Qiu Miaojin - Last Words from Montmartre

I’m putting this eleventh letter in my desk drawer. Details. I. Can. Not. Face. I’ve already conveyed the emotions and feelings that would make you understand. As for our love, we’ll write a more perfect novel someday when there is more content, okay? I won’t send this to you after all. J’ARRIVE PAS!

MAY 23

Having climbed to the peak of the mountain and drowned in a valley of tears, I’ve experienced too much trauma. But having overcome it, I can live honestly and with dignity, no more self-criticism. I can become my best self, a person I can admire.

I can’t assume anyone else will ever love me more. What Xu bestowed upon me was already too much. I can’t excuse it as luck and expect luck to bring me another beloved while I go on kidding myself it’s still possible for me to care for another, that there’s something else out there I want and life needs me to experience a relationship again. I’m clear about what my heart really “wants” and whose home it wishes to return to.

A purity. That’s what I want from life: to devote myself to a lover, a teacher, a profession, an organization, a way of life. This is how I want to live.

Sincerity, courage, and honesty will deliver humanity. I’ve realized this since coming to France. With sincerity, courage, and honesty, one can face death, extreme physical pain, and even extreme psychological pain. One can resist persecution from individuals, society, or government. To live in preparation of adversity and finding ways to preserve your core values — this is what it means to learn “how to live.”

I think the hardest thing in life is to “respect others” because only after you’ve attained a thorough understanding of someone can there be any real respect to speak of. Without “wisdom” there can be no real sadness.

And “fate.” “Fate” is fraught with mystery and determines the shape life takes. One can only overcome fate by being open to this mystery while understanding one’s own unique circumstances. I must be stronger than fate, stronger than my circumstances, stronger than others, stronger than human tragedy, stronger than pain and disease, stronger than the life or death of my body, stronger than my talents. The state of being alive is the most beautiful manifestation of all that is true and good, and to die is to become “absolute” and “eternal.” Only by examining one’s innermost self can will and desire merge in love. This “examining one’s innermost self” isn’t psychotherapy. It’s essentially philosophical and spiritual. The “merging of will and desire” is the subject of my thesis.

Scott said that if someone can’t peacefully adapt to society or to nature, then they are destined to be unhappy.

Materialism, utilitarianism, possessiveness, selfishness, aggression, destructiveness, domination… I can’t stand these characteristics in others. These qualities saturate society, causing me to become unhealthy and wounded, and so I run away. It’s simple: I can’t show my true self to people because I am “other” to them, and this agony warps me. “Otherness” prevents society from accepting your true self so that you are powerless to be your true self. This is why a so-called “social life” has been so traumatic for me and why I’ve never been able to live the life of authenticity and dignity that I crave. Perhaps the reason I can’t tolerate those qualities in others is that I possess them myself.

I am a “passionately artistic” person, and I would like to lead a bucolic country life; or maybe what I’ve really longed for is a monastic life. Are the two compatible?

It’s criminal that people can’t tolerate each other. While being alone, life is empty, meaningless. These two facts cause me much agony.

I believe there’s no degree of pain I cannot bear as long as I know I want to live. If only my life did not need Xu, that I did not need anything from her and did not have any expectations of her and did not retain any lingering threads of “possessiveness” toward her, then I could love her the way I want to love her and respect her with fairness and equanimity.

Objectivity. The objectivity of a great artist like Tarkovsky.

I will live the life of a monk. A twenty-six-year-old monk.

The reason I love Xu, why I’ve always loved her and will always love her, is because of the purity of her character.

MAY 25

I have no doubt that people are stupid and mean. Everywhere people are stupid and mean. I don’t understand why humans are so stupid and mean. It’s impossible to comprehend.

I have to grow up. I won’t be stupid and mean anymore, I promise. I’ve purged all the anger and resentment I could and have no cause left to purge, neither love nor hate. I feel as if my burden has lightened. Maybe from clarifying each detail over the phone? I needed to vent my resentment and maybe Xu did too. If a couple’s resentments aren’t vocalized, then their love can’t flow. The mutual resentment in our hearts is the main reason our love cannot move forward.

Passion. Is there really no hope for humankind? I don’t believe it. Passion, suffering, and more suffering to bear. But you must be passionate to know how to live and find what’s most meaningful to you and know that there are those you really love. Then the pain will ease and you’ll have no regrets.

Only suffering and death can tell you what’s real.

Xu isn’t mature enough yet, she hasn’t suffered enough. She couldn’t possibly understand what’s real.

It’s not true that suffering linked to passion can’t be overcome, that it can’t be transcended. Religion, nature, sports, people, daily life… it all matters. To find the meaningfulness you want to achieve. And when you’ve found someone you truly love, then you understand what’s real and can continue to live.

Tarkovsky was right. The responsibility of the artist is to stir people’s hearts and minds toward loving others: to find the light and the true beauty of human nature within this love. Religion can rarely show us what fate means in concrete terms. Yet everyone needs to be understood and this understanding is found within each individual’s fate, one’s life journey that clarifies the way. I’m not a therapist or a philosopher or a priest. I’m an artist.

If Xu came back to Paris, even for just a day, I would make her happy, so happy. All I want to do is make her happy. I want to do whatever it takes to make her happy. I want her to know that I understand her and that I love the way she loves. I am the right person for her, for her life and soul. I want her to see that she is wrong about me and that it was a mistake for her to believe I can’t make her happy: a mistake for her to believe I can’t live a happy, pleasant life; a mistake for her to believe I was bound to scorn her and hurt her, and how wrong she was about my innate character. I want to give her a fuller picture of who I am, who I am completely.

I want to take her on my bike to the woods. I want to make breakfast, lunch, and dinner for her; listen to music with her before bed; read poetry to her, and while I work during the day she can wander away and do whatever she likes until dusk when we’ll walk along the Seine or stroll through the streets…. I want to go to the Louvre with her, and at night visit the park in Villette; I want to take her to see Angelopoulos movies and to listen to Argerich’s wild concerts; I want to take pictures of us around the fourth arrondissement as we sweep the dust from the cracks of our everyday lives…. If she could stay longer, I would finish my novel and write poetry for her, and make art for her…. I want to give her a life that inspires her and is delicate and tranquil and gentle and makes her content. Only such a life will make her happy, and only such a temperament will enrich her life…. Physical intimacy isn’t important; no need to process anything, nothing intense, no promises of passion or love. I’ve grown and reached a place where I can give her the love and life that she wants…. I want us to feel close again on a spiritual level.