A Quiet Becoming: Courage to Walk into the Unknown

Viễn Ng. Levon

For women standing between who they were and who they are becoming.


A reflection on identity, loss, and the quiet courage it takes to face uncertainty, to trust yourself and trust life when the path ahead is still unfolding.

 

I sat on a rocky stretch of beach in Nice. The wind tugged at my coat. Waves crashed quietly at my feet. I felt the strange weight of not knowing who I was anymore.

The life I had built was suddenly behind me. The work I had poured myself into. The home and family I loved. The public recognition I carried.

And ahead? Only uncertainty.

Recognizing the End of an Old Identity


There are moments in a woman’s life when the identity that once defined her no longer fits. Not because it lost its purpose. But because it has completed its work.

For many years, I was known publicly as a woman working in anti-corruption. I stood in formal rooms with ambassadors and decision-makers, carrying responsibility, authority, and visibility. I gave media interviews, represented my organization at international events, and spoke on panels where important decisions were being shaped.

From the outside, the narrative was clear. The role made sense. The work mattered.


Facing the Unknown Within


The sudden move from Vietnam to France was deeply painful and disorienting. What made it so destabilizing was not the loss of status. It was the cascading losses of national impact, my homeland, the work I had devoted myself to, and the passing of my mother.

I found myself in uncharted inner terrain. I no longer recognized who I was becoming.

Even with the support of a therapist, I felt something deeply buried inside remained untouched. I could not describe my emotions. I only knew I felt stuck and unsure where life was leading me.

For years, I had defined myself through my home, my family, and my work as a leader in the anti-corruption field in Vietnam. Suddenly, I had none of that as reference.

Who was I now? What was I going to do? What was my purpose?

I remember sitting by the sea in Nice, my heart heavy. I sensed a quiet call I could not yet name. It was not a call the world could see. It was an invitation to embrace the full range of emotions I was experiencing. To trust myself. To trust life. To allow a new identity to quietly emerge, even during turbulence.


The Strength to Stay Present


This in-between space can feel confusing and lonely. It requires more than confidence.

It requires courage- the courage to be uncomfortable. To feel fear and uncertainty. To stay present without clarity. To trust your inner knowing when external validation falls silent.

It also requires patience and gentleness, as the old identity slowly dissolves and a new one begins to form.

This was not a reinvention for the world to applaud. It was an inner shift. A re-authoring of who I am, why I am here, and what is now possible for me.

What emerged over time was quieter. Deeper. More aligned with my inner truth.

Finding Power in Lived Experience


Today, my work unfolds in intimate spaces. One-to-one conversations. Women’s circles. Mentoring relationships.

Here, presence matters more than recognition or approval.

The authority I carry now does not come from titles. It comes from lived transformation.

In guiding other women through their own transitions, I have learned that the courage to embrace the unknown is often the most powerful teacher.

In my experience, this courage means allowing yourself to be present. Letting the situation unfold. Remaining open and curious about what wants to emerge.

When the path ahead is unclear, trust that life will guide you. The woman you are becoming is already unfolding within you.


An Invitation to Your Becoming


If you find yourself standing at the edge of the unknown, between who you were and who you are becoming, know that this space is not a failure of direction.

It is not a void. It is an initiation.

Stay. Listen. Trust.

The woman you are becoming already knows the way.


  • Where in your life is an old identity no longer fitting, while who you are becoming still quietly forming?
  • How are you staying present to notice what is emerging within you?


If this resonates with your own in-between space, you’re welcome to connect with me here in Nice, through a women’s circle, a 1:1 session, or simply a conversation.

By Viễn Nguyễn Levon January 13, 2026
One day, while scrolling social media, I unexpectedly returned to Taoism. It felt like chance.  Four years ago, arriving in France after suddenly fleeing Vietnam, Taoism quietly entered my life. My beloved aunt introduced it gently. Too shaken to grasp it fully, I only knew it helped me breathe, slow down, and stay afloat amid chaos. This time, curiosity lingered. I paused. I clicked. Each step led from Taoist philosophy to Tai Chi, and finally to Wudang Mountain, China's most sacred Taoist site and Tai Chi's birthplace.
By Viễn Nguyễn Levon January 13, 2026
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