Beijing Lights: Every Day a New Yearning for Life

It’s a delight to talk with Ma Nanru. Poetic and philosophical observations are always slipping into her speech. In particular one thing she said left a deep impression on me. It wasn’t included in the article so I’d like to share it here: “Human beings are like ants. Some believe themselves to be extraordinary and aspire to high status above everyone else. They don’t seem to realize that even if you are king, you are only a king in the kingdom of ants.”

Ma Nanru, 57 years old, from Beijing, violinist

I was baptized in 1989 and became a Christian that year. Since then, I’ve shed my physical body and shut the channel between myself and this earthly world.

What does that mean? It means I no longer cling to the world and have no more expectations for it. It has made life so much easier.

People’s greed is what makes things complicated. They chase after money, buying this and buying that. I have no more attachments to this world, so I can skip all that tireless chasing. I earn just enough money to get by, I eat just enough food so that I’m full. I’m happy to wear the same clothes for 1o years. All my energy can go into the things I truly love to do. This freedom is an infinite source of power.

My true passion is music. I was 43 years old when I started to learn the violin.

In the beginning, I was just accompanying my daughter to her violin lessons. She was only five when she started learning from an esteemed violinist.

I remember the first time the instructor started to play. I was immediately taken—the musical notes crawled into my ears, burrowed deep into the cavity of my bosom, and seemed to explode inside me. My eyes followed every tiny movement in the teacher’s hands, my ears soaked up every note like the desert absorbing even the tiniest drop of moisture.

I decided to learn alongside my daughter. No matter how busy I got, through high winds and thunderstorms, I never skipped a single lesson.

I need to work during the day, then take care of my daughter after work, not to mention all the house chores. It’s only after my daughter goes to bed that I can draw some time for practice. I practice late into the night and often fall asleep still holding the violin. When I wake up, the first thing I do is reach for it and continue practicing. In the early morning, I like to go to a nearby park and play. Strumming the chords as the birds chirp and a soft wind rustles the leaves, the music feels sublime.

My daughter learned the violin for 10 years, and I persisted like this for 10 years. Every day I kept the same practice routine, only sleeping for three hours a night.

The teacher was deeply moved by my commitment. He later rented a storefront to sell violins that he made himself. He asked me to come work in his store. I’ve worked there for over a decade now, and it’s the most important thing in my life. I arrive early each morning and carefully wipe down every violin. Sometimes even after I get off work, I like to stay in the shop and enjoy its tranquility.

I’m not a “violin seller.” I would never play just because a customer asked me to. I don’t play the violin for others, I play it for myself. I always like to make sure my hands are washed and that my mind is at peace before I play.

My daughter is the same as me, passionate about violin. Even when she was little, I never had to remind her to practice. I never tried to preach to her, instead leaving her to figure things out by herself. Unlike most parents, I don’t center my world around my child, but try to have my own life. The day when my daughter was born, I looked into her eyes and whispers: “You are you, I am me. We are not one. We are separate individuals. We will respect one another.” All this time, we’ve been more like friends. Whatever she has on her mind she likes to share with me.

Last year, we stayed home together for a few months during the pandemic. She told me about a boy she had on at her high school. She said that the boy was an avid runner and he often ran on the school’s sports fields, lap after lap. She said one of the biggest joys of high school is having someone to think about every day.

Her dad was a runner too. Back then he was tall and thin, never hunching, always full of energy.

We were neighbors growing up, living in the same hutong. I married him at 34. When our daughter was 1 and 2 months old, he went to the United States by himself to pursue his American Dream. People called him heartless for leaving me and my daughter behind. But I can understand. Going to America was his dream. I know that he was willing to sacrifice everything for freedom.

All these years he hasn’t come back once. I’ve never asked him for money. I raised our child all by myself, filling the shoes of both mom and dad. I helped take care of my parents-in-law too.

When we call, he never talks much about his life in America, and I don’t ask. I know that life isn’t easy for him. It took him 20 years to get a Green Card. He’s worked mostly low-end jobs. He used to be a driver, but lost his job due to the pandemic. He now works as a bagger at a vegetable market, five days a week, eight hours per day, making 17 USD per hour.

Even though he is not earning much money, he is happy. He said life there is simple. His relationships with others are simple, no need for unnecessary disputes. You work a day, you get paid a day. Pork and shrimp is cheaper than in Beijing. He often asks me to come and join him.

It’s not that I haven’t thought about it. In the early years, my daughter was too young. Now that she’s grown up, my mom is getting old and I need to take care of her. Maybe one day after she’s moved on, I’ll go to America and reunite with my lover.

Yes, I still refer to him as my lover. I’ve waited for him for over 20 years, nobody here can understand. My older sister says that he has another woman in America, probably more than one. But I think as long as we never got divorced, I still have responsibilities toward him, toward our marriage.

I don’t resent him. I don’t resent anyone. Hatred is a bloodstain. Hating someone is equal to killing them. Instead of hating him, I’d rather love him.

The mug I use every day is a souvenir from our church’s one-hundredth anniversary. On it is a line that reads: “I love you with an eternal love.” I think to myself, this is how God loves us, and so it is how I’d like to love others, how I’d like to love everything.

Edited by Dan Xin Huang

READ: Beijing Lights: Every Day a New Yearning for Life

Image: Wei Wenqi