——一个中年人的身心灵回望

文 / HuSir

　　如果把人生放进社会发展的某一段时间轴上回看，有时会生出一种复杂的感慨。

　　HuSir出生于二十世纪六十年代末，1991年大学毕业进入大型国有化工厂工作了8年，1995年成家立业，1998年应聘进入香港独资企业联通，2008年随着国家电信改革步伐转入电信系统，一直工作直到2022年疫情之后逐步退居二线。算起来，在电信行业工作将超过30年。乍看之下，这不过是一条再普通不过的职业轨迹。近几年经济增长乏力，当我慢慢把它与时代的节奏叠在一起时，才忽然意识到：我们这一代人的人生曲线，几乎与中国加入WTO后的整体腾飞高度重合，自己所谓的人生高光时刻也与此息息相关。

　　我们不是刻意赶上时代的人，却几乎一步不落地走在那条加速的轨道上。

　　回头看，那确实是一段带着上升气流的年代。二十世纪九十年代，中美、中日关系回暖带来了中国通信行业的快速铺开，城市面貌不断更新，个人收入稳步改善。只要肯干、能扛、守得住岗位，大多数人都能在体制与市场的交汇处找到一个相对稳定的位置。虽然那个时期计划色彩仍然浓厚，但借着对外开放的洪流，其弊端在发展这一宏大叙事中被悄悄掩盖。从这个意义上说，我们这一代，确实比许多后来者更早地站在了经济增长的斜坡上。

　　但如果只用“幸运”来概括，又总觉得过于简单。

　　因为与腾飞同步的，并不只是收入曲线，还有一种长期被忽视的内在代价。

　　首先变化的，是人们对这一轮繁荣与高速发展背后思想逻辑的反思明显不足。或者说，引领发展的自由思想并没有被认真追问。许多人并没有意识到，这本可以成为阴霾国人民进一步思考自由人生追求与信仰根基的重要契机。事实上，WTO之所以能够成立，本就建立在一整套制度与思想基础之上。就连每周五天工作制，也源于这一逻辑。在此之前，阴霾国人甚至不敢相信一周可以休息两天。直到今天，为劳动者争取这些权利的工会力量，仍然显得相对薄弱。

　　第二个变化，便是由此带来的身体透支与伤害。像HuSir这样的年轻人，为了养家糊口进入外企，试图摆脱经济困境、实现某种程度的物质自由，却始终没有被引导去追求真正的自由生活。“端起碗来吃肉，放下碗来骂娘”，是那个时期的一句口头禅。人们有肉吃了，却并不真正满足；想追求自由，却又缺乏信仰与思想上的清晰引导，只能在反复抱怨中消耗自己。当欲望不断上升，而“下海经商”、拼命工作成为主要出口时，身体透支便逐渐成为一代年轻人隐性的代价。

　　在高速运转的那些年里，“扛得住”几乎成了一种默认的生存姿态。任务压下来就加班，指标紧了就顶上，很多人习惯性地把疲惫往后推，把不适往下压。夜晚的城市，“吃喝玩乐一条龙”的服务在热热闹闹地承接着职场与商海奋斗者的压力释放。年轻时不觉得什么，等到四十岁以后，睡眠开始变浅，血压慢慢上来，心口偶尔发紧，情绪也不再像从前那样容易放松。

　　后来我才慢慢明白，那并不完全是年龄的问题，而是一整代人在高强度秩序中长期紧绷之后，缺乏信仰追求、缺少心灵反思的身体所给出的诚实回声。

　　某种程度上，这也是对“物质文明是精神文明的基础”这一说法的低配式理解。之所以说是低配，是因为提出这些口号的人，本身也处在摸索阶段，对现代经济与制度逻辑的理解其实远未成熟。根本理解不了WTO的创始成员国的发展经济的初衷，不是说物质文明了，你就会精神升华，而是说，那些经历过血雨腥风的各种摸爬滚打国家的历史经验早已显示：稳定而持久的物质文明，往往建立在更深层的思想文明与制度文明之上。单纯以“物质决定意识”的线性理解，很难真正支撑一个社会的长远发展，也难以回应个人对自由生活的深层追求。

　　如果说身体的变化还算看得见，那么心理层面的变化则更为隐蔽。

　　在体制与大型组织中工作久了，人很容易形成一种高度顺应环境的能力。这种能力在很多时候是优势：稳重、克制、执行力强、能承压。但它也有另一面——人会越来越习惯先压住自己的真实感受，再去完成外部期待；越来越擅长把复杂情绪折叠起来，换成一句“没事”。

　　久而久之，很多人外表依然平稳，内里却开始出现一种说不清的疲惫感。

　　而真正最晚发生、却也最深刻的变化，往往是在心灵层面。

　　对不少与HuSir同龄的人来说，年轻时谈信仰，多半带着某种距离感。那时更关心的是岗位、收入、家庭、孩子，很少有人有精力认真追问那些更根本的问题。但走到中年之后，当身体开始发出信号，当外在轨道基本成形，人反而更容易在某些安静时刻忽然停下来，问自己一句：这些年，我究竟是在被推动着往前走，还是在清醒地活着？

　　HuSir的信仰反思，也正是在这样的阶段慢慢加深的。

　　起初只是读经时的一点触动，后来变成对“反思”“认错”“悔改”这些词更真实的体会，再后来，逐渐延伸到对整个生命节奏的重新打量。我开始越来越清楚地看到：一个人即使在外部轨道上走得再稳，如果内在始终处在紧绷、自控与不肯松手的状态里，心灵其实很难真正安息。阴霾国的管理者或许从未打算认真面对自己犯过的错误，更不要说引领属下人民去做这样的事了。国家若缺乏反思，历史往往容易重演；个人若拒绝反省，许多错误也会以不同形式不断重复。以至于中年后都不知道哪些是错误，哪些是习俗，反正就是一味的重复、重复、重复——在外人眼里就仿佛是一个僵化、顽固的古董，对人的印象如此，对国家亦然。

　　这大概也是为什么，许多与WTO一同起飞的中年人，走到今天，会同时呈现出一种颇为复杂的状态：物质上并不匮乏，经验上相当丰富，但身体开始提醒边界，内心也不再像年轻时那样确信一切理所当然。

　　我们既是受益者，也是在高速度时代中被深度塑形的一代人。

　　如果一定要给这一代一个更准确的描述，也许不能简单说是“幸运的一代”，而更像是——与腾飞同行、也被腾飞消耗过的一代。物质层面确实有所提升，但精神层面的成长，却在某些阶段被误解甚至被延迟。好在，像HuSir这样出生于六十年代的人，已经开始认真回望与反思。而少数五十年代出生的人仍然在十年文艺改革的“羊肠小道”上快马加鞭，仿佛依然生活在五十年前，即便是被踢出WTO的圈子也浑然不觉。这些人的眼光永远定睛在三宫六院七十二嫔妃的范围，能运筹帷幄的事情除了文艺改革，便是疫情期间及其之后的动态清“灵”运动。为了这篇文章不被和谐，此处省去三千字，可省不去几十万、上百万、上千万人的生命，以及几代人僵化思维模式的培育。

　　不过，回望并不只是为了感慨。

　　这些年HuSir越来越体会到一件事：真正决定一个人后半程状态的，往往不是他年轻时跑得多快，而是他在中年之后，是否愿意反思自己过往的路径，是否愿意把情绪松下来，把心重新安放在一个更真实的位置上。

　　时代的大势，个人很难左右；但一个人如何整理自己的身、心与灵，却仍然保有某种主动空间。

　　如果说我们这一代确实曾经借着时代的上升气流飞过一段距离，那么走到今天，也许更重要的问题已经不再是“还能飞多高”，而是——在速度渐渐放缓之后，我们是否还能学会安静、清醒，并且不失去内里的那一点光。就像那句温和而有力量的意象：长夜将烬，山河月明。至少用这样的一束光，照亮自己的前程，不会在充满阴霾的夜里绊倒。

　　或许，这正是许多与WTO一同起飞的人，正在共同面对的下半场课题。

　　真正的分水岭，从来不在时代，而在人是否终于开始反思和悔改。

To Those Who Took Off with the WTO — How Are You Now?

— A Midlife Reflection on Body, Mind, and Spirit
By HuSir

If one places a life back onto the timeline of social change, a certain complex emotion often arises.

HuSir was born in the late 1960s. After graduating from university in 1991, he worked eight years in a large state-owned chemical plant. In 1995 he married and started a family. In 1998 he joined China Unicom through a Hong Kong–invested enterprise, and in 2008, following national telecom restructuring, he transferred into the China Telecom system, working there until gradually moving to a secondary role after the pandemic in 2022. Altogether, he has spent more than thirty years in the telecommunications industry. At first glance, this is nothing more than an ordinary career trajectory. But in recent years, as economic growth has slowed and I slowly overlaid my life rhythm onto the rhythm of the era, I suddenly realized: the life curve of our generation almost perfectly overlaps with China’s overall rise after joining the WTO. What I once considered my personal “high points” were in fact deeply intertwined with that historical wave.

We were not deliberately chasing the era, yet we scarcely missed a step on that accelerating track.

Looking back, it truly was a period of upward lift. In the 1990s, warming relations between China and major economies helped drive the rapid expansion of the telecommunications industry. Cities transformed, personal incomes steadily improved. As long as one was willing to work hard, endure pressure, and hold one’s position, most people could find a relatively stable place at the intersection of the state system and the market. Although planning elements still remained strong at the time, many of their drawbacks were quietly covered over by the grand narrative of development. In this sense, our generation did indeed step onto the slope of economic growth earlier than many who came after us.

Yet to describe it simply as “luck” feels incomplete.

Because what rose together with prosperity was not only the income curve, but also a long-overlooked internal cost.

The first shift was the insufficient reflection on the intellectual logic behind this wave of prosperity and rapid growth. Or put differently, the freedom-oriented thinking that underpinned development was rarely seriously examined. Many did not realize that this could have been an important opportunity for people to further reflect on the spiritual and philosophical foundations needed for a freer life. In fact, the WTO itself was built upon an entire framework of institutional and intellectual foundations. Even the five-day workweek grew out of this broader logic. Before that, many people could scarcely imagine having two days off each week. Even today, institutions meant to safeguard workers’ rights often appear relatively weak.

The second shift was the physical toll that followed. Young people like HuSir entered foreign-invested enterprises to support their families and seek a degree of material freedom, yet were rarely guided toward pursuing genuine inner freedom. “Eat meat with the bowl in hand, curse after putting it down” became a common saying of the time. People had more materially, yet were not truly satisfied; they longed for freedom but lacked clear spiritual and intellectual direction, and so exhausted themselves in cycles of complaint. As desires rose and relentless work became the primary outlet, physical overextension gradually became the hidden cost borne by a generation.

During those high-speed years, “being able to endure” became the default survival posture. When tasks came down, people worked overtime; when targets tightened, they pushed through. Many learned to postpone fatigue and suppress discomfort. At night, the brightly lit cities offered endless entertainment to absorb the pressure of workplace and business struggles. When young, it seemed manageable. But after forty, sleep grew lighter, blood pressure crept upward, the chest occasionally tightened, and emotions no longer relaxed as easily as before.

Only later did I begin to understand: it was not simply age. It was the honest feedback of bodies that had remained tightly wound for decades without sufficient spiritual grounding or inner reflection.

To some extent, this also reflects a simplified reading of the saying “material civilization is the foundation of spiritual civilization.” It is called simplified because many who promoted such slogans were themselves still feeling their way forward. They did not fully grasp the developmental logic behind the founding WTO economies. It was never that material abundance automatically produces spiritual elevation. Rather, historical experience in many countries shows that stable and lasting material prosperity usually rests upon deeper foundations of thought and institutional development. A purely linear belief that “material determines consciousness” struggles to sustain long-term social progress or to satisfy the deeper human longing for a free life.

If physical changes are visible, psychological shifts are more subtle.

Long years within large systems cultivate a strong adaptive capacity. In many ways this is an advantage: steadiness, restraint, strong execution, high pressure tolerance. Yet it has another side. People gradually grow accustomed to suppressing genuine feelings in order to meet external expectations; they become skilled at folding complex emotions into a simple phrase: “I’m fine.”

Over time, many appear outwardly steady while inwardly carrying an unnameable fatigue.

The deepest and latest change often occurs at the spiritual level.

For many of HuSir’s peers, faith once felt distant in youth. Work, income, family, and children occupied most attention. Few had the energy to pursue more fundamental questions. But by midlife—when the body begins to signal limits and the external track largely takes shape—people are more likely, in quiet moments, to pause and ask: all these years, have I been consciously living, or merely being carried forward?

HuSir’s own faith reflection deepened gradually at precisely this stage.

At first it was only a small stirring while reading Scripture. Later it became a more concrete understanding of reflection, confession, and repentance. Eventually it expanded into a reexamination of life’s entire rhythm. I began to see more clearly: even if a person’s external trajectory appears stable, if the inner life remains tightly controlled and unwilling to release its grip, true rest remains elusive. The rulers of the Gloomy Nation probably never intended to seriously confront the mistakes they had made, let alone lead their people to do so. When a country lacks self-reflection, history tends to repeat itself; when individuals refuse to reflect, many mistakes keep recurring in different forms. To the point where, by middle age, one no longer knows which are mistakes and which are customs, and just blindly repeats, repeats, repeats—so that to outsiders, it seems like a rigid, stubborn antique, an impression that applies both to people and to the country.

This may explain why many who rose alongside the WTO now display a complex condition: materially not lacking, professionally experienced, yet physically encountering limits and inwardly less certain than before.

We are both beneficiaries of the high-speed era and a generation deeply shaped—and partly consumed—by it.

If one must describe us more precisely, perhaps we are not simply “the lucky generation,” but rather a generation that rode the ascent and was also worn by it. Material conditions improved, yet spiritual growth in some periods was misunderstood or delayed. Fortunately, many born in the 1960s—like HuSir—have begun to look back with greater seriousness. A small number of people born in the 1950s are still speeding along the ‘narrow paths’ of the decade-long cultural and artistic reforms, as if they are still living fifty years ago, completely unaware even when excluded from the WTO circle. Their vision is always fixed within the confines of palaces and harem-like circles, and apart from cultural reforms, the only other affairs they can mastermind are the intense ‘spiritual cleansing’ campaigns during and after the pandemic. To prevent this article from being censored, three thousand words are omitted here, but one cannot omit the lives of hundreds of thousands, millions, or tens of millions of people, nor the cultivation of rigid thought patterns across generations.

But looking back is not merely for sentiment.

In recent years HuSir has increasingly realized something: what truly determines the second half of life is not how fast one ran when young, but whether one is willing in midlife to reexamine one’s path, to loosen the emotional grip, and to place the heart in a more truthful position.

The tides of the age are difficult for any individual to control. Yet how one orders body, mind, and spirit still retains a measure of personal agency.

If our generation once rode the rising currents of the era to a certain height, then today the more important question may no longer be how high we can still fly, but whether—as the speed slows—we can learn to be quiet, clear-eyed, and still preserve that small inner light. Just like that gentle yet powerful image: the long night will turn to embers, and the mountains and rivers will be bathed in moonlight. At least with this little beam of light, one can illuminate their own path and avoid stumbling in a night full of gloom.

Perhaps this is the true second-half question now facing those who took off with the WTO.

The real dividing line has never been the era itself, but whether a person finally begins to reflect—and to repent.