December 7, 2008
Dear Friend,
Thanks to Melanie McCalmont—my communications guru—I have reached people in a way inconceivable if I were to depend on the slow coach of letter-writing or publication. But what is it that is being communicated? Information? Surely not, nor any sort of useful technical knowledge, nor even insights of the kind that emanate from Yoda (Star Wars) or Sifu (Kung Fu Panda) that can illuminate the great questions of the day. Central to what is communicated is almost the unsaid between two friends, as they sit across the table, with preternatural calm, nursing their cup of warm cider. Sometimes, when I feel that a certain fatigue has set in, I say to myself and signal to the other as unobtrusively as I can, "Well, it has taken the universe 14 billion years to reach the point where you and I can sit here and talk. Shouldn't we try harder? If we miss this opportunity, we may have to wait another 14 billion years for evolution to repeat itself." Well, sometimes this trick actually works—at least, with me. It is the miraculousness of any true human encounter and wanting to make the most of it that makes me sit up.
But I am 78 years old and I can't always count on natural alertness to continue. At this point, allow me to shift my metaphor. I want to say, How can this decay of power matter when I have already thrown my pebble into the pond, creating waves that for all their feebleness reach in time the other shore—even as far as China, Colombia, Israel, Poland, Sweden, and UK? In the pond, my waves meet those you initiate with your pebble, resulting in a rich pattern—transitory, yes—but nonetheless an undeniable fact, and perhaps even one of some significance, in life and world. Thank you!
Best wishes,
Yi-Fu
[Ed. note: This letter is in response to Dec 5 greetings.]
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