One of the best weeks of my life – that was last week in northern Vietnam with my dad. The perfect place – Hanoi, then by train to Sapa. The perfect weather – a miracle to be in Southeast Asia and not hot and sweaty. The perfect people – my dad’s affinity for his Vietnamese students transferred to a whole country. The trip itself is best conveyed in photos and video (I’ll leave that to the 35 min movie I made!) but here I want to share something else about the experience that film doesn’t convey.
Sometimes you hear of people trying to makeup for lost times or words in a quick fix, late-in-life parent-child trip. This wasn’t what we needed, since we connect often. But how precious the chance to travel just the two of us and kindle our relationship as adult friends.
I’ve always loved my dad’s vacation persona. The moment he gets on the plane, he seems to discard any tension and stress. He’s in the present moment and ready to experience and enjoy whatever comes his way. It was particularly humbling this trip as I saw a man with more knowledge in his brain than most of the world’s computers be so curious and open to new things. Also humbling was his ability to power through crippling jetlag and trek dozens of kilometers.
I’m reminded of Thich Nhat Hanh’s talk on transmission through parents. Seems we try to downplay the biological connection, perhaps being afraid of being too deterministic. And heaven forbid we suggest we aren’t completely self-made. But being with my dad this week I experienced a physical and mental state that I associate only with being deep in nature for long periods. The peaceful, right feeling of being in nature, that feeling that all is well and you are whole and this is just as it should be. Without the worries and pulls of past and future but with all the depth that history and time provide. That’s how it felt with him.
The feeling manifested itself in an uncanny ability to take naps, something that has alluding me for most of my adult life. I had nothing cluttering my mind. I just laid down and dozed into a deep dreamland. I was reminded of squeezing in next to him in his lazyboy as he watched the nightly news, hoping he wouldn’t notice it was past my bedtime. I would try to time my breath with his. His huge chest and deep breaths engulfed me.
The transmission is palpable when I’m with him. It’s the transmission of life through him to me. It is more original to my existence than water or air.
Our time together was priceless for our conversations and shared experiences of travel together. But perhaps even more to be close to him and feel this transmission of life – beyond words, actions or thoughts – just to be together and feel life as it happened.
Sometimes you hear of people trying to makeup for lost times or words in a quick fix, late-in-life parent-child trip. This wasn’t what we needed, since we connect often. But how precious the chance to travel just the two of us and kindle our relationship as adult friends.
I’ve always loved my dad’s vacation persona. The moment he gets on the plane, he seems to discard any tension and stress. He’s in the present moment and ready to experience and enjoy whatever comes his way. It was particularly humbling this trip as I saw a man with more knowledge in his brain than most of the world’s computers be so curious and open to new things. Also humbling was his ability to power through crippling jetlag and trek dozens of kilometers.
I’m reminded of Thich Nhat Hanh’s talk on transmission through parents. Seems we try to downplay the biological connection, perhaps being afraid of being too deterministic. And heaven forbid we suggest we aren’t completely self-made. But being with my dad this week I experienced a physical and mental state that I associate only with being deep in nature for long periods. The peaceful, right feeling of being in nature, that feeling that all is well and you are whole and this is just as it should be. Without the worries and pulls of past and future but with all the depth that history and time provide. That’s how it felt with him.
The feeling manifested itself in an uncanny ability to take naps, something that has alluding me for most of my adult life. I had nothing cluttering my mind. I just laid down and dozed into a deep dreamland. I was reminded of squeezing in next to him in his lazyboy as he watched the nightly news, hoping he wouldn’t notice it was past my bedtime. I would try to time my breath with his. His huge chest and deep breaths engulfed me.
The transmission is palpable when I’m with him. It’s the transmission of life through him to me. It is more original to my existence than water or air.
Our time together was priceless for our conversations and shared experiences of travel together. But perhaps even more to be close to him and feel this transmission of life – beyond words, actions or thoughts – just to be together and feel life as it happened.