As a solo traveler with some psychological obsessions, the author have plenty of items that have accompanied him throughout his travels. The roads walked with these inanimate objects, whether it be shoes, backpacks, or umbrellas, become so nostalgic, that the author has began to share with them more memories than he has with, well, normal people. In what would be perceived as unusual for most normal people out there, the author has in essence began to develop what he would sincerely term emotional bonding with these inanimate objects, out of mutual support and camaraderie of traveling.
But inanimate objects, even more so than friendships that fall apart when physical locations are changed, has the habit of disappearing, breaking down, and no longer serving the useful purposes that they were originally purchased for. Without a permanent residence to pile up these items of nostalgia, the author has to start discarding them, in the process holding back tears as memories shared with them slowly reappears in his mind. The emotional value of the object in question, then, far outweighs the financial value the markets assign it, as the memories are deeply personal and non-commutative.
This property was very much proven for the author when he was trying to get his British-made, now inoperable laptop sold here in Taiwan for some extra cash. The vendors at Taipei's biggest electronic market offered only about 10 USD worth of hardware piecemeal prices for the machine. Knowing that he will eventually have to succumb to such low prices (it is still more than zero, after all), the author still chose to hold on to the laptop at the moment. He wanted the laptop by his side just a bit longer, so that the memories can be relived a few more times, before it is completely gone with some poker-faced engineer.
It is extremely relevant that the author is having this epiphany right on the day of Qingming Festival, a traditional Chinese holiday of tomb-sweeping and ancestor remembrance. For fear of further alienating readers with his distinctively anti-religious sentiments, the author will not overtly endorse the statement that "tombstones and graves are mere inanimate objects being worshiped as symbols." Yet, lets be honest here, for many, the term "ancestors" is no longer associated with any living person, instead becoming some placard with names for with social obligations require some sort of respect to be paid.
Indeed, the author would easily wager thousands to say that normal people, who perhaps have not even seen the names engraved on those ancestral tombstones, are ever tomb-sweeping because of actual emotional connections with the people for which the tombstones belong. And even if there are any, it does not come close the kind the author has with his broken laptop and other inanimate travel companions. This was particularly the case when the author found himself at the unusually crowded Taipei Military Cemetery, where thousands of fallen soldiers are being visited by their living relatives on this day.
The religious obligation of worshiping one's ancestors, even if completely unknown, only serves to detract from the possibility of emotional connection. Going through a hated routine can only make one hostile to the idea of learning more about the routine and the reason for the routine's continued existence. The logic here is same as those of family churchgoers becoming more non-religious over time. And for the military families, Taiwan's current drives to de-Sinicize itself makes it even less relevant that the fallen, who fought for a unified republican Chinese nation against the Japanese and the Communists, are celebrated in anyway.
For the author, witnessing the rather unemotional tomb-sweeping routines taking place in the crowded Cemetery, it is a bit of a dismaying moment. The tomb-sweepers, themselves unexposed to the severe political environments under which their ancestors became unfortunate cannon fodder, cannot understand the passion with the buried have fallen with and the significance of the ultimate sacrifices they have made. The fallen, during their entire lives, would not have known about the current shape the society they leave behind shall take. They would have breathed their last breaths knowing that they died for the right cause.
It is unfortunate that the society that they left behind can no longer agree with them 100%. Amid the ongoing student protests quickly taking on a bent of independent Taiwanese identity, the fallen soldiers' sacrifices no longer emotionally resonate with the general populace. But the author asks, should we so quickly discard their existences and belittle their memories? Should they have no place in this modern society that has come a long way so independently? Maybe, just maybe, the people can still realize that emotional connections can be made with a cause that is not only relevant, but noble and worthy of remembrance, some half a century later...
But inanimate objects, even more so than friendships that fall apart when physical locations are changed, has the habit of disappearing, breaking down, and no longer serving the useful purposes that they were originally purchased for. Without a permanent residence to pile up these items of nostalgia, the author has to start discarding them, in the process holding back tears as memories shared with them slowly reappears in his mind. The emotional value of the object in question, then, far outweighs the financial value the markets assign it, as the memories are deeply personal and non-commutative.
This property was very much proven for the author when he was trying to get his British-made, now inoperable laptop sold here in Taiwan for some extra cash. The vendors at Taipei's biggest electronic market offered only about 10 USD worth of hardware piecemeal prices for the machine. Knowing that he will eventually have to succumb to such low prices (it is still more than zero, after all), the author still chose to hold on to the laptop at the moment. He wanted the laptop by his side just a bit longer, so that the memories can be relived a few more times, before it is completely gone with some poker-faced engineer.
It is extremely relevant that the author is having this epiphany right on the day of Qingming Festival, a traditional Chinese holiday of tomb-sweeping and ancestor remembrance. For fear of further alienating readers with his distinctively anti-religious sentiments, the author will not overtly endorse the statement that "tombstones and graves are mere inanimate objects being worshiped as symbols." Yet, lets be honest here, for many, the term "ancestors" is no longer associated with any living person, instead becoming some placard with names for with social obligations require some sort of respect to be paid.
Indeed, the author would easily wager thousands to say that normal people, who perhaps have not even seen the names engraved on those ancestral tombstones, are ever tomb-sweeping because of actual emotional connections with the people for which the tombstones belong. And even if there are any, it does not come close the kind the author has with his broken laptop and other inanimate travel companions. This was particularly the case when the author found himself at the unusually crowded Taipei Military Cemetery, where thousands of fallen soldiers are being visited by their living relatives on this day.
The religious obligation of worshiping one's ancestors, even if completely unknown, only serves to detract from the possibility of emotional connection. Going through a hated routine can only make one hostile to the idea of learning more about the routine and the reason for the routine's continued existence. The logic here is same as those of family churchgoers becoming more non-religious over time. And for the military families, Taiwan's current drives to de-Sinicize itself makes it even less relevant that the fallen, who fought for a unified republican Chinese nation against the Japanese and the Communists, are celebrated in anyway.
For the author, witnessing the rather unemotional tomb-sweeping routines taking place in the crowded Cemetery, it is a bit of a dismaying moment. The tomb-sweepers, themselves unexposed to the severe political environments under which their ancestors became unfortunate cannon fodder, cannot understand the passion with the buried have fallen with and the significance of the ultimate sacrifices they have made. The fallen, during their entire lives, would not have known about the current shape the society they leave behind shall take. They would have breathed their last breaths knowing that they died for the right cause.
It is unfortunate that the society that they left behind can no longer agree with them 100%. Amid the ongoing student protests quickly taking on a bent of independent Taiwanese identity, the fallen soldiers' sacrifices no longer emotionally resonate with the general populace. But the author asks, should we so quickly discard their existences and belittle their memories? Should they have no place in this modern society that has come a long way so independently? Maybe, just maybe, the people can still realize that emotional connections can be made with a cause that is not only relevant, but noble and worthy of remembrance, some half a century later...
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