Don’t worry

About the darker words

About the blacker words

Poison exiting the body

Only leaves space for light

Bring it, healer.

I imagined a world without Auschwitz

A world without 9/11 and Gaza

No holocausts, no naqbas

Only dinners with fulsome family

Around the table nearest the hearth

But that would not be this place

And to be a part of this world

Is either to share in its pain

Or become its cause…

And we… we have mastered both

Eden was never so peaceful

As when it was empty

Which makes you wonder

If the intent was always death

And we were lied to

About getting everything we wanted

Words poured out to placate

To pacify the unruly child

It was always just a dream

From which we would be evicted

There is only

One dawn in a day

One sun that rises

Before our waking eyes

No matter how much we may wish

For a second light

To give us clearer sight

To lift and warm us

In the cold sea of life

We are embraced

By a single set of rays

As two would surely burn us

Leaving us as ash

Once I was in the artillery.

It was a while ago. I honorably discharged after 4 years.

Of the many forms of training was a grueling event in midsummer that required us to stay awake for 72 straight hours.

They didn’t even tell us this prior to the event. We thought we were going on a three day exercise that included sleep.

So, on day one, we set up our tents,  stripped naked (it was insanely hot and humid at this base along the shores of a great lake), and climbed into our sleeping bags… blissfully ignorant of the future.

Then, at about 2 a.m., we were shocked awake by the sound of artillery simulators exploding next to our tents.

ASIDE: An artillery simulator sounds like an artillery gun and can reach more than 170 decibels.  For reference, sounds above 150 dB can be life-threatening – 170-200 dB can cause lung damage, pulmonary embolisms, or even burst lungs. 

Much of what we endured is no longer legal. In hindsight, it was still fun, and no one died.

So, shocked awake, by artillery simulators and screaming corporals and sergeants and warrant officers, we rapidly got dressed, packed up camp, and stood in formation.

Dress consisted of combat fatigues, heavy combat boots, helmet, thick socks, belt, large backpack filled with extra combats,  camp supplies, weapon (approximately 4.5 kg or 10 pounds), several magazines of ammo (0.68 kg or 1.5 pounds) etc.

Overall, the average kit weighed between 36 to 45 kg or 80 to 100 pounds.

Orders were received. We were the good Canadian artillery (in infantry roles this week). Our officers and senior ranks comprised the enemy (somewhere out there).

Our role was to patrol the area and set up trenches on high ground surrounding a new camp before day’s end. Then, we would vigilantly guard the camp through the days ahead.

The days reached well over 30 degrees. Our senior ranks intentionally made us belly crawl through poison ivy. I left the experience infested with it.  No showers. Warm water in our canteens.

Most of us were exhausted before day one even came to an end.

Before sunset, we were digging trenches in the heat, with crappy combat shovels through five feet of shale.

The evening consisted of night attacks by “the enemy” filled with flares, artillery simulators, rifle and machinegun fire, and shouts of orders over the noise.

Rinse and repeat for three days without sleep. Clearly, I survived, and while I hated almost every moment of it, time has turned it into a good memory now.

The point of this story. Throughout the whole experience, I wanted nothing more than to strip to my shorts, throw away my helmet, and proceed with as little as possible.

In a real combat experience, this would have gotten me killed. This can be the same in life.

Often, the greatest weights we carry, the burdens we want to shed, are there for good reason. People, responsibilities, and experiences – they keep us alive, they keep us going, even when we may want to shed them the most, often, especially then.

When we are depressed, for example, we want to shed things that feel like burdens. We don’t want to get out of bed. We don’t want to shower or brush our teeth. We don’t want to get dressed. We don’t want to see other people. But these are often the very things that stave off depression or lift us from it.

There were so many moments I wanted to throw my rifle away. So many times, I wanted to toss my helmet in the woods. But I couldn’t… they were there to keep me safe even when I hated the burden.

No different than a firefighter’s heavy clothing, helmet, mask, and oxygen tank. Brutal burdens, but imagine if they were discarded in a moment of frustration… injury and death would soon follow.

What are you carrying with you that you want to toss? Before doing so, consider the reason the burden is there… it may just be keeping you alive.

Light pink flowers

Fade to white

Towards their heart

And they are beautiful

Though i don’t know why

But they attract my eye

This random assortment

Of fragile, fragrant petals

That are alive like me

Growing and seeking light

Like me

Speak of the value of simplicity

In a complex life

That doesn’t have to be

I look at myself

And i wonder

Is change possible

And of course I know

It is

Just review the journey

Where it started

Where it’s going

And all is change

But

Can I direct this change

Or am I flotsam

Drifting on a chaotic sea

Pushed by storms

To unknown shores

With no agency of my own

Nonsense

There is choice

And I will wrestle it

Like wild horses tied to a wagon

Though it take all my strength

If only I saw you

While dreaming

May I never wake again

And if only while awake

How but to find a way

To remain forever quick;

Such desperate ruminations

Best to sleep

And make the world

What we will

I caught a smile one day

On a hook i cast into this life

It tried to escape

With all of its might

Diving into the deep darkness

They have been so elusive of late

But in the end

We reeled it in

You and i

Watching it break the surface

Shining in the morning light

And I’m sure it would have escaped

If not for the effort

You put in with the net;

I hope we catch another one

Tomorrow.

The spruce trees

They look like they’re on a starting line

Waiting for the CRACK of a pistol

To race off across the Canadian shield;

It is the wild wind, we know

But to imagine them

Tense with anticipation

Ready to spring forward

And shoot toward the horizon

A flurry of needles and bark –

This is better i think