Throughout the world people are yearning for spiritual inspiration as well as for a purpose to their lives. Nowhere is this search more urgent than in China where, since the death of Mao, people have become increasingly desperate to find religious meaning and substance. The success of cults such as Falun Gong reflects this hunger. Many are seeking alternatives to materialism, science, Communism and the institutional religions.
When I was eleven years old my parents placed me in a Catholic convent in Hong Kong as a boarder. Soon I came under the influence of Catholic nuns and was quoting the Bible. During one of my rare visits home I discussed my newfound faith with my grandfather (Ye Ye) and he compared our respective beliefs.
‘As a Chinese from the old school, I have always had difficulty sticking to any one religion,’ Ye Ye said. ‘Even though I believe in reincarnation because I am a Buddhist, I honour my ancestors and read the I Ching and the Tao Te Ching
‘Unlike Muhammadans or Christians, we Chinese have trouble with the western view that there is only one true God. Why can’t Muhammad be accepted as a prophet as well as Moses? Why does one belief have to exclude another? Why can’t all the religions merge together and become one?
‘As a boy, your father got into big trouble with an American firm once because he wrote on his job application form next to “Religion?”: “Catholic, but willing to become Methodist as well, if necessary.” The manager summoned him into his office and called him a “rice Christian”, ready to turn his back on Catholicism for a job with a Protestant firm.
‘ “Why must there be only one true sect?” your father protested. “Why can’t I be a Catholic as well as a Methodist? Why can’t I be both?”
‘But the American manager was angry and your father didn’t get the job. So he moved to Tianjin and worked for me instead.’
In the following chapters I shall outline the differences between east and west on a number of fundamental topics. Because some Chinese words are non-existent in English, just as various English words are absent in Chinese, the only way in which to grasp certain concepts that are unique to China is by leaping across national barriers and allowing for the possibility that truth may be reached in a language other than one’s own.
One Chinese book which will open realms of thought beyond the usual western parameters of perception is the I Ching. Other ideas that play dominant roles in Chinese thinking are Confucianism, Taoism and Zen Buddhism. I illustrate traditional concepts such as qi, feng shui and yin/yang with incidents from my personal life. In each case I hope to bridge the cultural divide between east and west, so that westerners will be able to understand the Chinese way of thinking, discover its roots and see how they resemble or differ from their own. Having spent my first fourteen years in China, and the rest of my life in England and America, I can understand the mind set of both world views.
When my father sent me to study in England in the 1950s, there were few Chinese students in Europe or America. Nowadays, more and more are migrating to the west in search of education, freedom, prosperity and happiness. Deregulation of telecommunications, growth of international trade, ease of air travel and the Internet will ensure increasing contact between east and west. Many childless would-be parents from America are adopting unwanted Chinese baby girls. Intermarriage is also on the rise. My own son married a Brazilian woman whose parents came from Austria and they have an adorable baby boy. The destiny of such infants will write a new chapter in the future relationship between China and the west.
What will that destiny be? The proverb shou zhu dai tu
Religion and spirituality are ambiguous words with widely differing interpretations. Watching the Tree attempts to deal with these terms on a scientific and rational basis, without dogma or superstition. The great German philosopher Martin Heidegger once wrote, ‘Whatever and however we may try to think, we think within the sphere of tradition.’ But what if I were to introduce to western readers a new and entirely different tradition? Could their thoughts become transformed and undergo fresh and radical change?
Philosophy starts with wonder and knowledge is power. Aristotle said, ‘All men by nature desire to know.’ Indeed, Chinese and Westerners alike are all searching for rational and intelligent answers. Somewhere it is written that every Chinese wears a Confucian thinking-cap, Taoist robe and Buddhist sandals. Like my two previous books, Watching the Tree is autobiographical and gives you a glimpse into a Chinese mind. You can see the basis of my personal philosophy and the reason why I think the way I do. I hope it will provide you with an introduction to eastern thought, one that you can use as a stepping stone on your individual path towards the development of your own beliefs.
Enjoy! I wish you happiness.
2 Light at the End of the Tunnel
Like many Chinese scholars, my grandfather (Ye Ye) was an ardent follower of the I Ching. He viewed it as his Bible: a book of wisdom as well as a book of divination. A few months after his death from diabetes, I came across his copy of the I Ching and a small bundle of sticks wrapped together in a piece of red silk. At first I thought the sticks were chopsticks but they were too thin even though they were all of equal length. Later I discovered that they were stalks from the yarrow plant.
We were living in Hong Kong and I had been allowed to come home from boarding school to prepare for my forthcoming education in England. It was the first time I had been home since Ye Ye’s funeral. I was sleeping in his old room and it was still full of his belongings and the odour of his cigars. Although I was euphoric at the imminent prospect of going away to a new school in a foreign land far from my stepmother, I missed my grandfather. The sight of his much-thumbed copy of the I Ching, yellow with age, brought a sudden pang that caused the tears to course down my cheeks. On opening its cover, I saw his name, Yen Qian Li
Ten years passed. I graduated from medical school in London and was mired in a tormented relationship with my tutor, Professor Decker. Karl was a bachelor, sixteen years older than I, and already established in his scientific career. It was an impossible affair: Karl would vacillate from day to day between commitment and escape. Although he had warned me about his emotional instability, I was convinced I could weather his depressions and make him happy. He was terrified of marriage but tempted by my youthful optimism. His rejections were invariably followed by lengthy poetic letters tinged with love and regret – letters that bound me to him even as he verbally protested that we had to part.
This situation continued for seven years. I took a job in Edinburgh to distance