Musings on a cold May day

Sometimes I lie listening to the wind singing outside the window, dreaming of primeval days and remembering a sky where I was as free as a falcon perched on a high-voltage line. Other times I just sit quietly watching clouds drift across empty nights, my insides as flat as the bell the garbage truck rings every evening: not sad, not happy, not angry, not excited, just even, blank white and a little careless. And I wish something new would happen in my life.

Now and then I hum the old song "how many years, my love, sixty years of life". Good grief: I've lived barely thirty years and life already feels so long. So many things have happened, so many people met, so many lessons learned. If it's really sixty, where am I supposed to hide for the other thirty? I'm joking, of course. We all have to drag ourselves to the end of the game and see how it finishes, so we might as well stay positive and make humanity a little more civilised and tidy, right?

That's why, on empty nights like this, I get a sneaky urge to do something, anything, to refresh my life. Like when your computer lags and you right-click on the desktop and hit "refresh". Ninety percent of people who do that have no idea whether it does anything, but you always feel the machine runs smoother, even though nothing has changed. I've realised everyone has problems. Joy is easy to see; sadness isn't. Open people share it and feel lighter; private people hold it tight, gathering a little each day until it becomes a heavy lump that gnaws at them bit by bit. Worries and sadness pile up with it: love, career, family, children, relationships, blah blah. Everything clings, and you can't shake any of it off, all the way to the end, when even your soul is still fretting.

So has anyone, before they die, sat down and counted how many times they truly laughed?

Take me. There are things I really want but I'm too timid to chase, and there are things I do nothing for that just happen to me, like a beautiful rainy night when I fling the window open and want to wander the streets and watch the season change, but then I'm scared of catching a cold, so I don't. That's one of those inner contradictions, and these tiny contradictions are what make up a life. I hope you see the magic in that. If you ever feel like a failure, or boring, or bland, please remember that even those thoughts make you one of a kind: a limited edition, one copy in the whole world and no second. So please treasure that self, even if it isn't perfect.

Lacking confidence in life doesn't mean surrendering to it. So what is there to be afraid of? Let's live positively. Right?!

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Tan, 15 May 2022
First published in Vietnamese on Phong is writing. English translation for this site.