Sometimes, I saw him sitting reading or writing in the room next to the communal swimming pool, his thoughtful eyes looking out at the quiet green space. Sometimes, I caught him speaking in a gentle, emotional voice, kindly asking each person in the group – young people who were the age of his children and grandchildren. His slow but steady gait on the journey to conquer Goga peak made me secretly admire him.
In you, there is something that is both strong as rock and soft as water.
His hair was white, his smile was always kind. But what moved me most was seeing his eyes suddenly become distant whenever he mentioned his parents or his daughter. A man who had experienced so much joy and sorrow, lived a life full of experiences, yet still choked up when talking about his parents, still teared up when talking about his beloved child. In him, there was something as strong as stone, yet as soft as water – like a child when thinking of his parents and like the ocean when thinking of his child.
For you, what makes you realize what is the most important thing about time?
That comes from my own experience with my parents. Every human being is a lifetime. And when that life is written into a book, it is like an “afterlife” – a way for humans to be present with humanity for a long time. It is a very sacred thing.
Our parents’ generation is very different. When we are young, we tend to spend time with friends, lovers, colleagues… relationships that are colorful and new. But parents are… always there, as a matter of course. We easily forget their presence, or take it for granted. Only at some point, often too late, do we suddenly understand: it turns out their presence is something we should never take for granted.
Join the drawing workshop with Mr. Trinh Lu at Amanoi
It seems like memory plays a big role in what you write and translate?
That’s right! Every time I write a book, especially when translating, I feel so many memories come back to me. Sometimes just one sentence, one word, is enough to make me remember something very special.
If I had not sat down to write down my mother’s life, I probably wouldn’t be able to sit still like I am now. Writing books, especially translating books about art and specific people, always evokes in me very familiar and close things.
Once, while translating a book on Chinese painting, he suddenly remembered the words his father had told him when he was a child. The details seemed to have been blurred by time, but at that moment they appeared intact and vivid, as if they had never left.
I feel like everything is very familiar, like the marbles and chalks of the past. So many issues that seem complicated: faith, kindness, outlook on life… it turns out that my parents taught me all of them in the past. It’s just that I wasn’t calm enough to realize them.
For young people today, understanding themselves is probably a difficult journey. What do you think about that?
Many people mistakenly think that understanding oneself is just sitting around thinking about oneself, struggling with desires, with unanswered questions. But in fact, understanding oneself is also a journey back – finding one’s roots, learning about one’s parents, one’s origins. That is what helps one understand oneself better, strengthening one’s inner qualities.
Walking and chatting with young people in the nature of Nui Chua
You once said: translation is not just translating, but putting yourself into that story. Can you elaborate on this?
In the past, I thought that translation was just a translation, a change of words. Later, I realized that the translator puts the whole story, and himself, into it. The choice of words sometimes comes from the subconscious. I don’t know why I write like that, but it reflects the deepest things in me – from the subconscious, the unconscious, from the whole genetic history. People don’t start learning when they are born, but in fact, they are continuing, extending a flow that has existed since before. If I have children, my children will also follow me like that. That is biological nature – DNA is what carries all the characteristics passed down through many generations. I was born with a whole treasure!
On the way to conquer Goga peak
So if humans are a continuation, is there any way for future generations to avoid repeating the damage and breakage?
You have to understand. You have to go back and understand. Even if it is painful. I am lucky that my family does not have deep conflicts. But I know that many other families do. There are parents who abandon their children, there are parents who do not acknowledge their children, and sometimes the children even rebel because they are not understood. Those seemingly absurd things are actually very close to the survival instinct of species.
As I once read about lions, when the female is no longer a condition to ensure the survival of the species, it is forced to be eliminated. Those harsh laws, when applied to humans, partly explain the breakdowns and cracks in seemingly unreasonable family relationships.
Everything has a reason. And it is important to understand that deep reason, from there we can be tolerant, sympathetic, and find connection with our loved ones, especially our parents.
No matter what age, people suddenly become innocent when standing before the pure beauty of nature.
Uncle Trinh Lu on Goga peak
And after that understanding, what is important?
It is tolerance. It is finding connection again. When we understand the depths of each person, especially with our loved ones, forgiveness will come as a natural reflex. And we will learn to love without conditions.
Thank you Mr. Trinh Lu for taking the time to chat with Travellive!
