Dancing the Tango on the Edge of Death

Xuefeng

Those who have never experienced despair do not truly understand life. Likewise, those who have given up and taken their own lives in despair do not understand it either. Only those who have endured suffering, faced countless hardships, and can still fight alone in loneliness, confronting death without fear, who laugh in the face of adversity, and who dance the tango on the edge of death—these are the ones who truly grasp the depth of life.

This article is the sixty-first article of The Revelation Chapter. In traditional Chinese culture, the term "sixty-one" refers to the completion of a sexagenary cycle, or "huajia" (花甲), which marks the end of a 60-year cycle. At the age of sixty-one, one has already completed this cycle and is standing on the edge of death. What happens after sixty? How should one walk the path that comes after?

There was a villager named Bu Hui, whose death was foretold for the morning of his sixtieth year. On that fateful morning, the Grim Reaper sent a messenger to fetch Bu Hui for his reincarnation across the Three Realms Transit Continent. Upon arriving at Bu Hui's home, the messenger found that Bu Hui had already left. Following the footprints he left behind, the messenger eventually saw him at the foot of a mountain. The messenger delivered the message of death to Bu Hui, but to the messenger's surprise, the message was bounced back. Confused, the messenger observed Bu Hui closely and saw something strange. Normally, people at sixty are frail, with dull eyes, stiff minds, and shallow breaths. But Bu Hui was full of vitality, joyous and vigorous. He carried a basket, picking mushrooms as he sang loudly, imitating birdsong from the treetops, racing with rabbits, chasing butterflies, and picking wildflowers to tuck into his coat pocket. His carefree and innocent manner resembled that of a child. His life’s nonmaterial structure had not followed the normal course, and as a result, the message of death could not enter his being. The messenger had no choice but to return to the Grim Reaper and report: "Great Lord, Bu Hui is acting abnormally. His life structure does not match the message of death. He cannot be brought back."

The Grim Reaper responded, "I am aware. Bu Hui's ability to dance on the edge of death shows that he has retained a childlike heart and still loves life. I will grant him an additional sixty years to live, allowing him to reincarnate once more in his original body. When he reaches 120, you may come to collect him again."

Dancing tango once on the edge of death, with energetic, powerful steps—this is the wisdom of life.

Living to the age of sixty is no easy feat. So, once we reach sixty, why not dance the tango at least once? If not now, when?

There was an elderly woman who, for the sake of her husband and children, always claimed to love fish heads when they ate fish, leaving the fish meat for them to enjoy. When she became ill and was hospitalized in her old age, her children, eager to show their filial devotion, brought fish heads for her to eat. At this moment, she revealed the truth: "I didn’t really love fish heads. When I was younger and our family was poor, we rarely had fish. Someone had to eat the fish head, so I just said I liked it. But now, you can bring me some fish meat instead."

The elderly woman finally danced her tango on the edge of death.

Many of us live our lives under the weight of love, hatred, and sorrow. If we never dance the tango, we may regret it for the rest of our lives.

Everyone wears a mask to varying degrees, and this mask binds us, leading to great sorrow and bitterness.

In reality, it is not only after sixty that we stand on the edge of death—every age is the edge of death. If you look at the daily news of deaths caused by illness, car accidents, wars, or sudden disasters (such as the 9/11 attacks or coal mine explosions), who can confidently say that they are not standing on the edge of death at this very moment?

We are all on the edge of death. So why not dance the tango? Perhaps by dancing it just once, our lives may be extended. But one thing is certain: by dancing it, our life's nonmaterial structure will evolve toward truth, goodness, and beauty.

If there is someone you have longed for in your heart but have never expressed your feelings to because of various constraints, why not take this chance to dance the tango? Go to them and say clearly, “I like you so much!”

If there is someone you harbor hatred for, then dance the tango and tell them boldly, “You old fool, I hate you!” If circumstances make it inconvenient, you can call them, send someone to relay the message, or take advantage of the internet to write an article mocking or ridiculing them, letting out the anger in your heart.

If there is someone you admire or worship, send them a fax, make a phone call, write them a letter, or compose an article to express your feelings in time.

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Do not wait, because we are all standing on the edge of death. If we do not seize the moment to dance the tango, we will regret it deeply and forever.

Do not endure needlessly. Forget sayings like “the beauty of restraint lies in tolerance,” “forbearance is a virtue,” “tolerance brings calm after the storm,” or “the true principles of the universe are Truthfulness, Compassion, and Tolerance.” These are all hypocritical words designed to suppress human nature. After five thousand years of existence, the Chinese nation still struggles in misery, largely because of the over-glorified virtue of tolerance. Minor grievances left unchecked lead to accumulated anger that eventually erupts like a volcano. As Lu Xun said, "Either explode in silence or perish in it." We should neither explode nor perish. Instead, start by addressing the small injustices and express our love, hate, joy, anger, dissatisfaction, and resentment promptly. By not suppressing human nature, society will progress toward civilization, truth, goodness, beauty, rationality, and harmony.

So, dance boldly on the edge of death!