True words from the forest

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(GLO)- Many times I wonder, if I gave up everything I had just to return to the forest, what sincere words would I say?

The nostalgia for the forest “teased” me on a day of returning with so many sincere words from the heart. Suddenly, I felt my heart strangely stirred, as if I could ignore all the troubles of life, leaving only me with the forest, with the trees, and the animals.

In the windless afternoon, I sat for a long time under a tree, listening to the rustling of the mountain wind, listening to the chirping of birds. Then I saw, in the distance, several strips of golden sunlight, and further away, the trees were peaceful and cool. I called it the shade of the happy forest, like the title of a movie that was shown on Vietnam Television.

Với nhiều người, tìm về với rừng là để lắng nghe những lời chân thật. Ảnh: Minh tiến

For many people, returning to the forest is to listen to the truth. Photo: Minh Tien

So, when I decided to ride my motorbike to visit the guards at the forest protection station located right in Kon Von II forest (Kbang district), I turned on my headphones to listen to music to lift my spirits and revive my will. Den Vau's voice echoed hauntingly in the MV "Music of the Forest".

When they knew my intention, the men at the ranger station advised me to wait for a sunny day. Because it was raining now, the road was slippery and also because this was the most remote, isolated and difficult station. In this season, if you still go to the forest, you have to leave a little early because late departures often encounter rain. I listened and said “yes” but still determined to go. Just as they said, the whole long road was deserted, only occasionally did I meet people returning from working in the forest. When the car started going uphill, the forest rain poured down blindingly.

I sat under the canopy of the red leaves. The leaves of the forest seemed noisy but also very few words. And under each tree of the forest seemed to contain true words. Suddenly, virtual images of my childhood flooded back. I remembered myself 30 years ago. The little girl who had left the village and the forest for many years but still missed so much the old place she loved. I remembered the lonely hut in the afternoon at the edge of the forest, her lonely figure in the wind and mist. I remembered the vast expanse of white flower petals flying in the sky on the path of my friends going into the forest to gather firewood and pick bamboo shoots. Sometimes that nostalgia brought me back to the purity of my soul to have the strength to overcome the inherent sadness, the tiredness in the sunset.

I remember I loved standing under the tree canopy, looking up at the light filtering through the canopy, letting the light cover my hair, listening to the whispers of stories being told by the trees. Listening to the true words from the forest, but still feeling nervous. It was a journey between dreams and reality, to a place of pure soul. Sometimes in my dreams, I was haunted by the vast green forests, the hunched backs carrying the local produce diligently coming out of the forest. I don’t know since when, I have been “enchanted” by the forest.

Under the canopy of the forest with its endless magical colors of chlorophyll, and the nuances of the leaves, I feel the need to be honest with myself. I am honest to look again at the joy and wonder when the forests are only leafless trees. Then, on the occasions when I come back by chance, I see them occasionally dyed with immense yellow and red in the changing of seasons. They are turning over with excitement to light up the new leaf season.

After that, I had the opportunity to visit the Krong base area many times. My friend welcomed me with the promise of an interesting trip up the forest, to visit the primeval forest right next to his village. Looking up, I saw the majestic ancient trees. The green was endless before my eyes. There are few places with a path into the forest as beautiful as this one, with so many majestic forest trees soaring in the wind.

You took me to visit the tree that marked the victory of the first days of the resistance war. I touched the rough bark of the Dalbergia tonkinensis tree, the rough bark on the palm of my hand. And a little above my head, there was a mark of the tree’s flesh growing up, with a big hole in the middle. That was the mark of a bullet fragment embedded in it during the fierce years of war.

I walked through small streams, through cool green forests. Above, there was an old forest. The forest kept the land, helped the small village to be peaceful after so many angry storms of the earth and sky. My friend turned to me and told me: Walk slowly to listen to the breathing of the forest. Each of your steps was as quiet as the way you touched each tree. You moved very lightly, occasionally stopping, looking up somewhere in the treetops, listening, then whispering words to yourself.

I remember, the poet Robert Lee Frost once said: "In the forest there are many paths, we choose the path without human footprints". I realized a lesson, the forest as well as humans have no true words like the heart's guidance. The older and more barren the forest, the more it needs deep feelings in the heart. Of course, for each person, there is no eternal true word if the forest is no longer the sacred land of land and vegetation so that a sincere word to the forest can forever sing.

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Tag: return to the forest Missing the forest truth True words from the forest

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