If I were to summarise my experience at Churchill College in the pandemic, it would be ‘practising resilience’. Here, by ‘practising’, I refer not only to ‘doing repeated exercises for proficiency’ (‘üben’ in German; ‘練習(liàn xí)’ in Chinese) but also to ‘carrying out’ (‘ausüben’ in German; ‘實踐(shí jiàn)’ in Chinese). I often asked myself, what would my life here have been, if this pandemic had never happened? In the slightly more than 800 years of the University of Cambridge’s history, why are we the group of students who have had to face it?

“I had the chance to spend more time with myself, listen to my voice in solitude, and pay closer attention to my daily life and inner psyche”

I quickly found out that we probably are not alone when I took the Tragedy paper. In 1918 thousands of children fell ill and schools were forced to close in Cambridge because of the Spanish flu. Hence, after the 1918 Spanish Flu and WWI, this third-year English paper was set up to encourage students to reflect on human tragic experiences and suffering. Who would have known that over 100 years later, another global pandemic would hit us so relentlessly in 2020?

In a peculiar way, even though the conditions now are vastly different from those in 1918, this paper transcends temporal boundaries and urges me to reflect upon my existence. Taking this paper, especially in 2020 with COVID-19’s tyranny, involves not only witnessing but also taking part in the history of this paper. After the ‘tragic’ experience with this paper, my view of the pandemic has changed. It is not until one explores tragic experiences that the contrast between tragic experiences and happiness in life becomes so stark.

It is precisely because of the reduction of social events that I had the chance to spend more time with myself, listen to my voice in solitude, and pay closer attention to my daily life and inner psyche. Like any other student, I have missed out on many events of normal years. I could not start rowing again until Lent Vacation because of the lockdowns; I also noticed that I talk much less nowadays and tend to be more socially anxious. As an introvert, however, to borrow the philosopher Hannah Arendt’s words, ‘I simply can’t be exposed to the public five times a week — in other words, never get out of the public eye. I feel as if I have to go around looking for myself.’ [2] Being resilient is the only way to get through these lockdowns.

“I am sure that even in a pandemic-free version of my life here, I could and may still have summarised my year in the same two words”

So, here are three examples of how I practised resilience, which contrary to common beliefs, are not a lonely and painful process of suffering but a fulfilling and productive experience of forging a better relationship with myself and appreciating many small and mundane aspects of life. It seems to me that these seemingly unimportant things in daily life in fact made me more observant and easier to find joy:

1. Staying dry and not having to rush to the English Faculty for lectures: England is notorious for its bad weather. Instead of having to rush between lectures and buildings, being soaked up in torrential rain, rushing into the lecture halls with messy hair, online learning at least allows me to stay cosy in my room and schedule my learning with more flexibility. I could also switch between different tasks or to go to the dining hall more easily. Hence, I have not fully experienced the weather here and do not have as much to complain about. The only trade-off, however, is having to stare at the computer screen for so many hours.
2. Observing the frequent visitors —ladybugs (and many other insects) in my room: I couldn’t remember the last time I felt excited when seeing a ladybug until I saw it in my room here. As a child, like many others, I had so much curiosity for nature and insects and had absolutely no fear of touching them. At some point, however, I seemed to have forgotten this joy. Being able to observe the ladybugs in my room, hence, helps me rediscover this childhood joy.
3. Cleaning the staircase, the kitchen, and my room: because college staff could not enter the households during lockdowns, students had to clean their own space. Instead of thinking of these tasks as chores, I consider them to be a good end-of-the-week ritual and a de-stressing practice. Cleaning the public space and my room always helped me clear my mental chaos and brought some order to my life. Tidying one’s room is not only good for mental health but also brings me a small sense of achievement after a series of essay crises.

I did not have a usual year in Cambridge, but this does not mean that my time here is less valuable or less worthy than a normal year. After all, there is no such thing as a typical experience everyone must or should have. Everyone experiences Cambridge differently, and for me, resilience does not mean being strong all the time. Instead, it means recognising the situation I am in and adapting to it as much as I can. I am sure that even in a pandemic-free version of my life here, I could and may still have summarised my year in the same two words. And here we are at the end of the tunnel, seeing hope to return to the old normality, with much resilience we gained from a storm.