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The Lotus Has Yet to Bloom, the Golden Phoenix Has Yet to Arrive | When People Lose Their Common Measure

Three Objects, Three Misunderstandings

Sometimes, the distance between two people has little to do with geography. They may speak the same language, exchange gifts, and share familiar objects, yet never quite agree on what those words and objects mean.

In Beijing one spring, someone wanted to eat lotus root and received an unexpected reply: the lotus flowers had not yet bloomed. Elsewhere, a golden phoenix model appeared in the arrangements for an event, but its intended recipient remained uncertain. Months later, an old map of someone’s birthplace passed from one person to another. What had first been described as “material” was subsequently called a “gift.”

Three ordinary episodes, three objects, and three different kinds of misunderstanding. Together, they raise a question that extends beyond any particular relationship: How do people establish a common measure when their expectations, actions, and interpretations no longer coincide?

When a Lotus Root Becomes a Question About Flowers

In April, in Beijing, someone suddenly felt like eating lotus root. Hoping to find a restaurant serving Hubei cuisine, she asked an acquaintance for a recommendation. Instead of suggesting a restaurant, the acquaintance replied that the lotus flowers had not yet bloomed.

The question concerned food. The answer concerned the flowering season of a plant. Botanically, the lotus root is the underground stem of the lotus, while its flowers bloom above the water. Lotus roots sold in markets may have been harvested, stored, and transported long before the flowers in a nearby pond begin to open. Whether lotus root can be served at a restaurant does not depend on whether lotus flowers are currently in bloom.

What makes this brief exchange interesting is not simply its unexpected answer. It is the uncertainty that remains. Why did a question about a restaurant receive a response about the flowering season? Was the remark intended as a literal observation, a conversational diversion, or something else entirely? Without further clarification, its meaning cannot be established.

A misunderstanding does not necessarily occur because someone fails to understand individual words. It may arise because the people involved never establish what the question is really asking. One person seeks practical information, while the response moves in another direction. The words are understandable, yet the intended connection between them is missing.

Human beings have developed extraordinarily complex systems of language. Nevertheless, language alone cannot guarantee understanding. Communication requires more than producing a response; it requires recognising the purpose behind a question and, when necessary, asking for clarification.

Two people may understand every word in a conversation and still fail to understand what the other person needs.

The Golden Phoenix: When Symbols Cannot Replace Actions

The second story concerns a golden phoenix model that appeared among the gifts arranged for an event. Someone remembered that an acquaintance enjoyed collecting such models and that one particular model was missing from her collection. Because the original version was no longer in production, staff selected a model that was still available.

Yet an important question remained unresolved. Although the model was connected with the event’s gift arrangements, there was no direct confirmation that it was intended as a personal gift. Nor was there a clear explanation of any particular intention behind its possible presentation.

The event itinerary also passed through the collector’s city. No meeting had been arranged in advance, and she had not been informed beforehand that the journey would bring the participants there. The golden phoenix therefore remained an object surrounded by possibilities rather than a clearly communicated act of giving.

In cultural anthropology, gifts are rarely understood as merely physical objects. In his influential work The Gift, the French sociologist and anthropologist Marcel Mauss examined the social obligations associated with giving, receiving, and reciprocating. Across different societies, gifts can help create and sustain relationships. An act of giving may invite a response, and that response may become part of an ongoing social exchange.

Yet recognising the importance of reciprocity does not mean that every individual must continue giving indefinitely or wait endlessly for a corresponding gesture. Mauss helps explain the social mechanisms of exchange; he does not determine how long any particular person must remain within an uncertain relationship.

When expressions of gratitude and acts of giving continue for nearly two years, a giver may eventually reach a different understanding. The purpose of those gestures may already have been fulfilled. Gratitude has been expressed, goodwill has been offered, and no further gift is necessary to prove the sincerity of the original intention.

The value of a gift does not depend entirely on whether another gift is returned. Sometimes, the act of giving is complete because the intention behind it has already been fully expressed.

Modern gifts, however, do not always carry the same meaning. An object prepared for an event may be part of an organisational arrangement rather than a personal commitment. A symbol may suggest goodwill without establishing what someone actually intends to do.

The phoenix has long been associated with auspiciousness in Chinese cultural traditions. But even a beautiful symbol cannot communicate an intention that has never been clearly expressed. It cannot arrange a meeting, confirm a promise, or explain an uncertain relationship.

Symbols can carry meaning, but communication and action are what allow people to understand one another’s expectations.

The Journey of an Old Map: How Objects Acquire New Meanings

The third story begins with an old map depicting the region where someone was born. To a historian, such a map might be a source of geographical information. To the person whose birthplace it represents, however, it may also carry memories of home, identity, and the beginning of a life.

The map was given to an acquaintance, who described it as “material.” The word suggested something useful for reference, documentation, or research. Months later, after the two people were no longer in contact, the map continued its journey. It was passed on to another recipient, who described it as a “gift.”

The map itself had not changed. Its geographical information, historical appearance, and physical form remained the same. Yet it had entered a different relationship and acquired a different description.

In everyday language, “material” often emphasises an object’s informational or practical value. “Gift,” by contrast, draws attention to the social act of giving and receiving. Neither word necessarily proves that one recipient respected or appreciated the object more than the other. They simply place the same object within different frames of meaning.

This distinction connects with an important approach in cultural anthropology. In The Social Life of Things, edited by Arjun Appadurai, objects are examined through the social contexts in which they circulate and acquire value. In the same volume, Igor Kopytoff developed the idea of the cultural biography of things, exploring how objects can pass through different social categories and acquire changing identities over time.

An old map can therefore have more than one social life. It may begin as an object connected to personal memory, become reference material in another person’s possession, and later enter a new relationship as a gift. Its journey involves more than a change of ownership or possession. It also involves changes in the ways people classify, use, and understand it.

A map can be passed from hand to hand, but a homeland cannot be transferred along with it. Once an object has been given away, the original giver can no longer determine how every future recipient will describe or interpret it.

Perhaps the most interesting question is not where a gift eventually comes to rest, but what happens to its history after it leaves the person who first gave it. Does its earlier meaning remain visible? Does the new recipient know where it came from? And how much of an object’s personal significance can survive when it moves into a different social world?

Objects travel. Their meanings travel too, but not always together.

Epilogue: How Do Human Beings Establish a Common Measure?

A marketplace needs common standards of measurement. Navigation requires shared coordinates. Human relationships, although less easily measured, also depend on mutual understanding, respect, and the ability to respond to one another.

The lotus root, the golden phoenix, and the old map illustrate three different forms of misalignment. In the first story, language fails to connect a question with the information being sought. In the second, a possible gift remains separated from any clearly confirmed intention or action. In the third, an object moves between people and acquires different meanings along the way.

Civilisation is not built solely through technology, architecture, writing, or institutions. It also depends on the ability of individuals to establish shared understandings and coordinate their actions. Without that capacity, even familiar words and ordinary objects can become sources of uncertainty.

Yet not every difference can be resolved. When two people repeatedly fail to establish an effective way of communicating, a shared rhythm may gradually disappear, even when neither person has any clearly identifiable intention to cause harm.

Perhaps the difficulty is not always that someone has done something wrong. Sometimes, two people simply carry different clocks. They have different expectations about what should happen, when it should happen, and what a particular gesture is supposed to mean.

This question also reaches beyond private relationships. Individuals and societies do not always develop according to the same rhythm. A person’s experiences, interests, or abilities may not correspond neatly to prevailing expectations. But does a difference in timing necessarily mean that the individual must abandon their own direction?

No one can demand that every flower bloom at the same moment. No one can control the future of every gift once it has been given. And no one can make every human life follow the same clock.

What remains possible is a different choice: to stop waiting indefinitely for a response that may never arrive, without allowing the judgment of another person, an institution, or an entire era to determine the value of one’s life.

When two people cannot establish a common measure, parting does not necessarily mean that one was right and the other wrong. It may simply mean acknowledging that their differences can no longer be reconciled through further attempts at coordination.

A river does not stop flowing because a boat has departed. Nor must a boat remain forever at the same landing place, waiting for a shared route that has never been confirmed.

A mature civilisation is reflected not only in the ways people learn to approach one another, but also in their ability to accept that some journeys must continue in different directions.

Across Civilizations

King Kaolie of Chu Asks: “I Wanted Lotus Root. Why Are We Talking About Flowers?”

King Kaolie of Chu finished reading the three stories, placed the bamboo slips on his desk, and turned towards Huang Xie, Lord Chunshen.

“Lord Chunshen, is this how people speak to one another in later generations?”

Huang Xie struggled to suppress a smile. “Your Majesty, someone wanted to eat lotus root, and someone else replied that the lotus flowers had not yet bloomed. As for what that answer was supposed to mean, even I would hesitate to explain it.”

The king shook his head. “If I asked what we were having for dinner tonight and someone told me the lotus flowers had not yet bloomed, would I have to remain hungry until summer?”

I took out a photograph of the golden phoenix model. King Kaolie studied it carefully.

“Lady Lingyin, this phoenix is rather beautiful. But where exactly is it supposed to fly?”

I smiled. “Your Majesty, that is precisely the problem. Nobody could confirm whom it was intended for, or whether it was originally meant to be given as a personal gift.”

The king handed back the photograph. “If nobody has explained it clearly, I shall not attempt to read the phoenix’s mind. If someone wishes to give it, let them give it. If not, let it be. Why make such a simple matter so complicated?”

Huang Xie then unfolded an old map. King Kaolie examined the unfamiliar mountains, rivers, and place names. When he heard that the map had subsequently been passed on to another person, he raised his eyebrows.

“Lord Chunshen, can a map change its name too?”

Huang Xie laughed. “Your Majesty, one person called it material, while the next called it a gift. The map remained exactly the same. Only the people looking at it had changed.”

The king considered this carefully. “Suppose someone gave me a map of my homeland. Naturally, I would recognise the sentiment behind it. But if I passed that map to someone else, would the original sentiment travel with it?”

I answered softly. “Your Majesty, a map can change hands, but a homeland cannot be passed along with it. Once the map has left the original giver, how others describe or handle it is no longer entirely within that person’s control.”

Suddenly, King Kaolie remembered something else.

“Lord Chunshen, Lady Lingyin spent two years giving gifts, and now she spends her time studying rivers and ships. Has she already stopped waiting for the phoenix?”

Huang Xie burst into laughter. “Your Majesty, she is far too busy! One day she is studying German chain-towing vessels, and the next she is searching museums for historical ships. When would she possibly find the time to arrange a sailing schedule for a phoenix?”

I could not help laughing too. “Your Majesty, the phoenix has its own destination, and the old map has its own journey. I have rivers of my own to explore. Why should every story remain anchored in the same place?”

King Kaolie slapped the desk and laughed.

“Excellent! Now I finally understand. If you want lotus root, find a restaurant. If you want to see ships, go and see ships. There is no need to wait for the lotus flowers to bloom, and certainly no need to wait for a golden phoenix to arrive!”

Every person follows a different rhythm, and not everyone can travel along the same waterway. What matters is not endlessly waiting for someone else to appear, but remembering where one’s own journey is meant to lead.

A flower that has not bloomed is not necessarily failing. A boat that has departed is not necessarily unkind. They may simply be following different rhythms.

The bamboo slips were slowly closed in the royal palace of Chu. King Kaolie ordered lotus root to be prepared in the kitchen. Huang Xie rolled up the old map with a smile.

And Lady Lingyin’s boat was already sailing towards a distant horizon.

Historical and literary note: The conversations in “Across Civilizations” are fictional literary dialogues featuring King Kaolie of Chu, Huang Xie (Lord Chunshen), and Lady Lingyin. They are imaginative reflections on the themes of this essay, not historical accounts of actual conversations.