I’ve found Home
I was far away from Home. When I was a child, adults told me “Little girl, if you try hard enough, one day you’ll become somebody.”
So I did. I got myself busy. Busy getting Somebody’s good grade, hanging out with Somebody’s friends, doing Somebody’s work, earning Somebody’s promotion. So as to buy Somebody’s dress, please Somebody’s lover, perfect that Somebody’s image. Being Somebody brought me short pleasures and long emptiness. When I looked in the mirror, I could not love what I saw.
When I have a moment to sit still and be quiet, I’ll hear a whisper, excruciatingly loving, “Dear, you are so lost. Let it go. Come Home” But how can I let this Somebody go? Without this Somebody what am I?
I write “Coming Home” for the young people who suffer because deep down they know they are lost in Somebody’s world, but don’t know how to let go.
This book is my long quiet journey home. In this 25-year journey I’ve learnt how to make peace with the past, make the future welcome, and make love with Present. Above all, I’ve learnt how love myself.
I’ve found Home.
Home is the place where I where I feel peace, joy, love; the place where I feel so utterly myself - not a confined limited imposed definition of self “Milena, Vietnamese, artist, pretty, smart” - but a truer Self - large, light, and limitless and free like… How do I describe it? Like the wind and the sky and the oak tree, and the eagle that took wings from its highest branch, like the twinkle in the eyes of a newborn baby in a tribe that lives next to the riverbank where the eagle soars past. Free and overflowing like that river.
I am no sage or saint or some righteous person. I am just a friend reaching out to you with many stories and a single yearning to connect. So consider this book a letter from a friend from far away. I hope as you read this book, you feel the courage to be you. You feel the self-love to take off your masks and look at yourself in the clear mirror, smile and say “This is me.”
I hope you read this book the way you lick honey on a teaspoon. You are 5 years old and have never tasted honey. Your grandmother tells you it is good, because it is made with love of 1000 bees. So you put some on the tip of your tongue, you feel its sweetness and softness. Slow slowly, it is good. And so even though you’ve never seen a bee, the bee touches your heart.