Cycle of life

Autumnal air hums with the scent of possibilities. I envisioned this year as a tapestry being woven with vibrant threads. Moments of self-doubt transformed into fuel for curiosity, and the pursuit of balance a journey where I celebrate each step in a long journey, not just the destination.

The campus scale is grand. We need to ride a bike or take a bus to go to school. Tiresome as it sometimes be, I really enjoy cycling in a tailwind, so easy and flowing. But even more so, I embrace the headwind. Possibly because it’s a reminder that with a strong will and determined pedaling, I can overcome any obstacle. The weariness in my thighs after a quick ride? It seems to me a badge of honor, and a temperamental predominance of enthusiasm over the love for ease.

Despite the fatigue of thighs, I am fervent about cycling around. There are moments of wind mixed with aroma of trimmed grass, moments of camaraderie and romance, laughter along the way stretching in the wind. And there are moments graved into eternity—the humid lights of electric bikes clothing itself in the mist and glitters iris of inner tranquility, desires and genuine emotions, while crispy air gusting in my shirt at eleven o’clock in the evening, conferring sobriety upon me.

The beginning of this semester was a whirlwind. Principles, textbooks, and a sea of new faces. Prose lines, English articles, and history of English literature—things I’ve repeatedly encountered were more than sophisticated with each words thick with profundity and the weight of human emotion. All of them kept me, a mere novice, totally spellbound.

In contrast, the study of law was a plunge into a totally different world, where precision and logic take the dominance. Behind each bizarre case, a growing sense of suspicion of human nature seized me. The motive for crime, the subtle emotions, the unpredictability of human nature, the gray area of society, and it is there that I capture the remnant of the society, where naked truths emerge. In every statue, I see how facts of life are compacted into terms, how the foundation and pillar back the whole society, and how countless human behaviors condensed into highly abstracted juristic principles—crystals of societal symptoms and tendencies.

There were days when I felt like a juggler, trying to keep multiple balls in the air, only to have them come crashing down around me. Sometimes the continual hefty workload dooms to break me down, but after a short period of refresh and recharge, everything seems not that bad like before. And these are the times when I would cycle alone, to an unacquainted road, with unshackled mindset. For those moments, I would like to look up to the sky not just the floor, would like to be submerged in familiar air, and go back to the old times and comfort of my home.

I remember one particularly grueling week, when I had back-to-back assignments in both English and Law. As I sat in the library, surrounded by towering stacks of books, I stumbled upon a quote by Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr.: “The life of the law has not been logic; it has been experience.” Those words struck a chord within me, reminding me that the study of law, like the dip of literature, is not just about memorization of criteria and statues. It is about understanding the human experience, about grappling with the intricacy of life, finding significance in the chaos, and finally, delving into the truism that it is sets of rules that governed the very fabric of society.

For most of the time, I cycle to classrooms, and no matter how bad the weather is, the road towards would always loom large. Crowds of students, never ringing the bike belt, hustle and bustle through the traffic. And I see fatigue and down-spirit, from the faces of students coming towards, from the marginal sounds of the noisy axles of old bicycle, and from the vibration of those heavy bags as the bikes crush the speed bumps.

Nevertheless, I see arduous and youthful optimism refusing to be dampened, from the early morning at 6 o’clock, from the unstoppable streams of bikes, and from the smiling boy who’s carrying his girlfriend. Every bike track a way leads to uncertainty, but also a dotted line leading to Rome.

“A rut is a declaration of the unfinished state, conveying the age of us, the fine, metallic texture of sighs and hesitations.”

To thrust into a world where I had to navigate the complexities of adulting, is sometimes growing pain and bling spot. To embark on the journey of learning and exploration is akin to pedaling through life on a bike. The road to maturity loomed as large and long as the cycling journey. At times, one is blessed with the gentle push of a tailwind, gliding smoothly through the academic and intellectual landscapes, progressing with relative ease. Yet there are inevitable moments when the headwind of challenges and uncertainty buffets against you, testing your resolve and strength as you strive to move forward.

And I would cycle, cycle and cycle, comes rain or shine. with gratitude and divinity for the countless chances I have to explore different roads and discover the tenacity and courage I’ve never thought I envisaged.

Life is like the cycle, or rather, we are cycling and cycling, so long as we desire.

The first year was just the beginning, a prologue to the story that is still unfolding. I coast past freshmen wobbling through our fossilized bike tracks. The road hums beneath us all—asphalt scored with infinite wheel hieroglyphs that tell of Blackstone's commentaries weathering into Dickinson's dashes, of Magna Carta's clauses mutating into Morrison’s autumnal imagery.‌

No matter how harsh the weather is, the path ahead is always inviting, while growth happens with each pedal stroke. The true epiphany struck near the philosophy building’s sundial. My bike, that humble steel steed, had been drafting an eternal palimpsest:

Front wheel carving tomorrow’s legal arguments into morning frost.

Rear wheel erasing yesterday’s poetic self-doubts in rain puddles.