Casual Conversation: Silently Surviving

Life is fast-paced and busy these days, and sometimes we rush by too quickly without noticing anything. For example, these days the trees along the roadside are greener, and the young shoots have grown into small branches after the storms and floods.

Before I could even look back, memories piled up in a jumble. I vaguely remembered this and that, fragmented as if they had happened before, passed by before, and occasionally felt a pang of nostalgia when I unexpectedly encountered old cherished memories. All of that, it belonged to me.

In the school garden this morning, sunlight streamed through every corridor and pathway, suddenly evoking memories of long, mossy rainy days. Along the grounds, rectangular patches of grass were lined with ancient trees. There were flame trees, golden cassia, mahogany, and towering mangroves, their trunks bearing the marks of once-green leaf stalks. These gnarled trunks, weathered by time, held the support and refuge of countless other life forms. Wild orchids, parasitic plants, and bodhi trees hung suspended in the air, basking in the wind, absorbing the sun and enduring the dew.

Survival is sometimes about clinging to something precarious. It's about learning to endure the shade when it's not your turn to bask in the sun. It's about waiting for the rainy season, even during dry months. Looking up at the canopy, the sky is divided into many pieces by intricate veins, yet always creating boundaries, yielding to one another. Life, therefore, is not always perfect and orderly. It can be distorted, parasitic, crowded, even hurtful to one another. Humans are the same; some live for faith, for something that brings joy and happiness. Others are entangled by sadness like parasites. Everything is silently surviving. Like standing beneath a tree covered in scars, we realize that silence is the true pride of life.

Old trees often resemble humans, having weathered countless years. This season, these dry, barren trunks stand silently in the still air. Looking closely, one can see how many other lives have taken refuge beneath that barren surface. Life is sometimes strange; it can sprout on a charred trunk, a bare branch, or in a space with nothing to cling to.

Perhaps it's the same for humans.

Some people appear strong and steadfast on the outside, like a large tree standing tall against the sky, but deep inside, they are full of wounds. They still go through life with a calm demeanor, still provide shade for others even when they themselves have been on the verge of breaking. And then there are those who live like vines. They are not strong enough to stand alone, so they cling to something, a fragile belief that things will get better. People often think that relying on others is a sign of weakness, but sometimes it's just a way to survive. Like those tree roots hanging precariously in the air, perhaps they don't like being in that precarious position, but it's the only way for them to continue to exist.

Looking up once more, the trees intertwined against the blue sky. Beside the dead, dry branches, a cluster of leaves from another species clung, fresh and soft. Life is always like that, always existing alongside decay, loss, and separation. It seems everything this season is quietly asleep, waiting for the rainy season to come and revive. Everyone still has enough faith to live decently with life.

My joy this morning was seeing that world . The multi-layered world of trees on the school grounds. I was the shortest because I had to look up at them. Yet, I calmly lifted my head to look at the sky. Still gentle enough to cherish a flower, to remember all the people who have lived and passed through, to remember every poem left behind by our ancestors.

In Hue , on a morning by the riverside, rows of trees cast long shadows on the ground. Cyclists glide past, the sun's rays lingering among the leaves, its light filtering through small gaps, silently and patiently. Cao Ba Quat, while traveling on the Perfume River, wrote: "The long river is like a sword standing against the blue sky." The Perfume River is no longer gentle and flowing; it is a long, straight sword against the blue sky. People usually think of rivers as something tranquil, like a deserted dock, a small boat, the gentle sound of oars. But for Cao Ba Quat, the river possesses a powerful and solitary spirit, something both beautiful and sharp, silent and sacred. Perhaps only those who have weathered many storms can see the river in this way. They see not just water and trees; they see their own destiny reflected within it. An old tree standing silently against the sky is like a sword dulled by time, yet still retaining its original spirit. On that very tree trunk, young leaves still sprout, roots still spread, and birds still return to build their nests. Just like that river, outwardly appearing calm, but inwardly seething with life, so it continues to flow on, oh river!

Sometimes, humans cannot always be soft and yielding to every current. There are times when one must maintain their firmness, keeping a straight line amidst the many twists and turns of life. Gentleness is a beauty, but resilience is what helps one weather storms. Waves crashing against rocks reveal their pure white slate; everything in the world is interconnected, perhaps like those waves and rocks, but invisible to the human eye. Without those rocky outcrops, perhaps the waves would simply pass by silently like an anonymous stretch of blue water, unaware of their potential to burst forth in foam and then shine so beautifully in the sunlight.

All things are interconnected, silently existing like waves and rocks. People often think they are free, standing alone in life. But in reality, everyone is being held back by something. Sometimes we don't notice the birds chirping each morning, or the trees along a familiar road, or a corner of an old cafe that evokes memories of a bygone home. Standing alone in life is just that our eyes are accustomed to seeing the grand things and forgetting those small threads. Only when they break do we realize how much we were anchored to them.

Source: https://thanhnien.vn/nhan-dam-lang-le-sinh-ton-1852604182002425.htm