The Souls Through The Book

As my fingers gently flip through the pages of my commonplace book, thousands of black ink marks emerge from the slightly yellowed paper, intertwining into countless memories that flood my mind. Each page holds echoes of my past thoughts, perspectives, and reflections. It is my commonplace book, a notebook where I collect paragraphs and quotes from articles and books I read and write down my personal thoughts. This seemingly simple notebook, with its unadorned cover and modest pages, has witnessed my mental growth and evolving perspective on the world. It is my most unique treasure, preserving not only beautiful words but also the precious memories and power of knowledge.

I began using this commonplace book six years ago, initially as a tool for improving my writing skills. At the time, I struggled with composition and often lost marks on essays. My teacher advised me to learn from excellent writing by collecting well-structured sentences and imitating their styles. Eager to improve, I filled my book with vivid descriptions, poetic imagery, and intricate metaphors. One of the passages I recorded was: "That little grass, so slender and fragile, is like a transparent green embroidery needle. Four or five pale green tiny leaves, smaller than sesame seeds, are held up to the tip of the needle." This description of grass, delicate yet precise, was mesmerizing to me. My early entries focused purely on the aesthetic value of language rather than deeper themes or meanings. Back then, my commonplace book was nothing more than a tool—a way to secure better grades and gain technical proficiency in writing.

A year later, during the unprecedented surge of COVID-19, my life, my perspective—and consequently, my use of the commonplace book—shifted drastically. The pandemic changed everything. Schools shut down, and we were confined to our homes, attending online classes in isolation. But the worst picture came when the most important competition of my high school years was canceled right before the day due to pandemic policies. I still remember the shock that struck me like a sharp blade, slicing through my efforts and ambition. Anger, frustration, and despair overwhelmed me as thousands of moods and words rushed into my mind.

This experience forced me to confront realities I had never considered before. I was no longer the innocent boy who only cared about grades and entertainment and who unconditionally trusted goodness and justice. For the first time, I began to see the cracks in the world—the corruption in governments, the inefficiency of systems, and the countless people suffering under policies meant to protect them.

This realization made me question the world I had once envisioned, a world that was meant to be kind and warm. I turned to my commonplace book, not for beautiful prose, but for writings that revealed the darkness of society and human nature. I found solace in the works of Lu Xun, a renowned Chinese writer whose sharp critiques of social injustice resonated deeply with my own sense of frustration. One of his quotes is, “The ability to forget the past enables people to free themselves gradually from the pain they once suffered; but it also often makes them repeat the mistakes of their predecessors.” And Charles Bukowski once remarked, “I guess the only time most people think about injustice is when it happens to them,” shedding light on the self-centered nature of societal awareness. My commonplace book transformed from a writing tool into a repository of ideas, a place where I stored powerful critiques of humanity’s flaws and my own reflections on the world’s imperfections. I found myself drawn to literature that exposed injustice, questioned authority, and revealed the hidden struggles of ordinary people.

For a long time, my collection of writings reflected only despair, cynicism, and the harsh realities of the world. But over time, a subtle change took place. As I continued reading, I encountered passages that depicted not just suffering but also resilience, kindness, and hope. I found stories of people rebuilding their lives after the war, smiling at the joy of their beloved ones, and laughing in the face of death even after lives filled with hardship. "There is only one heroism in the world: to see the world as it is and to love it."(Romain Rolland) These narratives resonated with me in a new way. They reminded me that darkness and suffering are only one side of the human experience, rekindling a hope in my heart that had long been extinguished. Alongside cruelty and injustice, there exists kindness, love, and perseverance. My commonplace book began to reflect this shift as well. I started collecting passages that celebrated the beauty of life, the strength of the human spirit, and the goodness of interpersonal relationships. My notes transformed from mere criticism to a more balanced perspective—one that acknowledged the existence of both light and shadow in the world.

I used to read and record extensively, occasionally writing down brief reflections. However, as I engage with renowned and classic books now, I sometimes find myself questioning the perspectives of the main characters or even the authors, rather than passively accepting the values presented. I have begun to develop my own values, engaging in a deep dialogue with the authors instead of merely absorbing their viewpoints. Some books, for instance, objectify women, which was not uncommon in the era they were written. While I sympathize with and regret the injustices suffered by the women in these stories, I do not blame the authors, as their perspectives were shaped by the time and society they lived in. Gradually, my commonplace book has opened a new place where I articulate my own opinions, reflecting values derived from my experience and the era I live in. Writing is not only a powerful tool but also a critical mirror that transforms unstructured thoughts into logical and coherent arguments, refines vague emotions into precise and impactful expressions, and exposes the flaws and limitations within ideas. Constantly observing and analyzing the world around me, I arrive at sophisticated insights, definitions, and conclusions.

Looking back, my commonplace book has been more than just a notebook; it has been a silent companion through my intellectual and emotional journey. It has recorded my shifting perspectives—from a student striving for better writing skills to a skeptic questioning the world’s injustices, to someone who embraces both the flaws and virtues of humanity. Now, every time I open my commonplace book, I feel a deep connection to both my past self and the spirits of countless great souls who have come before me. In its pages, I see my evolution captured in ink—the doubts, the frustrations, the realizations, and the hope.

I continue to add to my book, knowing that my thoughts will keep evolving. Each passage I collect and each reflection I write, is another step in my journey toward understanding myself and the world. My commonplace book, once just a tool for academic improvement, has become a mirror of my soul—a testament to the power of words and the ever-changing nature of human thought.

Feb 13, 2025, at UCSB