Sunken Fish - Chapter 18
But what attracts me most is the other Shangri-La described in *Lost Horizon*, a state of mind where those who control themselves live long, even immortal, while others die from uncontrolled stimulation. "Aversion to pleasure" is a blessing, while passion is sansraison d'être. Passionate people create too much trouble: they disregard consequences, endangering others in their pursuit of material things. Therefore, some consider Shangri-La as an antidote.
For the general public, this is a form of spiritual sustenance—luring people to take the safest route. There are many Shangri-Las in the world, and I am living in my own.
Wendy was deeply troubled. She identified herself as a director of a family foundation. This was true; it was a foundation established by her mother, Mary Ellen Brooksther Finn von, whom some maliciously called "the widow about to get married." Wendy's mother would give her "salary" on her birthday, Christmas, Hanukkah (a Jewish holiday), and Chinese New Year, enough for Wendy to live a carefree life. She had never lacked money, but after her teenage years, she resolved not to be like her mother.
The Asian Art Museum was also one of Mary Ellen's beneficiaries. At the fundraising auction for her trip to the Kingdom of Lanna, she was the highest bidder—three times the original price. She gave Wendy two travel tickets as a birthday gift.
When Wendy embarked on her journey to the Kingdom of Lana, she was accompanied by her lover, Wyatt, whom she had only known for a month. He was the only son of Dort Fletcher and her husband Billy, and was the apple of his parents' eye. Billy was the barley king of Mayvill, North Dakota, where a famous saying circulated: "This is what America looks like!"
Go to Lijiang (2)
Wendy likes Wyatt's type; he's always aloof, tall, muscular, smooth-shaven, with perpetually bronze hair. Only someone of Norwegian descent would look like that.
Wendy thought they could complement each other—I didn't think so. Wendy was short and plump, with strawberry-red blonde curls, sun-prone skin, and had rhinoplasty at sixteen. Her mother had homes in San Francisco, Beaver Creek, and Oahu. Wendy guessed Wyatt came from a working-class family because he always hid his parents' identities.
In a sense, Wyatt has no home: his bed is the living room of his wealthy friends. His livelihood depends on where he lives. In winter, he works odd jobs at ski shops, skis in his spare time, and sleeps on the floor of a friend's house where he skis with him. Last summer, he cycled through the scorching trails of Mount Tamalpais with two Scottish deerhounds. Last spring, he worked as a crew member on a private luxury yacht, sailing the Alaskan Gulf with ecotourists. He's an easygoing man, always responding to life's questions with "whatever."
For some reason, I admire Wyatt. He was polite to everyone, whether it was his former teacher, girlfriend, or employer. He wasn't cynical towards us rich people, and he even respected the valet who charged him for his car, though he always paid the full fare. I think he possessed the most beautiful human quality: selfless kindness.
On the way to Lijiang, Wyatt was taking a nap when Wendy, with her keen observation skills, alerted the others: "My God, look at those people on the side of the road!"
The most important thing Wendy, this newborn calf, needs to learn is to "keep quiet," Berhali thought. He was sitting across the aisle from Wendy and Wyatt.
Several years ago, Berhali spearheaded a movement to abolish inhumane dog training methods—such as violently pulling on a dog's collar or burying its face in its feces. After completing his veterinary training, he studied behavioral science at UC Berkeley, researching canine behavior.
A dog's temperament is not innate; it is influenced by other dogs, people, and small bribes. Anyone familiar with Skinner's theory of operant conditioning can tell you that dogs respond more quickly and meet expectations when given positive reinforcement. Through inducement, conditioning, and capture, they learn new behaviors more rapidly.
“If your puppy steals your expensive alligator wallet,” Berhali would say at the conference, “trade it a hot dog for it, and it’ll throw the wallet at your feet. What’s the lesson here? Put your expensive wallet away out of the puppy’s reach, and give it a smelly old tennis ball. The game is simple: get the ball back in your hands and reward it. Even if it’s not a hunting dog, if you train it enough, it will get things for you.”
Because he brought these common-sense suggestions to the seminar, Beryl became a trainer for dog trainers, the founder of the internationally renowned Canine Action Association, the inventor of the loving training equipment (patent pending), a star in Amateur Magazine, and a dutiful owner of my adorable little dog, Sweetie. I haven't even trained my puppy yet, and the mischievous dog has already chewed up some of Beryl's original books.
Berhali often told his disciples in his lectures: "You must tell others gently but seriously: Dogs are not people in fur coats, absolutely not! Dogs don't speak in the future tense. They live for the moment, unlike you and me; they drink water from the outhouse. They are living specimens of unregulated stimulation and reinforcement, and we only need to learn to apply these rules appropriately. Owners must resolutely avoid provoking dogs, lest they become barking, arrogant, vengeful, sneaky, and betraying. Just as our wives get upset when we mention ex-wives, former lovers, and politicians. Remember, dogs always act according to their own..." Dogs generally do no harm by acting on their own whims, but carpets and Italian shoes are doomed, as dogs mark their territory and chew things up. If there's one type of dog that's like a person, it's a male dog that's as solitary as a man and loves to sleep on the sofa. And you, the clever dog trainers, must make sure dog owners understand this! Yes! Train those idle people who sit around like savages with rolled-up newspapers to demonstrate to their dogs what happy dogs 'prefer' to do, instead of barking and chewing on leather sofas like silly dogs.
Berhali wants to train dog owners as early as possible, before they negatively influence their puppies. He appealed on television: "Dogs in class! This is a great social activity, much better than those sleepy book clubs. Dog classes create a wonderful way for singles to meet. Robust and charming gentlemen, oh! Distant royal ladies, oh! And all the puppies. Imagine them wagging their little tails!"
His television audience sat down, and the puppy came running over like it was dancing the tango. Then Dr. Berhali would get emotional, making everyone feel successful and proud: “Teasing your dog, yes, yes, yes! Let the cheese dangle above its nose, and when it sits down, lower the cheese back down. Hold on, hold on… Good! Fantastic! Give it a bonus right away. It did it, you did it! Only 5.2 seconds. My God, you two are so fast! A dream team!”
Berhali reformed dog training methods, believing this experience could be applied to anything from toilet training to international politics. At the seminar, he said, "Is beating and scolding more effective, or is bribery? Criticism of other countries should be like bribing a dog—paint a rosy picture. A country shouldn't be dealt with by force, but by humanitarianism; the result is obvious!"
Then, Berhali would take out a hundred-dollar bill and wave it up and down, and the eyes of the people in the front row would follow it, seemingly nodding in agreement. His enormous success made him quite arrogant at one point.
In recent years, Dr. Berhali has become less concerned about dog owners and the government's foolish actions. He has turned his attention to himself, fearing that certain functions of his body will suffer the same fate as endangered species—slowly disappearing.
Go to Lijiang (3)
Although his temples were already gray, his hairline was still very defined, and his figure remained upright—his expensive suits contributed significantly to this effect.
But the worst part was that he had benign prostatic hyperplasia (BPH), a common condition among many men. While not extremely harmful, it was certainly bothersome. Dr. Berhali often complained to God: "How can you treat a forty-year-old like this!" He had to urinate frequently, which he felt embarrassed about in public. Dr. Berhali had enough medical knowledge to know that urination problems had little to do with married life. But he still worried that he would break down like the nozzles of a garden hose.