So there it is
The powers that be have been kind enough to allow us to leave work early. I would imagine this will happen all week. There’s not much to do, and even our unit colors have been “cased” (yeah, the ceremony went off without a hitch, although there were plenty of the “Oh God oh God oh God oh God” moments where everything was on the brink of collapse).
The unit is a flurry of activity. Papers are being packed away. Laptops are being placed into containers. Last-ditch attempts at shirking out of deployment are popping up in the forms of out-of-the-blue injuries and medical conditions. Females are still trying to get pregnant to dodge the war bullet. And those of us resigned to our fate in the maws of the engine of strife and conflict are waiting out our time.
The whole spectacle is like sitting on Earth, waiting for some gigantic asteroid to smash the world to smithereens. There are those panicking, those trying to fulfill every last desire, and those just watching the flaming ball of death roaring closer.
There’s a serenity to embracing fate. And I suppose it’s the same feeling men have felt for generations when accepting their part in the larger ensemble. At the risk of melodrama (well, I guess we’re there already), it’s sort of cool accepting life’s cards.
Say what you want about the politics about the war, it does little for the men and women there, living out each day, carving out a life among the maleficence of the men trying to end our lives.
The churning machinery of conflict and war have forged the character and hearts of millions of men and women throughout time. Those entering the fire are consumed and left changed: either physically or spiritually dead, or more alive than formerly possible.
I’d like to think that I’d be one of those watching the asteroid as it streaked closer. I’d like to believe that my understanding of God and our paths within the great story of humanity would allow me the calm to see life for what it is, instead of just a series of ephemeral kicks. I’d like to think that in that last moment, I’d be able to see beauty.
Because life is beautiful. The breeze is beautiful. Women are beautiful. The way the sun breathes through the morning mist is beautiful. I guess it takes the violence of war to know life. Sort of like how a forest fire can clear the way for new trees. It takes loss to know gain–all that crap.
It’s all a cycle, like our Buddhist friends say–hell like Ecclesiastes talks about. Now it’s time to go.
That’s all I got.