You do not have to be a fire for every mountain blocking you. you could be a water and soft river your way to freedom too. –Nayyirah Waheed
- Home
“…from pursuit of happiness to expression of joy…”(Sadhguru)
Hồi còn nhỏ, nhắc đến nhà là nhớ đến căn nhà số bao nhiêu ở đường gì ấy, chỗ quẹo cua giữa hai ngỏ hẽm, có cây trứng cá trước sân, mùa mùa đều đặn trổ bông ra quả mà để ngoại sáng sáng ra quét lá.
Lớn lên, ra Sài Gòn học, lứa bạn hỏi Quê ở đâu đó? À, ở Tây Nguyên đó. Có voi đi học, có uống suối rừng, có sâm Ngọc Linh. À, hoá ra quê mình là cái thị trấn nhỏ đó, là cái vùng đó, đầy rẫy cà phê trên nương đỏ bazan.
Lớn lên chút nữa, đi đây đi đó, hỏi Bạn từ đâu đến vậy? Mình bảo, ừ, Việt Nam đó, ở đây đây nè, giáp với nước này nước này nè. Nhiều bạn đã đến mình chơi thốt lên Ồ, Việt Nam hả, mình đến rồi đó. Đẹp lắm đấy, mà thức ăn cũng ngon nữa (và cà phê không quên được). Nhà là quê hương, có phong tục, có nếp nhà, nơi mình thấy gắn bó, thân thương, quen thuộc.
Rồi từ nhà, từ Việt Nam, muốn đi nhiều hơn nữa, khám phá nhiều hơn, đến nhiều nơi, đi nhiều vùng, quen nhiều bạn. Nhà là bốn bể, là anh em. Nhà không còn là giới hạn một sắc tộc (ethnicity), văn hoá, địa danh, ngôn ngữ, mà bao trùm, phổ quát, sang mối quan hệ giữa người với người (humanity). Nhà có thể ở một làng quê dưới chân núi Himalayas, nhà ở ở dãy Rwenzori hay thành phố tấp nập Kampala, miễn là nơi đó mình cảm thấy thuộc về. Nhà có thể là bất cứ nơi đâu. Đi tìm tự do từ nhà.
Rồi một ngày mỏi gối, chồn chân, chợt ngoảnh lại. Tự hỏi trong tim đâu là nhà. “They say home is where the heart is But my heart is wild and free So am I homeless or just heartless.” Thế chỉ mong được về bên ba mẹ, bên những người yêu thương. Như nhạc Trịnh hát “Trong trái tim con chim đau nằm yên ngủ dài lâu…”. Nhà là được ở bên cạnh ba má, bên những người mình thương yêu, bất kể là nơi đâu. Home is wherever you are with me.
Nhưng ba má có mãi ở bên, người mình thương cũng vậy. Tìm đâu là nhà? Khắc khoải từng ngày chờ mong. Rồi một sớm mai thức giấc, tự nhủ, nhà là bình yên, là tự tâm, là sống hạnh phúc, từng phút giây. Như có lần đọc một câu quote trên một chuyến tàu điện ngầm ở London, “Wherever you go, bring heaven with you. Bring home with you.”
Life is not about seeking happiness. It is an expression of your joyfulness.
Finally, I found home. Home is yourself.
Once you are home to yourself, home is anywhere.
15 February 2021
On the Ganges River, India
- On Making Decisions
When it comes to decision-making, everyone says to follow your heart. But how?
I am used to going to the forest or traveling to distant places for a few days when I need to make (big) decisions. In this way, I withdraw myself from the regular flow of daily life and the influences of others to turn inward to my inner self. Or if I don’t have those luxuries, I will find a quiet place, sit, and breathe. There, I find the clarity.
When it comes to making decisions, we usually weigh the benefits and drawbacks of one option over another. What we get and what we lose. But “it is not all about what we get, it is about what (really) matters to us” (Sadhguru).
I usually check my motivation for those decisions. Is this the happiness, comfort, peace, or a means of living that I am pursuing? Or is this fuelled by fear, worries, and anxieties? Whatever it is, I choose the one that makes my heart jump the most. The one that I can work at tirelessly, above time, and anything else. The one that I will not regret in my lifetime.
Too often, we are restricted by time, means of living, and comfort. Is this the life you want to live? I ask myself whenever the question comes.
I remembered when I was in India, after a stay of four months, I was almost exhausted due to the heat (45 degrees Celsius) and malnourishment. It was my Mother who encouraged me to stay up till the end of my term. She said, “At least, try yourself for six months and see what happens.” And I did. Things transformed beautifully in the end. I stayed for another 3 months (making it 10 months in total) and had chances to travel to different places in India, even got another research project. If I hadn’t stayed on that day, I might not have had the courage to continue working and traveling to other countries afterward. Uganda, Tunisia, Cambodia, all are beautiful countries.
Hence, I had a lesson for myself. Don’t make decisions when you are desperate. Make up your mind when you are in the most blissful and calm state. But once you have decided, do not waver the direction. On your journey, surely obstacles and challenges will come up, but do not let them affect your long-term goals, your long-term well-being. As Master Shi mentioned in his Ted talk, only then, you can reach the peak.
May you find an answer within you. A lucid mind can clear the confusion, without fear, anxiety, or worries.
After all, it is not all about what you get, it is about what (really) matters to you.
- Wind, by Thao Do
I am the autumn wind
Flying nowhere on the endless meadows
I am the river stream
Flowing nowhere across the forests pines
I am the dandelion flower
Floating nowhere following the wild windsThe winds will eventually whirl in the storm
The streams will eventually merge in the big ocean
The flowers will eventually land make fields home…
I belong to nowhere..Brighton, 4 May 16
Illustrator: Lan Le - The homeless girl, by Thao Do
Winds.
Little cool winds swiftly blow over my face.
Rain.
Small water bubbles hop on my cat umbrella drop by drop.
Falling leaves.
Yellow-orange leaves fall loosely between my fingers’ space.With backpack on the shoulder, I stroll along the street
A squirrel comes across my way
I ask “Where are you going, dear Little Squirrel?”
The squirrel replies “I am collecting almonds for upcoming winter”
“Can I come with you?”, I ask politely
The squirrel shakes his head “Nope, you are too big for my hollows”Feeling not disappointed, I continue my way
A swallow is perching on the fence
I ask “Where are you going, dear Little Swallow?”
The swallow replies “I am flying south to avoid the cold”
“Can I come with you?”, I ask politely
The bird brushes aside “Nope, you are too heavy for my wings”Not giving up hope, I continue my way
A bear is drowsing near the lake
(Maybe while catching the fishes)
I ask “Where are you going, dear Little Bear?”
The bear replies “I am going to sleep the whole winter”
“Can I come with you?”, I ask politely
The beard looks and says “Nope, you are not fat enough for the hibernation”Tiredly, I take a rest under a tree
A wind passes and asks
“Why are you so sad, dear Beloved Girl?”
I nearly cry “I can’t find anything to do this winter”
The wind wisely replies “Then, let’s go
Go everywhere and stop anywhere interests you”
I say “Yes, why can’t I?”
Further horizon is my destination
Four corners are my home,
All things and animals are my friends
I am a homeless girlOpen up the umbrella, I uncover my blue sky
Then shouting out “Little Wind, wait for me, I will catch you up!”Manchester, 17 Dec 2015
Illustrator: Lan Le
- Flowers on the road, by Thao Do
I met you
The little yellow flower on the road
You are there, on the green base
Slightly swaying in the wind..
Rain comes and goes, so does the sun
Winter comes and goes, so does the spring.
You are still there
Strive stronger and wirier
Like trees in the forest.
Always toward the sun.
Like bird’s wings on the sky.
Always young and free.
Brighton, 12 Nov 2015Illustrator: Lan Le
- Home, by Warsan Shire
no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as wellyour neighbors running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay.no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilet
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitiedno one chooses refugee camps
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one skin would be tough enoughthe
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
niggers with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe because the blow is softer
than a limb torn offor the words are more tender
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hunger
beg
forget pride
your survival is more importantno one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear
saying-
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here - The white consultant, by Amelia Kami
dear white consultant,
you are not of the pacific islands.
you are entranced by our grace,
in awe of our strength
but
so quick to judge our mistakes,
so quick to share your thoughts
on how to fix us,
how to better us
as if your ancestors had not tried before.
dear white consultant,
you are not of the pacific islands.
you are a descendant of the colonizers
using your textbook knowledge
to disguise your true motives,
to fulfil your visions
on how we should act,
how we should talk,
how we should be.
dear white consultant,
you are not of the pacific islands.
you are
the remains of an ideology
that everything you say
is true,
everything you say
is final.
dear white consultant,
you are not of the pacific islands.
you have never scraped a coconut
picked from the tallest tree by your cousin,
you have never scaled a fish
fresh from your grandfathers saturday catch,
you have never collected rocks
for sunday ‘umu with extended family,
you have never felt your grandmothers hand across your head
because you were talking too much in church.
dear white consultant,
you are not of the pacific islands
and yet
you are so eager to teach us
about us,
our lives,
our culture,
our home,
our history,
from a textbook;
pages written by the hand of a white man.
dear white consultant,
you are not of the pacific islands.
you are allowed to admire,
you are allowed to experience,
you are allowed to appreciate
but
we will not
allow you to appropriate,
to denigrate,
to dominate.
dear white consultant,
your time has passed.
we will write our own history from here.
your consultation is required in your own land.This poem was inspired by several encounters I’ve had with “white consultants”. It’s to refer to people that aren’t a part of a certain culture or ethnicity yet they still feel the need to validate their perspectives on the lifestyle and culture. Yes, we make mistakes but they are our mistakes to make. This poem is a challenge against the epistemic violence that is masked by the excessive aid from overseas countries. Don’t get me wrong, we are grateful and appreciative but our own new history can’t be written if the overseas countries are still playing the lead parts. I just hope for a time where Pacific islanders can learn about themselves in a way that won’t be tainted by the opinions of a white man.
Mia Kami
Original post: https://tongayouthleaders.wordpress.com/2018/07/16/dear-white-consultant-a-poem-by-amelia-kami/