Light Seeker | 找到你的光

Share five things you’re good at.

Today, while I was reading Emotional Happiness, there was a passage that really spoke to me.

The author shared something he once told his students: the one thing he most hoped they wouldn’t believe is that “the teacher is always happy,” or that “by the end of the year, his emotions will stay at their highest point the whole time.”

One student even reminded him,

“Teacher, you have to be careful—what if one day we see you unhappy?”

He pointed out that behind this comment is a hidden assumption: that a “happy life” means never feeling sad or having unpleasant emotions at all.

When I read that, I felt really touched.

We often only see the “good side” of someone—their positivity, their optimism, their strength. And from there, we start imagining that they must always be that strong, that clear, that focused.

I once had a good friend tell me that, just from our conversations, I seemed like someone very focused and very positive. But as we kept talking, she slowly discovered that I also have low points. I also feel confused. I also get hurt.

Reading that part of the book gave me a kind of relief.

Because in the end, we’re all human.

As long as we’re human, we will have a bright side—but we’ll also have moments when we need to be gently held and cared for.

And if, in our whole life, there are one or two people who are truly willing to listen, who can hold space for our not-so-positive emotions, our hearts can finally relax a little.

I think these feelings are also related to the transitions I’m going through lately. In friendships, in work, in my studies, and even in church life, I’ve been readjusting my time, my roles, and my pace. Sometimes I ask myself:

In a place where there are so many people and so many activities, is there still a way of relating where we truly see the person in front of us?

Not judging them by their service, performance, role, achievement, or by what other people say about them—but seeing them.

I’ve realized that the moments I find most precious in life are often connected to this feeling of being truly seen and genuinely heard.

For example, there was a time when I felt pretty low, hurt, and not emotionally okay.

I went to the Southern Branch of the National Palace Museum to meet a friend for a walk.

That day, she was willing to walk with me slowly and listen as I shared what was on my heart. She also told me about her nursing work—how she accompanies junior colleagues as they grow—and shared her thoughts about her thesis, education, and training new staff.

That time together made me feel like I wasn’t being treated as “the always positive one,” but as a whole person—

someone who can be both strong and fragile, both clear and confused.

There was another day when I met a different friend for the first time at a 711.

We just sat in that small space, ate a few snacks, and talked. It might have looked casual from the outside, but to me it was very meaningful.

As she shared, and as she was also willing to listen to some of my deeper thoughts—about how I see people, and what I long for in truly knowing and understanding others—that simple 30 minutes did not feel “casual” at all.

It reminded me that there are still people in this world who care about the person right in front of them, not just about what that person does or how they appear.

For me, the people and moments I treasure most have something in common:

They don’t rush to label me.

They don’t hurry to summarize my life.

Instead, they are willing to sit down, to walk with me, to listen—so that in front of them, I can be someone who still believes in the light, but can also honestly admit that I do get hurt.

And because of encounters and companionship like this, I’ve come to feel even more deeply that—Happiness is not the absence of sadness.

Happiness is that even in sadness, confusion, and seasons of transition, there are still people who are willing to stay by your side, to really look at you, and to listen until you’ve finished what you need to say.