RABBIT HEART, RESTLESS SOUL

The very definition of a 'Silent Night', to me, is sitting by a crackling fire, bathing in the pale moonlight while singing 'Moon River' so faintly, I'm the only one who could make out the words. Such tranquility, such mindfulness is what I yearn for every second of the day, even before I fall into sleep. And yes, I do realize that somehow, along adulthood, I've become a creature of anxiety, much so that the idea of 'inner peace' is becoming more and more foreign to me.

ONCE UPON A SPOTLESS MIND

There's a reason why children are so impressionable - clueless, brave and curious - these 'young hearts' are heavily impacted by their surroundings. I was a young heart once. Boasting many potentials to do great things in life, I was told by everyone that I needed to excel in almost everything I did, and work hard to get further. Dancing - I mastered. Drawing - I was amongst the best in my class. English - I always held first place during my junior years. My achievements quickly became the stories of wonders being told relentlessly by my family and close relatives. To this day, my childhood prizes and honors are still hung on the living room walls. And gosh... How proud I am. I worked hard for the fruitful results and the rest just followed suit. But deep down I know, I was never an extraordinary kid, but a kid trying to be extraordinary.

Once when I came home with a Maths score just above average, my heart was pounding so fast that I couldn't hear my self think or breathe. As I foolishly came clean with my family, I was met with rage from my mother. The last thing I could remember was a ruler hitting my forehead with a 'pang' and fell down to my feet. That was the most scared I had ever been in my life. It was then that anxiety, the intense obsession with perfection, and the urge to run away whenever there's problem became a part of me.

WHAT MAKES A RUNAWAY

My boyfriend often asks: "Why do you keep running away from problems ?" I'm constantly scared and anxious - that's why. Happy and blessed as I was at the younger years, I was always anxious about not being able to measure up to others' expectations, especially my own mother's. (Is that true happiness, though?)

A classic case of narcissism, she enjoys being the center of attention and showered by praises, even more so when it comes to how well she has 'groomed' me into a responsible and independent adult as I am which I partly agree. My mom is by no means a bad person. She gives away her wealth to the poor, helps the neighbors with their problems and protects the family's reputation when it's on the line. But she has never been a good enough mother for me. Call me ungrateful, but she used to make me scared for my life. As a kid, I could never comprehend why she enjoyed being angry and violent towards her own family. I spent all my childhood scared and anxious about her behaviors, running away from her rage even when I'm well-protected by my father. It was the hardest thing to do when you were being taught all your life to 'worship' your parents but were always doubting their abilities and qualities as your 'guardians'.

Until today, I'm still anxious around her and about almost everything that I do. And this puts such a weight on my heart that sometimes, I cry myself to sleep. 'Anxiety' has become much more than just a feeling but a disbelief in myself and others. If you suffer from anxiety, you might understand what I meant. If not, just picture a cat constantly trying to make her smitten master happy in fear of being abandoned. In the end, the cat may end up hating herself during the attempt to earn some love, because simply being 'herself' may never seem like enough.

THIS TOO SHALL PASS

My battle with anxiety has persisted for the past 15 years. I used to run away as a defense mechanism. I avoided doing things that stirred even the tiniest bit of anxiety - a job that I wasn't familiar with, a social meet-up full of strangers, or even a potential romantic relationship. 'It's easier that way' - I thought. But it isn't easy after all. Many days have I stayed awake doubting my past decisions. Many hours have I spent crying over my regrets. Yes, it may seem easy at first, but the regrets that follow will eat you up inside if you let anxiety and fear take over. It only hits me now that I have to stop being a creature of anxiety and start living.

How? I start treasuring the little things that make me happy, like my little cousin's cracking, infectious laughs whenever I rub my face against his, the warm embrace from the ones I love, or simply a joyful song sung out of tune by my silly boyfriend. These little wonders remind me that no matter how gruesomely others may critique my behavior, as hard as I am on myself, and as anxious as I am about an upcoming challenge, count on life to work its magic and create moments that are worth living for. As Sir Frank Sinatra sung:

"And when two lovers woo  

They still say: I love you 

On that you can rely 

No matter what the future brings 

As time goes by"

And the BEST part about combating anxiety? It's the fruits of taking chances, the joy of new beginnings, and the bliss of knowing that even when you doubt yourself, there are people who are willing to accompany you along the way. Sometimes, I'm still anxious more than I should be. But you know what? This too shall pass.

LIFE OUTSIDE THE CRYSTAL BALL

When I was a child, I admired crystal balls. As an eight - year - old, my eyes twinkled to the little bits of sparkles and snow. My heart seemed to waltz to the rhythm of the falling snowflakes. "Magnificent." - I told myself. 

My mom bought me a sweet little crystal ball that would easily fit into my palms. Inside, there was a young couple on the park bench grinning at me. They looked as if they were having the best days in their idle life. But, to be honest, I couldn't care less about the immobile couple. My eyes were fixed on the wonders that were sparkles and snowflakes. "If I could live in a crystal ball" - I thought - "I would live in a small house on a hill made of candy and cotton - balls. The snow could hit me sometimes, but I'd be warm and cozy."

LIFE INSIDE A CRYSTAL BALL

My childhood was spent living in a figurative crystal ball. Showered with my parents' love and affections, there was not a single hint of despair coming to shook me up. The constant warmth that I received felt like that small cozy house I imagined for myself. As a "little miss sunshine", I fit in well everywhere with a contagious smile on my face. Primary school was a playground to me. I brought my custom - made paper dolls to school almost every day and shared them with my best friend. We painted them odd colors turning them into monstrous divas while laughing at our own creations. These paper dolls that I made bore a huge resemblance to the couple in the crystal ball in that they always had a big smile on their faces. But they looked so stiff. I tried to make them walk as humanly as possible but never succeeded. 

When my goal of making human-like paper dolls hit a dead - end, I got a $50 Barbie from my aunt. I hated it. Nothing about it cheered me up. I tried to play with the costly doll multiple times, but was always irked out by the plastic motionless face. In the end, I gave it to my cousins who appreciated it much better. 

I stopped playing with dolls at the age of 10. I didn't want to be comforted by plastic figurines. My curious mind went on to discover the real world once I reached my teenage years. The more exposed I was to the world, the less I wanted to live in my figurative crystal ball. At the age of 15, I wanted the world to be my playground. I wanted to roam free like the forest spirits in the world of Miyazaki. Just then, the glass ceiling of my crystal ball finally cracked.

THE EMBRACE OF THE COLOR WHEEL

Like a newborn first welcomed to the world, I stretched my working arms and tireless foot. My first job was an intern English teacher at a local center. The first workday was awesome. The kids loved me when I brought them candies. On the second day, they ran excitedly to me at the sight of a candy bag. Thinking that I was finally accepted as a fun teacher, I did not bring a single piece with me on the third day. The kids weren't fawning on me anymore, instead, they lazed around and made googly eyes at the clock. "How naive of me." - I thought. 

The rest of the month was filled with hardships and challenges. Without the candies to lure the students, I struggled to commit to the workflow. It was then that I realized being a teacher was everything but an ease. My voice cracked after one month. During my short leave, I paid lots of visits to the bookstores with the hope to not only better the lessons but also bring my old self back. "Will I be fine once I get back to work?" - I wondered. 

And I was fine getting back to work. After days of research and killing myself over irrational reasons of why I should quit, I dared myself to step back into the classroom once more. This time, I somehow pulled it off. After 2 more months working as a teacher, I could finally went back to being a  high school student with lots of hopes in the air. 

I'm 23 years old now. Sometimes, I ask myself: 

Who could be more miserable than a struggling 23 - year - old?

The answer is always "a 24 - year old", "a 25 - year - old", "a 26 - year - old" and the like. It seems almost impossible to go back to my life inside the crystal ball. Most of the time, I hang in there with grace and integrity. At times, I break under the pressure and cry myself to bed at night. But honestly, my bones feel so much stronger now. The authenticity of my existence is constantly built up and renewed each time I get my broken bones mended. I am not looking from the inside like I used to do. In front of my eyes, the whole world is laid out in the vibrancy of blended colors. Where there is green, there is blue. Where there is orange, there is red. The beautiful thing about colors is that no matter how hard you try to change them, they will just blend seamlessly into one another. 

The whole world, like the color wheel, is a playground of living fusion. One that welcomes sadness in the name of "hardship", and joy in the name of "triumph". 

My breakaway from being a plastic figurine definitely cannot guarantee a happy ending. The future holds such mystery that even prophets cannot comprehend. I know, though, that life is only worth living in the harmony of sadness and joy. If I need vigorousness to feel alive, then vigorous shall I be. 

Thanks for reading

THE PARACHUTE OF REGRETS

Dear 25 - year - old me, 

How are you doing? I hope everything will be going as planned by the time you read this letter. If everything is not okay, don't panic. We live in a beautiful world, after all. 

SORROWFUL UNDER THE WILLOW BARK

I had quite a terrible day yesterday. By "terrible", I don't mean it was a day of mishaps and disasters, but rather "mundaneness". Isn't it scary and lonesome to go through a mundane day? Isn't every living day supposed to be nothing short of wonderful? 

I woke up at mid - day because I was having trouble sleeping the previous night. A mournful dream caught up to me. In my dream,  a 33 - year - old me was hiding under the crown of a big willow bark, eyes fixating on the pale blue misty horizon. A faint figure slowly strode away from me. As the figure vaporized into the mist, a pang of sorrow suddenly hit me. Who was it? I'll never know. The only thing I can be sure of is a heart-wrenching stream of regret that ran in my vein . Whatever regret I must have had, I'm really scared to bring myself to recall it. 

The sorrow that I carried with me in that dream lingered on for the whole day. The day passed by with no upbeat. I found myself drowning in an ocean of dull faces, distant laughter and monotonous work . As you may recall, on that day, I went to bed feeling alienated to the rest of the world. With my eyes closed, my mind was taken back to the image of a solitary me hiding under a willow bark with a heart loaded with regrets. 

ARE WE REALLY MISERABLE CREATURES? 

Regret. Solely the word itself is drenched in sadness. It takes us back to the time that we wish could have been different. It pains us because not only does it remind us of things we should have done differently, but also can't be erased, just like the past. We all make mistakes, and our regrets are the markings of these mistakes in the course of time. We can bury our regrets and keep them somewhere deep down in our soul, but the markings are always there, like a wrinkle in time that can't be flattened out. If there were a "What if" button, one that everyone could use to turn back in time, I'm pretty sure quite a few people would push it. But the question remains: are we all really miserable creatures carrying regrets in our hearts? 

IT'S OKAY. LIFE ITSELF IS NOT SYMMETRICAL. 

Regrets aren't meant to be erased. They are meant to exist due to our imperfections. At certain times in our life, what seems to be a perfect choice may turn out to be a bad decision later on. But it's okay. Life itself is not symmetrical. We, as humans, are asymmetrical. Our hands are of different sizes. We tend to prefer certain foods, songs or movies over others. Sometimes, we would fall in love with someone and they suddenly become the center of our attention despite all the attractive people surrounding us. So if our minds, our hearts, our souls are flawed, isn't it unnatural to always make the right decision? Aren't we all hanging on to dear life despite our imperfections? 

We grow on our mistakes. The regrets that once burdened us keep being pushed further and further to the back of our brain until they become nearly invisible. The thing is, thanks to the what-could-have-beens, we get to where we are today. We learn from them to treat ourselves and others better. The wrinkle can't be flattened out, but we can learn to embrace it as time goes by. The regrets will eventually navigate us towards a beautiful horizon. 

My 25 - year - old self, I'm sorry for all the regrets I may bring you. There will be days when you feel like a wounded bird plunging from the sky, but don't let these regrets pull you down. Let them be your parachute. You'll be scared, but it's okay. Even if you fall, you'll fall gracefully and painlessly. 

Regards, 

Phuong

SHINE A LIGHT

When I was 12 years old, I started to create an imaginative world of my own. Unlike others', my world is pitch black, borderless and without a sound, except for my heart beats. In this world, I walk days and nights in the dark towards a magnificent cube of light. It keeps spinning slowly to the beat of my heart and getting more and more transparent as I get closer. Until now, the cube is still shining blindingly whenever I close my eyes. It's so beautiful. It brightens my whole imaginative world. 

To this day, I'm still lost in my imaginative world sometimes. It represents my philosophy of "being": to have endless journeys, ones with hardships that will finally dissolve into my whole existence, to the point that I find peace and blinding light in the darkest nights. 

EVERYBODY HURTS

Have you ever felt so detached from your surroundings? I know I had. There were days when I felt like everyone around me was blurring into a thousand identical faces."Nothing is worthy of my attention. Everything looks the same. Everyone looks like one another." That was my thought during a hard time I had. It's not true though. Everyone is undoubtedly unique and brings too much goodness into my life. 

Thinking back to when I was in my late teens, I've realized that it was so much easier for me to victimize myself. It was so easy to let pain be the center of my world. As I moaned, or cried, I became this selfish person who took people down into my pit. When I felt sadness, I wanted others to feel it too. So terrible, yet instinctual, don't you think? Once in pain, most of us grieve before we become better. In grief, our hearts sink and weigh down our loved ones' hearts. In grief, we tend to forget one fundamental thing: EVERYBODY HURTS. The people who stay by our side during difficult times have their own struggles. Aren't we too selfish to take them for granted and undermine their sufferings? At the end of the day, it is those amazing people that join us on our endless journeys and lead us to the blinding light. When we get better, it isn't just our days that get brighter, but theirs, too. 

The beautiful thing about pain is that it is universal. 

Be it you, me or the most optimistic person in the entire world, at some point in our life, we feel pain. We understand what our loved ones are going through, or we try to understand at the least. We don't let pain turn us all into a miserable bunch. As companions in life, we help each other up. In all fairness, we are optimists at heart. And as simple as that, we become each other's shelter in the stormiest nights. 

SHINE A LIGHT 

Casting my mind back on the painful experiences I've had, I've got no regrets. Surely there were tears, but there were triumphs also. The triumphs that I had couldn't have existed without those who picked me up from the ground and took me as I am. It's amazing how I showed parts of me that weren't that pretty, yet these people still reached out to me, though with hesitance at times, to make me feel better about myself. I am so grateful. 

They say "You are your worst enemy" . What this means, I think, is that the battles within yourself hinder you from taking further steps. But much more importantly, sometimes, you turn into this ugly version of yourself that fails to appreciate the things you have and disregards other's feelings. The battles you have are not to be fought alone. They are to go in hands with others' battles. Only when you become sympathetic of other's pains and struggles will your hardships dissolve into your cells with all positivity and make you a better person. 

I've learnt my lesson that even the worst day is not the end of the world. On the stormiest days, I shall find shelter in the arms of those who care about me. Without these stormy nights, I can't get closer to the blinding light that is the arms of people I love. They welcome me with no judgement of my flaws. 

I, too, will shine a light on them in their darkest nights even with the heaviest heart. 

Thanks for reading

A POCKETFUL OF MUSES

"Oh dream-maker, you heart-breaker, wherever you're going, I'm going your way" 

To me, dream is such a beautiful concept. It keeps me going everyday, and breathes life into the future that I can hardly anticipate. My dream is big. It not only clouds my days with joy and ecstasy, but also a thousand fears. The closer I get to it, the more fearful I get. But believe it or not, with fears comes courage. In the pursuit of my dream, I have overcome so many fears that gradually, I've gotten more courageous. Undoubtedly, a lot of bumps and holes awaits me on the road ahead. But never will I give up, simply because I'm fortunate enough to have all the muses to push me forward. 

MY MISSION, MY MUSE.

Just a few weeks ago, one of the job candidates asked me during his interview:

 "Have you ever thought of given up?".

He was talking about a project I'm working on. I took around 5 seconds to come up with an answer. During that 5 seconds, a few faces and images flashed through my mind. I was taken back to 3 years ago, when I was lost in a maze of a thousand choices. As a rebel in class, I hated college. The lengthy lectures bored me to sleep, and the exams scared the life out of me. My heart was always drenched with uncertainty despite the many opportunities that were offered to me. I knew something was wrong. "Who should I become?" - I wondered.

On November, 2012, I decided to join a volunteering campaign named "Green Summer" at school out of curiosity. And in the blink of an eye, I was changed. I quickly realized that no matter who I become, my mission is to change the life of others, like how others have changed mine. At the end of the day, it is my mission, not my job, that defines me and my future. 

"No, there's no way I'm giving up." 

That was my answer. I meant every word of it. So long as I am still alive and kicking, I would never want to lose track of my mission. The moment I let go of it, my whole existence and identity will shatter. To this day, the thought of changing other's lives has been the biggest muse to drive me forward. 

MY PEOPLE, MY MUSE.

Last night I stayed up until 2 AM to work on my project. It would have been just another working night if I had not received an email from my assistant at 1 AM. She completed the work just as well as I expected despite the fact that it was one hour over midnight. "Why?" - I asked myself. 

Last weekend, our team held an event as part of the project. We invited some parents to tag along behind our students as they ran around the park. It was 37 degree Celsius outside, yet some parents would run ceaselessly under the burning sun to join their kids. "Why?" - I asked myself. 

Last month, we were lucky enough to recruit a talented teacher to our team. She has plenty of experience working for multicultural organizations and her English is excellent. Despite her busy schedule, she volunteered to help us with our latest event. As one of the custodians for the scavenger hunt, she waited patiently for our students to finish their tasks regardless of the killing heat. "Why?" - I asked myself.

You know, maybe I am doing something right, something that others can relate themselves to, something that they believe in. 

"My people", as I call them, share my dreams and hopes. We're after the same rainbow's end. Even if I fail, I firmly believe that my dream cannot die as long as I still have them as my muse. 

We're after the same rainbow's end.

With a pocketful of muses, and a heart full of passion, I'll be okay. 

Thanks for reading. 

THE HEART OF LIFE IS GOOD

I do not believe in Jesus Christ, Buddha, Krishna or any other religious figures. It is not because I lack faith or refuse to have one but simply that life itself is miraculous and forgiving. For all the wonders in the world, life definitely deserves more credit. As humans though, we tend to let pains overcast the goodness of life to actually see how blessed we are just to be alive. I, myself, is also a victim of self-pity. Whenever I feel like being thrown off the track, I need to be reminded that "The heart of life is good". 

ALL ROADS LEAD TO ROME

My dad is an amazing person and truly inspirational. His childhood was filled with long hours of manual labor and non-stop beating from my granddad. At the age of 20, he entered Vietnam Military Medical Academy against all odds and graduated with honors. His life from then on got better, but was still a struggle. He was barely making any money for himself when he first became a doctor. It was until my dad was 40 that his life began to pick up when he held a Ph.D. 

My mom's childhood was far different. Despite the war, her dad still managed to make ends meet and provided his big family with more than just the bare necessities. As a kid, my mom got a good education and by the time she was 20, she was earning way much more than she needed. She got married to my dad when she was 27. 

At the moment, my mom and dad has been married for over 25 years. They have 2 children together. They live in same the house. And they share the same living condition. 

So, if you think about it, it is remarkable how their lives collide regardless of their different starting points. 

THE HEART OF LIFE IS GOOD.

Take a look around and you shall be amazed at how many people are sharing the same kinds of success and happiness even though they have extremely different backgrounds leading them to take different paths. Sometimes, a former drug addict can be at the exact same intersection as a scholar. This doesn't mean that life is unfair to the scholar, it just proves that life offers tons of opportunities for those of us who are born less fortunate, or used to travel down the dark path. 

I have a hard time keeping my head up in desperate times. More often than not, I take pity on myself. I cry and blame the reality that, at the time, seems cruel to me. I know I only have the choice to feel better and happier for my sake and others' around me. In the darkest moments, it is my life itself that wakes me up. It becomes so clear to me now that simply my existence is a product of a hard-working machine called life. It throws me, and you, into the pit so that we be aware of not only our pains but also the struggles of the other half of the world. From then on, things shall be fine. 

For those who think you are inferior to others because of your backgrounds or your past mistakes, please don't. It gets bad before it good. And life will grant you the chances to turn things around. 

"It gets bad before it gets good" 

In all fairness, the heart of life is good. 

Thanks for reading

ALL THE RIGHT FEARS

"Fear" in Inside Out

In the world of filmography, "fear" is not an unpopular concept. We have hundreds of horror movies scrolling out each year, some of which may not make it to the big screen, yet they are constantly being produced to meet our countless demands. There are also well-known movies titled "Who's afraid of Virginia Wolf?", "Primal Fear" or "Who's afraid of the dark?" etc. that quickly gained reputation after their premieres. In my beloved 2015 Pixar animation "Inside out", Fear is one of the many adorable characters that contributed to the success of the picture.

In our world though, we avoid talking about fears, or even acknowledging them however real they are. Society creates so much pressure on us to not "be afraid". And yes, I believe that is most cases, being fearless makes us stronger to pursue our dreams. But should we always stay fearless? And really, could we?

ON BEING FEARLESS

My mom told me not shortly after I entered kindergarten that I was a "bizarre" girl as I wasn't afraid of performing dangerous tasks that could have easily hurt me. Most of the "allegedly dangerous" things I did like playing with the iron (then getting burnt on the foot), scraping the razors against my palms or setting the blanket on fire (that was close!) basically came from my inexplicable curiosity as a young child. I couldn't anticipate the consequences so I was fearless. 

As children, we were daring because either our tiny brains weren't able to comprehend the outcomes of our misadventures (or as my mother said "what could have been") or we refused to think about them as the thrill took us over. Either way, these misadventures has taught us survival 101. For me, these are definitely hard-earned lessons that never fail to bring a smile to my face :) 

... AND FEARFUL

Well into my late-teenage years, I slowly realized that life is more about "having meanings" rather than merely "existing". When I was 18, my heart was always scared. Deep down, I knew I wasn't living my life as I should have been, and that my whole existence was that of an empty shell overtaken by a vicious circle of endless routines. This went on more dreadfully as I entered university and became quickly aware of my detachment from my own little world. I would go to school having so much fun and go to bed full of self-doubts. All that time, fear crept up to me the way it never had: painful and persistent. Letting time pass me by, among other fears, was the most vivid to me. My struggle lasted until I decided to not live for myself anymore, but to bring more goodness to the world. 

FEAR IS A FRIEND WHO'S MISUNDERSTOOD

My identity crisis has ended, but my fears still remain. Obviously, I have never been fearless as I used to believe as a kid. Strangely enough, I am happier than I could ever be, and in my mind, such an abstract concept of "life" is slowly being revealed in all shapes and colors. My early-life meltdown has brought me to believe that fear itself may be the highest form of uncertainty. At the age of 18, I was standing at the intersection of a hundred different paths I could have taken, choosing one of them bore so much burden on me that I crashed. But I got up, and came to terms with a fact: with fear, comes responsibility. However uncertain I am, it is never an answer to forfeit the fight and be satisfied with the reality, one that I know is no longer my safe house. The world, as I came out of my doubts, welcomed me with big arms.



If you think about it, since the dawn of time, it is fear that has kept us all alive and kicking. The fear of hunger, the fear of darkness, the fear of death and suchlikes have forced us to fend for ourselves and our loved ones. 

Fear is a real friend after all, don't you think? 

Thanks for reading