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Fear as only a thing of the past - Part 1

Update: 06/07/2017
If someone asks you: "What are you most afraid of?" Will you keep silent or answer?

Fear as only a thing of the past - Part 1


Perhaps you are afraid of a small worm, a cute beetle, or an invisible world you have not seen before! You may also be afraid of death, of illness, of misery, of loneliness, of betrayal, of separation, of deserted land, etc. But one thing I know for sure is you will honestly never dare answer that question. Just because, you are scared! You are afraid not only of what you are currently afraid of, but also of people’steasing, of being humiliated, of the smirks of those who take your fear for joy. So, you try to hide it, keep it hidden in the heart. So why don't you try to face your own fear to overcome it, instead of avoiding it forever to live with fear? There will be many causes for fear and there are also many ways to subdue and transform it. Do you want to overcome your fear? If so, you can go with me to conquer the fear. Are you ready? Let's go on.

 When I was little, I was scared of an animal that would make people laugh if I tell them what it is. For everyone it may be lovely, benign and harmless. But to me it has been a sad childhood memory to this day.

Homeland with childhood

Before I talk about my fear and the way to transform it, I will take you back to the river of childhood memories, where many of the memories of the past have been buried.

When I was a child, my father asked me to go into the field to watch out for thieves, because many people did not cultivate during the year but still preferred to harvest first and watch the herd of buffaloes to prevent them from trampling on the field. The hut was located right in the middle of the field, so it was convenient to have an eye on everything around. The hut was covered with leaves, set on a high, airy mound, resembling a leafy house built on a romantic beach, which was looked out to vast sea of ​​sky. And my hut is not less than that: it looked out to a whole green carpet of corn fields stretching to the horizon, where the mountain ranges lay. The vast rice fields had turned yellow waiting for the harvest. The crooked village roads were bending between the bundles of   bamboo. Cows were wagging their tails, birds were singing and gliding in the sky peacefully; the smoke from the dinner kitchen loaded up, wading through the roof of the cottages, winding, creating a silk ribbon connecting heaven and earth. There were also wind gusts with the smell of wet leaves in the field, mixed in the smell of weeds and forest flowers. All created a poetic, dreamy beauty that would make the poet forget about his way back. And the little cowboy had a moment of sitting happily on the back of the buffalo playing flute, reciting poetry. This is my peaceful and quiet home.

The days of the harvesting season often fell on my summer vacation. So early in the morning, my peers and I together carried out the task assigned by our parents. We were like warriors. The weapon we brought with us was a lanyard; we also brought a bottle of water and a lunch box. This was the time that kids like me loved the most, because we did not have to think about our school work all day long. Many of us played folk games such as   tug of war, snatching flags, hide and seek... The game also had winners, of course. There were always quarrels. We ran and scattered around. The strong boy laughed when he won, the weak one cried loudly asking for his big brother. But we would soon forget all and still be happy to find each other to play the next day. When bored, each of us came back to our own kingdom. The hut became an ideal place to rest. I lay on the hammock swaying, watching the beauty of nature and listening to the melodious sounds of the wind, blowing bubbly, rushing through the hut to make it vibrate to make creaking sound. The sounds of cicadas calling summer, of little birds looking for prey, of frogs croaking under the ditch, all of which blended together to create a great country symphony.

Translated into English by Doan Thanh Truc

Cao Tam

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