Peaceful summer

I usually end my evening with a few minutes of quiet before I drift off to sleep. The soft glow of the night light is a soothing backdrop to the lingering thoughts of the day.

In June, summer has opened wide. I began to want to preserve a peaceful summer for myself, silently grateful for the highland weather this time of year that has given me a season as I wished.

The rains have rolled green into the shore. The brown soil is soaked. The sap of spring or summer flows the same way, connecting thin lines to us that we sometimes don’t even know about. I don’t know how to describe a summer like the one I’m having. It’s so beautiful and strange when I wake up and feel my heels slightly cold. The sun is near, the morning sun is still far away.

Warm yourself with a glass of warm water, look in the mirror and wait for a normal smile to return to your lips. The lilies on the small table have spread their fragrance into the middle of the room, like lifting the curtain of night. A night of sobbing has just melted away and is caught in a thought and then forgotten.

I wonder who led me into such a summer, especially on days when I knew I was “sinking”. It was not a common feeling when I saw my body like a tree in a cold rainy afternoon: sensitive and also full of mystery.

At my calmest, I realize that I am living these days - just like someone once said - like a garden that I don't know what to plant, I refuse to sow an old seed and I can't hold a new one in my hand. I want to burn the worn things but the flame on the old candle wick doesn't know where to start. The traces of time keep returning in the nameless stuffiness of "summer turning cold".

After days of living to be recognized, living to try to show our worth, living to not be left behind, are we tired? It seems that I am misunderstanding myself. On the day when I no longer have enough strength to prove anything, all the motivations are gone, and all the things that used to make me excited now fade away, I consider that a step back for myself.

A day without goals, without plans, without intentions or aspirations. Everything became disjointed, like a wound that lay dormant all day in a comatose silence. But somehow, I knew that moment would come sooner or later. And, I called it the “summer drift” moment.

Who knows, people can still live fully in such chaotic moments. There is no need to become the best version of myself, I want to live more truthfully, true to my nature, the one my parents have given me. Allow myself to be indifferent, to be distrustful, to be bland or any adjectives that others give me. Also allow myself not to explain or signal anyone to come close and comfort me. I want to exist, not for the world out there, but only for myself. Living, loving or writing… are all like that. Wanting to be truthful once, for all.

Like a seed sealed by a shell of mist, it must come from the cold and brokenness inside to sprout, I wait for the beginnings to arise in my heart from such a quiet loneliness. Once sick in the middle of the night, once absent from the hustle and bustle, there must be a time like that to be grateful for everything that is present inside me, the most familiar and ordinary things.

The summer of the world is still somehow smooth and fresh, as if “I look at the melting mist/and see my heart is clear”. I have also just realized that people often awaken not while walking on a path filled with light, but awaken at the exact moment of sinking into a dark space where no one is there to lift them up, except for themselves.

Source: https://baogialai.com.vn/mua-ha-binh-yen-post327389.html