My OperaThe moment
Sunday, July 19, 2009 2:32:35 AM
"So you live for the moment," she told me.
Living for the moment? There was a time when that was all it is to me. But now, in our conversation, I never used that particular word. I described something I fell - an attitude in life, a philosophy perhaps - and she named it for me.
It started by her telling me that she wanted to be able to share everything with her boyfriend - or, in its general implication, people she really cared about. She confided in me so comfortably, as if we were close friends - despite the fact that this was probably the first personal conversation between us. I'd never want to leave something like that not reciprocated; and actually, she and her boyfriend are not that much different from me and mine in principle. That's why I knew what she just said was impossible.
No matter what, we wouldn't be able to share our childhood in Vietnam with our American boyfriends. Even if they care and try to learn.
As for me, I have lived in Vietnam, Canada, Costa Rica, and here - the States. Each chapter of my life contains different lifestyles, people, habits, and memories. They rarely overlap, if at all. Sometimes I find a connection here and there, sometimes a flavor of one in another. But no single person will be able to fully understand. Jin tried, and tried hard at it. I appreciate the effort. But no matter how hard he tried or how considerate he was, things that were so dear to me didn't and would never evoke the same sentiments and significance in him.
That's what I told her. I also told her that I had learned to accept it. At some point in the past, I was sitting in a cafe, quite like this actually, admiring the rain outside, and thinking that there wasn't much point in wanting to share everything with a single person and having them try, unsuccessfully, to understand or pretend to see the joy and meaning in something they can't relate to. Instead I learned to share when and with whom it actually matters. The first step to that is to realize everyone is an interesting person to learn about and worth to share your life with, no matter how well or not well you know them, and without being judgmental - like she and I right now at the dinner table, like every stranger I run into at an airport, like the suicidal person at the other end of the Samaritan line that I know nothing about. When there is not enough information to make any judgment fair , our interaction is the only thing that matters and enjoying it is the only reaction that should be had.
With this friend of mine, soon enough we began to talk about our early days in Vietnam: what it was like to be the elementary class president/ vice president, to gather with other kids in our neighborhood and "nhay day", to grow up being not-so-well-off, to recall our family drifting apart as a trade-off for a more sufficient material life. We went through things to things, merely named them, sometimes told a story, laughed about it, as we would have done with someone who was a stranger to the experience. We didn't say much really, but so many things were said - not through our words, but through our eyes, and mind, and the knowledge that this actually meant something to the other person. It was like this time when I talked to Jesse about UWCCR and enjoyed it, despite the fact that we hardly communicated with each other when we both were there.
Some relationships get developed, some I'd never see again in my life; but that doesn't matter. Enjoying the conversation, the interaction, while it's happening, is all that I've ever wanted to do.
And should anyone wants to share anything with me, whether personal or not, whether I know them or not, I always care and love to know.
Living for the moment? There was a time when that was all it is to me. But now, in our conversation, I never used that particular word. I described something I fell - an attitude in life, a philosophy perhaps - and she named it for me.
It started by her telling me that she wanted to be able to share everything with her boyfriend - or, in its general implication, people she really cared about. She confided in me so comfortably, as if we were close friends - despite the fact that this was probably the first personal conversation between us. I'd never want to leave something like that not reciprocated; and actually, she and her boyfriend are not that much different from me and mine in principle. That's why I knew what she just said was impossible.
No matter what, we wouldn't be able to share our childhood in Vietnam with our American boyfriends. Even if they care and try to learn.
As for me, I have lived in Vietnam, Canada, Costa Rica, and here - the States. Each chapter of my life contains different lifestyles, people, habits, and memories. They rarely overlap, if at all. Sometimes I find a connection here and there, sometimes a flavor of one in another. But no single person will be able to fully understand. Jin tried, and tried hard at it. I appreciate the effort. But no matter how hard he tried or how considerate he was, things that were so dear to me didn't and would never evoke the same sentiments and significance in him.
That's what I told her. I also told her that I had learned to accept it. At some point in the past, I was sitting in a cafe, quite like this actually, admiring the rain outside, and thinking that there wasn't much point in wanting to share everything with a single person and having them try, unsuccessfully, to understand or pretend to see the joy and meaning in something they can't relate to. Instead I learned to share when and with whom it actually matters. The first step to that is to realize everyone is an interesting person to learn about and worth to share your life with, no matter how well or not well you know them, and without being judgmental - like she and I right now at the dinner table, like every stranger I run into at an airport, like the suicidal person at the other end of the Samaritan line that I know nothing about. When there is not enough information to make any judgment fair , our interaction is the only thing that matters and enjoying it is the only reaction that should be had.
With this friend of mine, soon enough we began to talk about our early days in Vietnam: what it was like to be the elementary class president/ vice president, to gather with other kids in our neighborhood and "nhay day", to grow up being not-so-well-off, to recall our family drifting apart as a trade-off for a more sufficient material life. We went through things to things, merely named them, sometimes told a story, laughed about it, as we would have done with someone who was a stranger to the experience. We didn't say much really, but so many things were said - not through our words, but through our eyes, and mind, and the knowledge that this actually meant something to the other person. It was like this time when I talked to Jesse about UWCCR and enjoyed it, despite the fact that we hardly communicated with each other when we both were there.
Some relationships get developed, some I'd never see again in my life; but that doesn't matter. Enjoying the conversation, the interaction, while it's happening, is all that I've ever wanted to do.
And should anyone wants to share anything with me, whether personal or not, whether I know them or not, I always care and love to know.
