How Did I Get There?
Ahh. I left the laptop at home and have only been checking E-mail a bit. With everyone on vacation, there hasn't been much to check. That and the fact I haven't been very good at initiating or perpetuating conversation threads of late.
I had a bizarre and fun dream to wake up from this morning, along with a bit of instant karma for my dream behavior. Doesn't seem fair to have retribution in the waking world for a dream trip, but at least it wasn't in kind. Upon awakening I walked down a few blocks to get latte's and such for those still in the house, as well as a triple shot espresso and a wrap for myself. I'm on my own for an hour or two, and thought a bite to eat and a little journaling would be nice.
I'm walking across the street after the barrista stop. I stepped up on the curb edge managing to get some rotting leaves or sand underfoot creating a minor stumble as the foot slid back down and I regained my balance. The tray of coffee and latte decided on a little geyser action as I leaned forward and caught them. I thought it quite funny, though embarrassing as it happened. As though folks in Duncan, BC would care, I surreptitiously brushed the worst of the beverages from my face. A surprising amount made it through the sipping holes to my face. Judging by how full the cups were when I delivered them I don't think any of it missed my face.
My dream transgression involved a line for the ferry to West Seattle. Somehow the line of New York style of pushy cars on the pier turned into a queue of pedestrians with the same attitude. I held back a couple guys who were trying to cut into the line. "You won't get there any sooner by shoving," I said to calm them. "But we'll be in front of you!", they responded. Of course, I responded immediately and beat both of them soundly.
The real transgression was after putting them both out of action, and succumbing to the heat of battle and starting to strategically further beat the Hell out of them, like Ender. Unlike Ender I quite enjoyed myself. Regrettably, I woke up right then, before I really had a chance to revel or feel any regret. That is actually my bigger fear in physical confrontation, not that I will lose, but I'll not stop at the point of success and continue to the full satiation of my blood lust. It is fun in a dream, even if afterwards the gods douse me with coffee as retribution.
It seems peculiar at first, that I revel in warrior violence in dreams. I think it has to do with the dichotomy of my own psyche. I'm generally very gentle and considerate by choice and desire. I feel badly if I miss an opportunity to be courteous or generous. On the other hand I know I can go to the other extreme, even to the point of killing without second thoughts or qualms if I believe it is called for. Example. I was awarded an Air Medal with a Combat 'V'. The 'V' stands for valor, but in reality means it is the result of a specific combat action or mission. The unqualified Air Medals were for attaining a certain number of combat flights or hours.
Basically, I directed a coalition air strike to an active Scud sight. This wasn't particularly notable in my mind, as we were doing these kind of activities on every mission, often several times an hour. Someone thought this particular mission event was of note, or maybe it was simply because the pilot wrote it up for us -- both he and I were awarded the medal. I probably would never have reexamined what my combat actions resulted in if not for the medal. The point is I was the critical link between intelligence collection and the air wing. There were lots of links, but I was the only one in our communications chain which wasn't redundant. I'm also sure most of those strikes resulted in significant casualties.
Blah, blah. What all this thinking about violence as a warrior got me to wondering was the connection violence to kindness. I choose to be kind. Simply stated, it is a more enjoyable and fulfilling means of interaction for me. I started as a child through some mixture of upbringing and inclination, but now it is choice. I wonder if people who have a full realization of the violence they are capable of tend to be more sincere in their lack or embracement of kindness. Rather an unsettling thought. I've killed. Probably had my hand in hundreds, maybe even a few thousand deaths in the performance of my duties, which happily in the last war were defensive. Which is no consolation to those I fought. Let's look at a couple current events in this light.
Stanley "Tookie" Williams. A vicious, low-life, thug. Were his prison activities self-serving, or did he learn kindness in a way and degree that is hard for those who haven't been violent have trouble truly comprehending? When Arnold killed him, did he learn anything? Was killing Tookie or any of the others since he became governor the act of a warrior which gave him a better appreciation of compassion and kindness? Or was it a calculated and soulless political move with not an iota of courage, which if anything gave him a sick and fleeting arousal of some sort when he sanctioned the killings? I don't see how that could possibly give one insight into kindness. Is this insightful, or simply a warrior's conceit?
Second, and unsurprisingly for anyone who reads this journal, Iraq. I feel this war is based on deceit, and is illegal. Most of the combatants I have talked to feel the same way, which has to be devastating. They are committed to each other, so I'd say most of them remain noble warriors. There are of course exceptions on all sides in any war, but I believe most warriors on either side of a conflict are ethical and moral, though with cultural differences it may be hard to appreciate. The Bush administration are NOT warriors, though some politicians are.
Our current veterans need our support and understanding more than ever. It is hard enough for those in a war which they feel is righteous, it is devastating for those involved in a war which they can't condone. I know first hand there is a lot of discrimination against veterans, almost exclusively at the hands of conservatives. Not many conservatives would read this blog. I think zero would be an accurate estimate. So, you readers who are progressive or liberal or whatever you want to call yourselves, continue to support our veterans when they come home. It really is up to you.
It may seem Vietnam was recent, that we haven't learned a damn thing, and still have an insatiable desire for using our military might for it's own sake or the sake of profit for private enterprise. Think again. Look at our history, the wars with England, Indians, Spain, Mexico, etc. Forty years really is a long time between major conflicts. Welcome our veterans. Be the ones who give them a hand up. If it is done better than we did for the Vietnam vets, maybe the next unjustifiable war we'll pursue will be even more than forty years from now. Maybe we'll even find ways to avoid seemingly justifiable wars.
I had a bizarre and fun dream to wake up from this morning, along with a bit of instant karma for my dream behavior. Doesn't seem fair to have retribution in the waking world for a dream trip, but at least it wasn't in kind. Upon awakening I walked down a few blocks to get latte's and such for those still in the house, as well as a triple shot espresso and a wrap for myself. I'm on my own for an hour or two, and thought a bite to eat and a little journaling would be nice.
I'm walking across the street after the barrista stop. I stepped up on the curb edge managing to get some rotting leaves or sand underfoot creating a minor stumble as the foot slid back down and I regained my balance. The tray of coffee and latte decided on a little geyser action as I leaned forward and caught them. I thought it quite funny, though embarrassing as it happened. As though folks in Duncan, BC would care, I surreptitiously brushed the worst of the beverages from my face. A surprising amount made it through the sipping holes to my face. Judging by how full the cups were when I delivered them I don't think any of it missed my face.
My dream transgression involved a line for the ferry to West Seattle. Somehow the line of New York style of pushy cars on the pier turned into a queue of pedestrians with the same attitude. I held back a couple guys who were trying to cut into the line. "You won't get there any sooner by shoving," I said to calm them. "But we'll be in front of you!", they responded. Of course, I responded immediately and beat both of them soundly.
The real transgression was after putting them both out of action, and succumbing to the heat of battle and starting to strategically further beat the Hell out of them, like Ender. Unlike Ender I quite enjoyed myself. Regrettably, I woke up right then, before I really had a chance to revel or feel any regret. That is actually my bigger fear in physical confrontation, not that I will lose, but I'll not stop at the point of success and continue to the full satiation of my blood lust. It is fun in a dream, even if afterwards the gods douse me with coffee as retribution.
It seems peculiar at first, that I revel in warrior violence in dreams. I think it has to do with the dichotomy of my own psyche. I'm generally very gentle and considerate by choice and desire. I feel badly if I miss an opportunity to be courteous or generous. On the other hand I know I can go to the other extreme, even to the point of killing without second thoughts or qualms if I believe it is called for. Example. I was awarded an Air Medal with a Combat 'V'. The 'V' stands for valor, but in reality means it is the result of a specific combat action or mission. The unqualified Air Medals were for attaining a certain number of combat flights or hours.
Basically, I directed a coalition air strike to an active Scud sight. This wasn't particularly notable in my mind, as we were doing these kind of activities on every mission, often several times an hour. Someone thought this particular mission event was of note, or maybe it was simply because the pilot wrote it up for us -- both he and I were awarded the medal. I probably would never have reexamined what my combat actions resulted in if not for the medal. The point is I was the critical link between intelligence collection and the air wing. There were lots of links, but I was the only one in our communications chain which wasn't redundant. I'm also sure most of those strikes resulted in significant casualties.
Blah, blah. What all this thinking about violence as a warrior got me to wondering was the connection violence to kindness. I choose to be kind. Simply stated, it is a more enjoyable and fulfilling means of interaction for me. I started as a child through some mixture of upbringing and inclination, but now it is choice. I wonder if people who have a full realization of the violence they are capable of tend to be more sincere in their lack or embracement of kindness. Rather an unsettling thought. I've killed. Probably had my hand in hundreds, maybe even a few thousand deaths in the performance of my duties, which happily in the last war were defensive. Which is no consolation to those I fought. Let's look at a couple current events in this light.
Stanley "Tookie" Williams. A vicious, low-life, thug. Were his prison activities self-serving, or did he learn kindness in a way and degree that is hard for those who haven't been violent have trouble truly comprehending? When Arnold killed him, did he learn anything? Was killing Tookie or any of the others since he became governor the act of a warrior which gave him a better appreciation of compassion and kindness? Or was it a calculated and soulless political move with not an iota of courage, which if anything gave him a sick and fleeting arousal of some sort when he sanctioned the killings? I don't see how that could possibly give one insight into kindness. Is this insightful, or simply a warrior's conceit?
Second, and unsurprisingly for anyone who reads this journal, Iraq. I feel this war is based on deceit, and is illegal. Most of the combatants I have talked to feel the same way, which has to be devastating. They are committed to each other, so I'd say most of them remain noble warriors. There are of course exceptions on all sides in any war, but I believe most warriors on either side of a conflict are ethical and moral, though with cultural differences it may be hard to appreciate. The Bush administration are NOT warriors, though some politicians are.
Our current veterans need our support and understanding more than ever. It is hard enough for those in a war which they feel is righteous, it is devastating for those involved in a war which they can't condone. I know first hand there is a lot of discrimination against veterans, almost exclusively at the hands of conservatives. Not many conservatives would read this blog. I think zero would be an accurate estimate. So, you readers who are progressive or liberal or whatever you want to call yourselves, continue to support our veterans when they come home. It really is up to you.
It may seem Vietnam was recent, that we haven't learned a damn thing, and still have an insatiable desire for using our military might for it's own sake or the sake of profit for private enterprise. Think again. Look at our history, the wars with England, Indians, Spain, Mexico, etc. Forty years really is a long time between major conflicts. Welcome our veterans. Be the ones who give them a hand up. If it is done better than we did for the Vietnam vets, maybe the next unjustifiable war we'll pursue will be even more than forty years from now. Maybe we'll even find ways to avoid seemingly justifiable wars.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home