I love crying. I cry easily for some tiny things. Most of my friends and exes have witnessed and teased my very active lacrimal glands. Survey says people most tend to shed tears when they feel sad for the loss of valuable things or when they feel their self-esteem has being injured. They both happened to me. I would cry for a broken toy when I was 5 and cried for a low grade when I was 8. As ages grow up, with the increasing number of frustration I have encountered, my skin has grown thicker. My tears still come out easily though, but usually for some new reasons. I cried when I saw two people getting married or the birth of a baby, even if the wedding is actually in a movie and the newborn is a kitty or puppy. On our way of growing up, the more tragedies as well as the sad side of our world we witnessed, the more precious those ordinary, happy moments seem to be. This is why people say a man’s mind should become tougher, while the heart should become tendered.
The recent two times that triggered my tear glands were in this summer. When I was in China, I took a trip to Jiuzhai Valley (a nature reserve and national park with the elevation from 2000- 5000 m). There, I met a tour guide named Silang. On the road to the top of the mountain, I, and some other tour members, couldn’t help crying when he talked about his experiences that he said he would never forget in his life. It was on May 12, 2008 when the Great Sichuan Earthquake happened, he was working on a tour bus, then he and his 20 passengers saw the earth suddenly ripped open in front of them. He led the group jumped off the bus and sprinted to the central of a grass land to wait the terrible disaster to end, as he believed the soil is stickier than the concrete road which may increase their chance to survive. After the earthquake was over, he and the 20 travelers walked on foot two days and nights and finally arrived the town where had rescuers. What they had seen on the way was astonishing and totally different than yesterday —- it’s simply nothing. No more beautify views, villages, just flat land and countless scars. Before that day, none of them knew each other, they were travelers from different places of China. After that day, the shock of witness the calamity and the support they gave each other to hold on to finally make to the end gave them something in common. Most of them kept in contact with each other after the trip till today.
The other time made me touched and burst into tears was a story I read on Vista Story (one of my favorite Chinese news magazines). The story is about the whole process of the suicide jump of a 21-year-old girl. When at 10 a.m. the girl first appeared on the top of a 10 floor building, only a few people have seen the scene. Those people called the police and try to persuade the girl not to jump. Couple hours later, people gathered around increased and so did gossip. “She won’t jump. She would already have if she really wants to”, said some voices. Some even yelled at her “Come on, just jump. The air cushion is already here, you won’t die.”, “Yes, jump. No more dramas, I’m tired”. Among all the chaos, there’s a weak, husky voice kept say, “Don’t jump, kid, come down first, we can talk”. The voice came from a 84 years old man, Bin Lee. Lee didn’t know the girl, he happened to see the scene when his nanny wheeling him around the gardens after lunch and he thought he need to stop the young girl. He leaned to his wheelchair, trying to stand up to make himself taller and waved his arms toward the girl, gestured to her not to jump. Because his voice is too weak, he’s afraid the girl could not hear him. He was too old. He was actually hard of hearing that he couldn’t even hear what people around him were saying. Considering his health condition, the nanny wheeled him home an hour later. He wouldn’t know a while after his left, the girl jumped. She fell on the edge of the cushion first then bounced off and hit the ground. She died on her way to hospital.
Above are the recent moments that made me in tears and had been haunting in my mind since then. I can’t explain clearly what had caused me crying, maybe it’s just love. Maybe it’s the trust and warmth between people or the concern that one stranger has showed to another stranger, they made me cried. When my professor said in the class that the highest level of marketing is love (sorry I forgot the exact words :P), I nodded heavily in my mind. It’s maybe old-school and maybe much harder to express it in the practice than it sounds, I still believe this is the only thing that makes our world better.