With palms together,
Good Morning All,
Waking to rolling thunder and a wet breeze I am reminded of jungles and the scent of fear. Its odd how one thing recalls another, but I believe this is how our mind works; a sort of memory karmic action.
Yesterday I had occasion to meet an elder writer. At 98 she has come out with a memoir. She is a delightful woman and sat gracefully in a chair signing her book. I sat next to her for awhile. On my other shoulder was a man I had met elsewhere. A Vietnam combat vet, like myself, who still cannot sleep and still is haunted by decades old demons.
We talked.
Both people had memories, both said they wished some of their memories would disappear, yet one uses her memories to contextualize her life; the other finds memory a felonious intrusion.
As I sat between them, I remembered a return trip to Vietnam I took with my wife and some other Vietnam Vets some years ago. I recalled sitting at a long table in a dining room in some humid northern province. One side, an array of American Vietnam veterans; the other side, an array of North Vietnamese Army veterans. We traded shots, this time however, the shots were not metal, but rather cheap Russian vodka.
We shared stories and photographs, we laughed and cried. Just a mess of sloppy human beings discovering our ability to forgive and embrace. I noticed as I told this story, my veteran friend withdrew and responded with a slight degree of fear. I think it is this that so deeply separates us.
Today I sat in a beautiful living room with a group of talented writers, eating petifiores and sipping punch. Almost odd, but so distinctly human.
Fear is a clear hindrance in our mind. If allowed, it drives us into caves of darkness wherein every shadow is a killer. Yet I know it is possible to be like a small candle. Still, and serene illuminating without blazing, teaching ourselves that the monsters we fear are only ourselves in darkness.
Be well.
dep lam
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