
Resignation: The Fuel That Runs the System
There is a cruel truth we must honestly confess: if every adult in the world refused to become a cog and insisted on living only as a child of infinite extensibility, this convenient modern civilization we enjoy would collapse without lasting a single day.
The miracle of subways arriving on time every morning, clean water pouring out when we turn the faucet, and hospitals and public institutions running without a single hitch—this peaceful daily life is, in fact, thanks to someone folding away their infinite possibilities and silently becoming a standardized part according to a prescribed manual.
The massive tower of civilization is, ironically, powered by the fuel of human "resignation and standardized diligence." A world where everyone exists only as rule-breaking artists and innovators is not a society; it is chaos. Perhaps the reason society has so thoroughly killed the child within us and enforced standardization was a desperate instinct of the system for its own survival.
A Brilliant Yet Lonely Division of Labor
Herein lies the true tragedy of development: for the maintenance of society (continuity), a vast majority of rigid adults is absolutely required; yet, for the progress of society (discontinuous leaps), child-like adults who break the rules are indispensable.
If the world were filled 100% with standardized adults, that society would be stable, but it would eventually stagnate and rot like standing water. Conversely, if it were filled 100% with individuals of limitless extensibility, that society would be dynamic, but it would crumble within a few days from a lack of structure.
In the end, humanity chose a cruel division of labor. It is a tragic structure where the absolute majority of humans are tamed by the grammar of resignation to lay down a solid floor (the system), allowing a tiny minority of those who refuse to grow up to spring forth from it and jump the world up to the next level. Every convenience of civilization we enjoy is the byproduct of a combination: the poignant sacrifice of those who became cogs, and the audacious imagination of those who soared above them.
Reconciling the Two Beings Within Myself
Faced with this massive contradiction, what choice must we make? Should we curse the system and drift aimlessly as an eternal Peter Pan, or should we become an obedient part and erase our own universe?
The wisdom of life may ultimately lie in reconciling the two beings within ourselves. Even if we live by day as highly capable parts faithfully following the grammar of society, we can awaken the curled-up child within us by night to spread the wings of boundless imagination. It means strictly adhering to the rules of the system in the subway on our morning commute, while never letting the embers of extensibility—the power to flip the board at any moment—die out in a corner of our hearts.
It is a tragedy of civilization that not everyone can become a butterfly, but that does not mean we must kill the caterpillar within ourselves. Carrying the weight of an adult’s responsibility to silently sustain the world on our shoulders, while still preserving the gaze of a child who questions the world in our chest—those who walk upon this perilous yet beautiful boundary are the true "adults" who most elegantly endure the tragedy of this cruel civilization.
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