Password: WRali
“Listen to your breathing, your heartbeat, to the sigh of your lover. Listen to the sound of the ocean, to the rustle of the leaves in the wind. Stop talking, and really take the time to listen.”
We spend so much time walking through life, but not a lot of time really living it. Listening gives you the opportunity to be where you are. To see beyond yourself, into a world that isn’t just your own, a world you’re sharing.
I hear the waves. Crashing over and over, as me and my friends fight them with our surf boards, trying to make it out to the open water. They’re so crisp and expectedly unexpected. I hear my friends squeal and giggle as the waves take us under. I hear my heart beating, exhausted from fighting, but still so willing to go on.
I learn Vietnamese phrases from my friends. It’s a difficult language to pick up with a range of tone and inflections. I mimick what they say and move my words up and down, soft and loud just as they do. “Toy ew kong cha,” I repeat, “I love dogs.” The sounds of their language and our constant laughs surround me. And though their smiles don’t have words, I still hear them so clearly.
We visit the ancient city. It’s full of color and lights and people. There’s an ease in the air. I fall in love with Hoi An and in love with my life. There’s a river full of boats of all sizes, and paper lit lanterns. We step into a small boat with our English students and I hear their boisterous, nervous laughs. They never learned how to swim. They are fully putting their trust in us as they step into our boat. I guess that’s what friendship is. You invite someone into your boat, and when they step in they’re putting their trust in you. It really says something about your friendship if they choose to step in even when the water is high, it’s dark, and they never learned how to swim.
In our boat, we each hold our lanterns, waiting for the right moment to release them into the water. Like knowing when to release your heart to someone else. To let it go, let it ride the current, fully knowing you might not ever get it back. But beauty and love weren’t meant to be held closely, so safely. I hear my fingers subtly grace the water. I hear the sounds of my friends sweet voices, ones who’ve chosen to share my boat with me. I hear my lantern embrace the water below it. The sounds of it’s slight resistance, but also of it’s elegance when the lantern and the water decide to become one.
I hear the wind. We ride motos along the oceanside, up and down and throughout the mountain. I hear the engine putter and rev, working just as hard as my brain is to process what my life even is. I look up into the trees and I see monkeys. Actual wild and free monkeys, living as they please. I hear the sound of the trees rustle as they jump from one branch to another. I listen to them, and we share moments of serene silence. I’m looking at them, and they’re looking at me. It’s the first time I’ve seen a monkey anywhere other than a zoo and my heart flutters with joy. ‘Good for you little monkey,’ I think, you go on and live your life as you were meant to, so wild, so free.
I hear all of these things. My ears have always had the ability to listen, but my brain doesn’t always do them justice. I hear waves and giggles, wind and water. I hear them all because I’m listening. And I hear my heart because I choose to. It says to see myself and those around me, to find joy in the small moments, and to love fiercely, to love fiercely whatever’s in front of me.
What does your heart tell you?
