Dear Sanmao

Last night, after I turned down the team-building event and the team dinner, I was on the subway home alone when I saw this Douban topic: “How do you get past the feeling that life is meaningless?” The first post in it recommended a reply letter from Sanmao. It reminded me of a reply letter I read a long, long time ago on the ONE app. That one also said that the advice for living alone is not to stay in a state of being only “one person”: even if you just keep a potted plant, you have to remember to water it.

I found the book and read it. It collects her letters with readers from newspapers and magazines, and it goes on until 1990. Words from 30 years ago still feel so warm. It’s a bit like the Noon Mailbox column: most of the letters are about the frustration, loneliness and confusion of life. What is the difference between 30 years ago and now? In her replies I also saw the same helplessness the Noon editors show, but she kept encouraging her readers to love life, even though she took her own life in 1991.

Dear Sanmao Sanmao 6 notes

Ms. Sanmao: I am twenty-nine this year, unmarried, a clerk at the lowest level of a customs brokerage firm. Often, after work, I go back to my small rented room and face a life that is quite poor, both materially and spiritually, and I feel that the value of being alive is very… I’m sorry, I cannot put my gloomy mood into words. I feel very inferior. Please tell me, what is the ultimate purpose of life? Someone as lowly as me (my looks are too plain), with limited ability at work, with no special interests I can name, and no man has ever been interested in me. I really envy you. I wish I could live like you, but I can’t. Please write more books for me to read and make my life richer, or else I really don’t know what joy there is in being alive. Wishing you a peaceful spring. limited ability, so many incorrect labels to describe yourself. —— An unhappy girl

Unhappy girl: Reading your short self-introduction, I was quite shaken. At twenty-nine, right in your youth, you used a whole string of words — lowest level, poor, gloomy, inferior, plain, lowly, From my own experience, I have also thought again and again about what the meaning and ultimate purpose of life really are. For now I have only one answer, a very simple one: “to seek true freedom,” and then enjoy life. Unhappy girl, your heart is not free, is it? Of course, I have not reached complete transcendence either, but the words you wrote in your letter, I no longer use on myself, even though, if we compare, we are about the same. If I were you, the first thing I would do is expect more of myself and value myself more, sweep all those strings of self-belittling words out of my life in one go, and never look down on myself again. You have a decent job, you can afford to rent a room, your looks are not bad, and outside of work you know how to go further and explore the meaning of life. These are all lovely things. Why do you feel lowly? You feel lowly because you are not looking at yourself through your own eyes, but through the utilitarian eyes of society in general. That is a great pity. Someone who does not appreciate themselves will find it hard to be happy. Of course, from your letter it is easy to imagine part of how you feel. Your ability to express yourself is not weak. In your words I can clearly see a single woman in the city, helpless and sad about life. This helplessness is not shallow; it deserves to be taken seriously. To be very practical, and leave aside empty methods: if I lived in what you call a “tiny room,” if it were me, the first thing I would do is decorate my room. I would paint the room a bright white, make myself a beautiful curtain for the window, put an ordinary little radio by my bed, build a bookshelf in the corner, and give the light bulb a warm, cozy lampshade. Then I would go to the flower market, carefully pick a few potted plants that are pleasant to look at, and put them by my window. If I still had money left, I would buy a few reproductions of famous paintings — the poster kind — and hang them on the wall… Fixing it up like this would not, by my estimate, cost more than four thousand Taiwan dollars. Of course, apart from the radio, if you make everything yourself, you save the cost of hiring workers, and life becomes much more fun. A beautifully decorated room is the first step to enjoying life and changing your mood. For me, it would no longer be a tiny room. Then, on payday — if I were you — I would spend a very small amount on myself and buy a piece of clothing that is beautiful and practical. If I felt my mood was not bright enough, I might well go to a hair salon and spend a hundred Taiwan dollars to trim the hairstyle that never changes all year, try a new look, and give myself the joy of something fresh. The month after, on the next payday, I would pick out a few light-colored cosmetics for myself, or buy a new pair of shoes. Of course, the salary still comes every month, and after work there are four or five free hours. Then I might sign up at the YMCA to learn a language, flower arranging, or some other class that interests me. Going to class two evenings a week, without pressure, is another way to change your surroundings and enrich yourself. You see, if I were you, I would slowly be changing. I go to classes, and maybe I make some friends. Since my little room is so beautiful, maybe now and then I could invite friends over to sit and talk about our lives and our dreams. Slowly, I would not feel so inferior anymore. I would have the courage to meet kind and decent people (there are still many, many people like that in society), and I would find that everyone is quite ordinary — but lovely, just like me. I would also find that a beautiful life does not need much money at all. I would also stop caring whether men are interested in me, because my own life is getting richer bit by bit. I would be too busy enjoying myself — why think about all that? If I were you, I would stop waiting for Sanmao’s next book. I would write my own notes, for my own enjoyment. Slowly I would find that what I write has its own style and charm, and that I am really a lovely woman. Unhappy girl, please take action! Don’t rely on other people to give you happiness. First go and decorate your room. Push yourself to do it, and you will find it is not as hard as you imagine. And interests are something you can go looking for: try this, try that, and once your heart decides it likes something, cultivate it and make it your pastime after work. But I still feel that the deepest joy in this world is helping others, not only enjoying yourself in your own world — of course, enjoying your own life is also very

important. First imagine that you are someone else, and help yourself build up confidence. Make up your mind to change your current way of life, liven yourself up, and don’t let your life keep slipping away at a loss and in sadness. At least you have to try, try with all your strength, all right? There are many, many ways to enjoy life, but the point is that you must act; just dreaming about it won’t work. Next time you write to me, sign it “a happy girl” and delete that “un,” all right? Your friend Sanmao

◆ Self-love without self-pity

Many times my unhappiness is not because of loneliness, but because there are too many things I “have no choice” about that I cannot break through, and too many interests and pursuits I have to give up because there is not enough time. In fact, I am very much at peace with a quiet life of a good book, a long night and a cup of hot tea.

◆ Writing is not hard

You are only sixteen, and your letter does not complain about life even once. You only say that you like to write. How rare and precious that is, because most of the letters I receive are complaints from people who “don’t know how lucky they are,” and reading them is very discouraging.

◆ Dear Sanmao

Over the past ten-odd years, I have received tens of thousands of letters from strangers. As I open one after another, I see only one kind but very lonely soul after another. Me included, loneliness seems to have become a contagious disease, and after a long time you get used to it. Once in a while, another person gives me some warm friendship, and the tremor it stirs in my heart reminds me again: “In fact, who can really bear loneliness? We just have no other choice.” Of course, I don’t ask for that much, not so much that I stop carrying myself.