New Year, New Me
Năm mới, tôi mới. – New year, new me.
Năm mới, khởi đầu mới. – New year, new beginnings.
Năm mới, cơ hội mới. – New year, new chances.
But when I look out of the window into my backyard, nature seems still.
I see no new beginnings.
In winter, we are supposed to stand still. We are supposed to surrender. We are supposed to wait. For spring. For when the flowers slowly start to grow again.
Mẹ tôi tin rằng tôi là một kẻ thất bại.
My mother believes I’m a failure.
As I write these words, I cry, a silent scream inside, everything tightens, where my heart lives. My cat sits on my lap, and I turn away from her.
Tôi cố gắng cảm nhận nỗi đau, để cho những cảm xúc này trỗi dậy – những cảm xúc mà tôi thường chạy trốn, từng phút từng ngày. – I try to feel the pain, to allow these emotions to surface – emotions I otherwise run away from, minute by minute, day by day.
My cat understands, and she moves to sit at the end of the bed. She’s giving me space, but she also stays. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced unconditional love in my life, like the love she gives me.
Vào tháng Ba, khi mùa xuân trở lại và thiên nhiên thức tỉnh, tôi đang học, đây là khởi đầu của năm mới. – In March, when spring returns and nature awakens again, I am learning now, this is the beginning of the new year. When Aries makes its way through the whole of existence, and becomes the first sign of the astrological calendar.
Last March, I ate magic mushrooms with friends. “Golden Teacher” was the name of the mushroom. Once I had the mushroom in my body, I could no longer run away from my grief.
Khi bạn tôi thấy tôi đang kìm nén những giọt nước mắt, anh ấy bắt đầu ôm tôi, và đó là lúc nước mắt bắt đầu rơi. – When my friend saw that I was holding back my tears, he started to hold me, and that’s when they began to fall. And he held me, just like my mother used to do. But unlike her, he told
me, “You can cry.”
“Nín, nín đi con.”
“Nín” is a Vietnamese word for “stop crying” or even “stop making noise.”
The Golden Teacher took me on a journey into the past, and suddenly I saw my mother, tired and exhausted, trying to comfort me. “Stop crying.” “Nín di con.” I clearly saw the emptiness in her eyes. Và tôi hiểu, mẹ tôi không bao giờ cho phép tôi khóc vì chính mẹ cũng không bao giờ được phép khóc.
And I understood, she never allowed me to cry because she herself was never allowed to cry. To this day, my mother almost never cries, even though she had every right in the world to cry for days.
She tells me on the phone, just a few minutes ago,
“Đã bốn năm từ khi con tốt nghiệp, mà con vẫn chưa làm được gì. Liệu con có bao giờ có thể tự lo cho bản thân không?” – “It’s been four years since your bachelor’s, and you still haven’t accomplished anything. Will you ever be able to take care of yourself in life?”
She writes to me after I silently and tearfully end the call: “Mẹ mệt rồi.” – “I’m tired.”
I wish she could see that I have a roof over my head, food to eat every day, water to drink and wash with, warm clothes to wear, my cat by my side, and a community of beautiful people who catch me
when I need it and hold me.
I wish she could acknowledge that I am a person with a big heart—and what strength that takes. She writes to me, “Con tốt bụng quá.” – “You’re someone who’s too kind-hearted.” “Tốt bụng.” – Good belly. A person, in her eyes, too naïve, who will never succeed in this capitalist world. In this world, you can’t have a good belly, or you’ll be exploited and oppressed.
My mother is a child of the Vietnam War, and all she wants is for me to be financially secure. But she doesn’t see that capitalism is taking away my breath, my joy for life, sucking the soul out of me.
Con đang cố gắng, mẹ ơi, con đang cố gắng vì mẹ nữa, để sau tất cả những thập kỷ làm việc vất vả, mẹ có thể cuối cùng nghỉ ngơi. – Ich versuche es schon, Mama, I am trying for you too, so that after all these decades of hard work, you can finally take a break.
It’s New Year’s, but March and spring have not yet arrived. In a world without capitalism, patriarchy, colonialism, war and genocide, would you perhaps say to me:
“Rest, my child. Prepare the soil. Sow your plants. It’s winter. Don’t forget to water your seeds daily and pray for strong trees to grow from them, with roots that reach deep into the earth.
Everything will fall into place. As long as we have each other, all is well. I love you, unconditionally.
Miễn là chúng ta có nhau, mọi thứ đều ổn. Mẹ yêu con, vô điều kiện.”
– Xoài