Eden.
In addition to the ducks and geese, I sometimes see a particular bird flying out of the woods behind the pond.
That kind of bird (also pure white, rather thin, with long legs and a long beak; called Bai Lusi in Chinese) used to be the best of my natural friends when I was a teenager helping graze a cow in the country. Unfortunately, due to environmental changes, the population of Bai Lusi has been greatly reduced these years.
So the bird, supposedly dwelling somewhere in the woods, doesn't come out very often. I miss it very much in some particular seasons.
Oh, my! I'm missing quite a few beautiful things: Although I go to the nearby school for a jog every morning, I seldom pay a true visit to the pond; although I am interested in meditating (or daydreaming), in no way do I feel really free to stay in such a picturesque scene all afternoon.
Like many others tied up in this busy earthly world, I seem to have lost my paradise. But I still have strong feelings toward the pond. I feel it practical to regain my own "secret garden" by visiting the pond more often.
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In fact, there is a bridge (named Rainbow and shaped like one) which leads to the small island in the middle of the pond. Before crossing the bridge, I need to walk across the front yard of a destroyed building.
According to educated seniors in this village, the building lying in ruins was originally used as a library, and it was named Wu Gui Lou just because there were five osmanthus trees in front of it.
Now the five osmanthus trees that produced tiny sweet-scented flowers are no longer seen, and the old two-storied library is almost completely "out of sight." Yet in my mind there always remain lots of things, some of which are so special. For example, the broken walls of Wu Gui Lou remind me of the devastating 9-21 earthquake (in the year 1999).
I hate to say that not all my memories are beautiful. They do include things good and bad, happy and sad!
Anyway, I just want to reform my way of thinking, in addition to improving my physical condition. I will spend more time jogging in the nearby school; and if possible, I will go near (and ponder over) the mysteriously charming pond every day.
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The horrible 9-21 earthquake devoured numberless valuable lives; it also destroyed such beautiful things as Wu Gui Lou and the pavilion on the small island in the pond.
However, reconstruction was necessary . . . .
Although thinking of the quake made me sick and sad, pondering over the pond (just like jogging) made me healthy and happy!
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Well, I was born a few months ago. No sooner had I been born (or hatched) than I fell into a huge pond -- Please don't be confused! I've turned into a full-grown frog now.
Before I grew up, I was just a tiny creature with a tail, but without hands or feet. I was called kedou in Chinese, or tadpole in English.
As a newly-hatched tadpole, I fell into a state of "complete ignorance" at the very beginning -- Is ignorance bliss? -- Yet, very soon I found myself deep in the water, either floating or swimming.
Thanks to my long tail, it made me a quick swimmer!
For quite a long time I enjoyed myself alone in the water. My semi-transparent body was perfectly wrapped up by the water, which was also semi-transparent.
In such a liquid my eyesight was limited, yet I could hear something special in the distance. Furthermore, I could breathe freely in such a "water-world"! -- I could move around my familiar "corners," and I could explore a little bit farther every single day.
Traveling into an unknown world was indeed the most exciting thing for me, though my travel in this huge pond could be very risky.
The fact is, my life journey was risky but I was quite lucky! I was lucky to escape from all kinds of dangers and troubles. When I had been alone for some time and began feeling lonely, I ran into a half dozen creatures that looked like me.
"Where are you from, friends?" I asked, badly in need of a friend or two.
"Oh, I have no idea!" one of them replied.
"I don't know, either!" all the others followed.
Then they asked me the same question. This startled me! I myself didn't know where I was from.
Anyway, they and I had a long and pleasant talk that afternoon. We shared our personal experiences with each other. Each of us was glad to be the others' good brother or sister.
Then, later in the same afternoon, we bumped into another six creatures of the same kind. Three of them joined us, forming a nice "brothers and sisters" group.
The other three, as I noticed, were really newly-hatched tadpoles. They couldn't swim; they had just fallen into this pond from somewhere above the surface of the water!
"Where on earth are they from?" I was burning with curiosity, in secret.
Having been with my "brothers and sisters" for hours, I thought of being alone again. So I said goodbye to them, and swam along in a different direction.
I seemed to be rather introverted. "Introspection" was, therefore, an important way of living for me. That was another type of exploration.
"Where do I come from? And where to go?" I couldn't help asking such questions. I found no answer that really satisfied me. I began to suppose that the mysteries of life were definitely beyond my comprehension.
Maybe the only thing I could do then was practice swimming. I hoped I would become one of the best swimmers when I grew up.
I swam and swam. Suddenly, I heard something very peculiar behind me. I turned quickly to hide myself, and saw my "brothers and sisters" thrown into a panic -- they were being scattered by a big monster!
"What's that? … Is that a bad fish? … Or an evil snake?"
Nobody answered me.
Before long, the ugly creature was gone, all the noises were gone, and the whole pond was back to normal.
Nevertheless, a similar event occurred shortly after. The third, the fourth, and the fifth incidents happened successively in the same pond on the same day.
Some monstrous creatures were obviously more "ugly" than others. They even caused tens of deaths at a time!
Several days later, some of my best friends lost their lives in a fatal accident. I was shocked to see that kind of "sudden change" occurring in the pond.
And three weeks after that, my own body began to change in a very strange way. One morning, the pond being silent as the grave, I woke up early and saw something extremely unusual. I was scared stiff when I saw my first pair of legs coming out of my belly.
Before long, another pair of legs (also functioning as my arms) came into sight, while my long tail quickly atrophied -- and eventually disappeared.
"Is this a normal transfiguration? … Or a harmful deformation? … What should I do -- or what can I do about it?" I had mixed feelings about what was going on. Unable to face up to my own problems, I became very upset again.
If I had not met Mr. Turtle, a very good teacher of mine, I wouldn’t have learned how to deal with such a miserable situation.
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As a matter of fact, I had been a curious amphibian, trying very hard to learn. I'd like to get not only a clear picture of my surroundings, but also a better understanding of myself.
But my learning ability seemed very limited. The only thing I knew for sure was that my knowledge could never keep up with my curiosity; the more I had learned, the more I felt I had to learn.
"Hey, Froggy!" a hoarse voice came from somewhere near the pond. I saw a strange-looking creature resting under the fruit trees on the bank. It was an old turtle (as I later learned) with a friendly smile on his face.
"You are a good student," he said to me.
"Are you sure, sir?" I didn't think I was doing well in my studies.
"Yes, you are eager to learn! You'll be a great scholar!"
"Oh, I'm just …well, if I could, I would … try harder …"
At first the gentleman-turtle embarrassed me a little. However, his encouraging words, together with his practical guidance, were great magic that fantastically promoted my life.
Very soon Mr. Turtle became my best friend and mentor!
Mr. Turtle was also an amphibian, but much older and wiser than I. He was born two decades before the 9-21 quake, and had been living in this pond for 15 years. He was very knowledgeable about the pond; he knew quite a lot about the living and nonliving things in and around the pond.
More importantly, he was so kind and generous that he would share everything good with others. Whenever I asked him for help, he gave me valuable advice, making my dull days colorful, and my ordinary place meaningful!
Sometimes he would initiate a chat like this:
"How are you, Froggy?"
"Well, so-so."
"Why, you look so down! You're badly in need of a chat right now."
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Turtle. But may I ask you lots and lots of questions at a time?"
"Don't hesitate to ask. Let's see how many questions you have."
Sometimes my questions were as many as the number of the fish swimming in this pond. Speaking of fish, some are much bigger than others. If you were fishing, wouldn't you try to catch big fish first?
I tried to raise those questions that I thought were the most important.
"What's that?" I pointed to a turning machine fixed on the surface of water near the island. The machine looked like a small watermill but kept turning at a high speed.
"It's a fish-pond pump," Mr. Turtle explained. "It forces gas into the water so that living creatures under water have enough oxygen to breathe."
"You mean even fish cannot live without oxygen?"
"Exactly. They need oxygen as well as food."
When I asked what food fish fed on and who fed them, Mr. Turtle taught me something about natural selection. He said that the famous English scientist Charles Darwin (1809-1882) had written about this idea in his book The Origin of Species.
I disliked the idea of "survival of the fittest," but I had learned that there were lots of fights among different schools of fish, and that even in the same school there was intense competition (in addition to cooperation).
Mr. Turtle told me not to be discouraged. He showed me something more interesting and encouraging.
"Do you know why that bridge was named Rainbow? Think about it."
"Yes, sir." I replied.
"That Rainbow connects the ruins of Wu Gui Lou and the beautiful pavilion on the small island. What does that mean? Have you learned the English phrase at the rainbow's end?"
"I guess I've learned it before." I said. "But would you mind making comments about those swimming birds?"
"Not at all. But first of all, please regard fish swimming (and struggling) in this pond as people living (and working) in a human society. Then, you may compare those ducks to your brothers and sisters, or your best friends."
Mr. Turtle paused and then continued, "Pay attention to the colors of the ducks. It's possible that your personality is very different from that of your good friend."
"How about the geese?" I interrupted.
"The two snow-white geese represent an intimate husband and wife. Look! Those geese are always near each other, whether swimming in the pond or standing on the bank -- By the way, have you seen the white egret (that is, Bai Lusi) flying out recently?"
"Sorry, I haven't. What would you say about the egret?"
"It stands for one's self. In Freudian psychology, there are three parts of the mind: ego, superego, and id. The bird sometimes stands near the pond, sometimes flies high up in the sky, and sometimes hides itself in the woods. Whether it is three-in-one or not, try not to lose your self."
Suddenly I felt very sorry for myself. I didn't even know where I was from. I begged for further interpretation of my life, my being! And in the end Mr. Turtle concluded that I was a particular kind of tree frog, created in my Master's imagination.
According to Mr. Turtle, my Master was now jogging again at the high school near his house, and I was going to lay eggs very soon in the branches over the still water near the edge of the pond.
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