21%

It is worth wondering why so many people consider what they read from chain powerpoint sildeshows as true knowledge instead of secondary material with which to consult with people experienced in the matter.

Maybe lawyers trained with a different eye…

Some people fear failure. But things done to achieve results have 2 outcomes: success or failure or part of each. If you succeed, good. If you fail, you learn. If you partly succeed, congratulations. If you fear failure, you won’t venture forth. If you don’t venture forth, time moves ahead.

Reminds me a bit of staff from large organisations: “The less you do, the less you can fail”.

Actually, the less you fail, the less you do stuff, the less you succeed.

In essence, every failure is a step towards success. If you fear failure, you cannot get success.

Self reflection: does my success involve lying, exaggerating and harming people and the environment? Does it involve wasting people’s money for my own benefit or does it involve helping people to benefit lives? Does it involve stepping on others to reach my own goals or does it involve helping team members to achieve them? Is my success sustainable, is it a source of inspiration for generations to come, or will close scrutiny reveal malice and evil, even on a small scale?

A young artist went from his hometown in search of master artists whom he could learn from as teachers. This young artist had a talent in Chinese watercolours, and he wandered over creeks and across mountains practising his art. He plied the plains of west China, the shores of the mighty Yellow River, and the mystic fogscape of Guilin. Eventually, despaired, he settled down outside an old temple in YangShuo village.

“Why are there no masters whom I can learn from?” he signed heavily.

An old monk came out of the shadows sipping a cup of tea. “I’m no master of the arts, really, but I hear your works are truly spectacular. How is it that you cannot find a master in all of China? Why don’t you draw this temple a little something as a keepsake?”

“Sure!” exclaimed the young artist, “what shall I draw?”.

“Something simple will do”, replied the old monk. “Perhaps a teacup and a teapot?”.

The young artist dove into his sack, prepared the paints and drew a beautiful teapot pouring silky, golden tea into a simple, chipped teacup.

After a while, the young artist happily looked up: “what do you think now?”.

The old monk stroked his beard and studied the piece for a while. “I find it a little strange. Shouldn’t the teacup be on top of the teapot?”

“How can that be? Tea cannot be poured upwards!”. The young artist seemed as puzzled as he was exasperated.

“Even you know of this wisdom?”, the old monk wondered aloud. “Now go forth and find your master. Be the teacup, and set yourself lower than all the teapots around you.”

When faced with an opportunity, the result of which is entirely under your own control (cf. equities), one often asks people for opinions as to whether to take that opportunity. Many people choose to give opinions despite not having experienced that opportunity themselves. Some people who have taken that opportunity but failed also give opinions. But who should you ask for opinions? Should you ask people who do not have firsthand experience, or do you ask people who have not given proper effort and failed? Maybe you should ask those who have succeeded?

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Many older folk like to ask young people this question. Often, they are met with an occupation: I want to be a fireman, I want to be a lawyer, I want to be a doctor and so on.

This carries on to tertiary education, where students often like to read subjects that they think might help them get employed. As such, at least in Hong Kong, the faculties of medicine, law and business are tremendously popular. So much so that many businessmen have begun to lament the phenomenon that tertiary institutes in Hong Kong have become employee factories.

University funding comes from taxpayers’ money. Taxpayers, many of whom are parents, often encourage their children to become employees in ‘safe’, ‘stable’ jobs. Conglomerates in Hong Kong also give the impression that students reading a relevant major (有關科目本科生), are more likely to get a job. Given that parents and conglomerates are stakeholders in university education, universities feel the pressure to offer courses that cater to market demand. They offer accounting, business, commercial law… courses that rake in applicants, and among other things, money.

Traditions are inherited, and so are thinking processes. There is a strong belief in Hong Kong that employment is the way to go. Grandparents speak it, parents repeat it, young people implement it: 找一份好工作. Indeed, it is true; survival is necessary, and the easiest way to survive is probably to get a job. But too often, life’s journey stops there. Survival becomes the sole purpose in life. Rarely do we see people with the vision and initiative to peer out of the cloud and retake their lives under their own wing. Some people simply luxuriate in their comfortable pods, yet some people say that they must wait until they have more money until they take risks to jump out of their comfort zone. But would these people really leave their comfort zone after 10, 20 years, or do we more often see these people forced to do so?

Perhaps it is a good thing that we have so many willing employees coming out of the institutions every year, perhaps it is not. The fact remains, however, that other Chinese cities have also begun to churn out vast numbers of willing employees. Will we take change by the throat, or let change take us by the throat instead?