A PAUSE - HOA THIÊN PHÚC
A PAUSE - Hoa Thiên Phúc
Walking into the cemetery late one afternoon in the first days of winter, I lit incense for my grandparents on both sides and sat a while on that holy ground.
A year ago, at this very time, I had to climb hurriedly onto my bike and speed away from this holy ground. I was afraid! The fear of a young girl visiting a cemetery alone. The wind whistling past my ears, carrying the first cold of the season, chilled me all the more as I stood among hundreds, even thousands, of graves both named and unnamed. Truly a sacred place!
Today I came here alone again, but this time I was calmer, less afraid, and I felt something deeply still. I drew a long breath, lowered my eyes to the ground, thought of nothing, and simply listened to the sounds of nature. It was a blend of countless sounds — the stirring of tiny creatures, the rustle of wind through the grass and trees, or simply the breathing of the earth… and many other things I could not name. It had been a very long time since I had been able to take in such sounds. At that moment they felt to me truly like a grace, like a new breath of life added to my being. I sat in silence like that for a long while.
I opened my eyes and let them travel once over this holy ground, stopping at two graves in the distance. They were the graves of two young people, Maria and Antôn. The laughter and the voice of little Maria seemed still to echo in my ears from when we met at choir rehearsal; so too the shy face of young Antôn from my neighbourhood and the funny stories we told each other on the way home from the Children of Mary group meetings. It all came back clearly in my memory. It seems only yesterday, and yet the grass has already grown thick and green beside their graves. I was struck dumb thinking of them, thinking of how fragile the line is between life and death. Enough — I drew another long breath so that those images might soak into my flesh and blood, and so that I might live this moment fully.
I raised my eyes: the overcast sky of the rainy days, how dreary it was. Just a field and a road away, so much life was going on, so many people living side by side, exchanging smiles, affection, kind words… and passing on their sufferings to one another too. Here, everything was truly still.
Study, recreation, community activities… and other nameless things had swept me along so fast. In such a rush! I had the feeling I was drifting out of orbit, at risk of losing myself. There were times when I felt I was falling into a kind of depression: no goals, no motivation, listless, gloomy… Gathering all my courage, I asked for a pause!
Having stopped, I looked for a quiet place to listen to what my closest friend — "myself" — wanted to say to me right then. This holy ground truly is an ideal place, and it did not disappoint me.
Sooner or later everyone must bustle about in life. Grown-ups are busy with work, with worries from food and clothing to family…; young people are busy searching for an ideal, building a way of life; those younger still are busy with study and play… But there is no avoiding the moments of tension, weariness, discouragement and loneliness in the current of life. At such times, allow yourself to stop and rest a little, to recover your spirit and take on new energy. For it seems to me that without us the earth still turns, the sun still rises and every living thing still goes on struggling. But if there is a self full of vitality there, surely the colours of life will be that much more vivid, won't they?
