Alone but not lonely

     If being part of a group without forming cliques is a state of being, then being alone without feeling lonely is also a form of cultivation, and thus, a state of being.

    Some say: loneliness is a person's revelry, and revelry is a group's loneliness. I think that everyone, regardless of their background, will experience periods of loneliness and solitude throughout their lives. It's just that everyone's attitude towards loneliness is different, perhaps only depending on their level of self-cultivation. Some people, when faced with loneliness, are like ants on a hot pan, restless and agitated. Others find the tranquility and composure of "walking to the end of the watercourse, sitting and watching the clouds rise."

    For a cultivated person, as long as their mindset is peaceful and serene, then no matter what they encounter, no matter where they are, I think they can handle it calmly. Like Zhou Botong in Jin Yong's novel *The Legend of the Condor Heroes*, who, during his long days trapped in the Peach Blossom Formation, created the Empty Fist. This is a martial arts fanatic's choice to dispel loneliness. Like Li Xunhuan in Gu Long's novel *The Sentimental Swordsman and the Ruthless Sword*, who, in endless loneliness and pain, painstakingly carves a woman's portrait, burying it in the snow after finishing, then continuing to carve. This is a passionate man's way of alleviating loneliness through longing. There

    is another group of people who, for a living, perhaps come from barren lands thousands of miles away to pan for gold. This place was originally a desolate wasteland, but later, abundant oil resources were discovered. Suddenly, people from all over flocked here, only wanting to return home in glory with overflowing wealth. This is only suitable for accumulating wealth, but it cannot retain the hearts of strangers. The reason is not that homesickness swayes them, but that this place is not a place to stay for long. Perhaps the current value of this place lies only in its resources, which can bring these gold miners more wealth than elsewhere. This allure is fleeting. Once the resources are exhausted, those who have lingered for so long will scatter like monkeys falling from a tree. You can call them pragmatic, opportunistic. But the survival strategy of "whoever provides the milk is my mother" can't always be masked by empty words. Life always takes what we need from us while we're alive, or demands it from us. Because "whoever provides the milk is my mother" might be a person's reliance when venturing far away. This process of yearning for something and then abandoning it is like a woman's journey from favor to loss. Youth will always fade, beauty will always change. After all, the gold diggers who came here and the one who was attracted by beauty didn't initially intend to stay with it, so there's no question of love.

    This group of people came to this tiny place for their goals, engaging in what they might have already been doing. Thus, the once neglected town became exceptionally prosperous because of their participation. As for these people from all over the world, they were arranged into different positions and different corners by their livelihoods, industries, and professions. Because they were merely passersby from beginning to end, neither dominating nor controlling, but simply participating, adding a touch of liveliness to this once-desolate town, and injecting some of the prosperity of its heyday.

    Now I want to single out a group from this group. They work on sparsely populated, desolate mountains, enduring arduous work, harsh conditions, and little contact with the outside world, yet their wages are quite generous. They might be someone's son, someone's husband, or someone's father. Besides work, they either soak their loneliness in alcohol, gamble it away with cards, or dilute it with eating, drinking, and merrymaking after descending the mountain.

    However, there is another group who uses their own unique ways to dispel loneliness. They buy needles, colorful threads, and blueprints for reference. Among these are paintings of peonies symbolizing wealth and prosperity, paintings of the Qingming Scroll, paintings of Zheng He's voyages to the West, and more—virtually everything imaginable, appealing to both refined and popular tastes. Here, we won't look at the black grime that might not have been completely removed from their fingers, nor will we admire the skill level of their embroidery. We'll simply savor their tranquility and remarkably natural behavior in their prolonged silence. This is a real-life example that can be found in classical literature. In the TV series "The Sword and the Love," adapted from Gu Long's novel, there's a man named Pangolin, a burly man skilled in Iron Shirt martial arts. He's not only good at mending clothes but also adept at embroidery. When asked about his embroidery skills, he replies that the most famous chefs in the world are men, and the most famous embroiderers are also men. The questioner may have asked unintentionally, but he answers with such composure. Whether his words are true or not, we won't verify. I'm simply here to find a way to prove that men can also embroider.

    These men may not be as skilled as Pangolin, and they certainly can't compare to the famous male embroiderers he speaks of. But these people who live most authentically have found a way of life that enhances their aesthetic appreciation and a soothing balm for their souls during these long and tedious days. In their spare time, they use needle and thread to weave their own peace and sketch their own loneliness. These men and women, young and old, who live most authentically, also use needle and thread to depict the family bonds and longings within their loneliness during these long and tedious days.