Today is 11 September 2016; fifteen years ago on this day mayhem rained down on New York City - regardless of its origin or its cowardly origin - nothing will ever change this fact, chew on that for a while . . .
It sickens me to think what might have happened had the mayhem stopped right then. There are some reading just now shouting “fuck yeah’ and slamming their fists against the sky; i know, because i was one howling with blood lust - i must have spent 1 full month absorbed by the aftermath of this tragedy shooting a pop-up Bin Laden dead - a month i will never get back. This loss of mine is a paltry sum compared to the 2,500,000 human beings murdered in retribution for the 2,996 lives lost that sad day - for the math challenged that is a nearly 1,000 fold increase in carnage. Without knowing a living soul who has suffered such agony as leaping from a burning building to their death, i would venture a guess few from that horrid day would wish the same for any other human being - much less a 1,000 others - for any reason, ever. At the same time i indulged my bloodthirsty vengeance repeatedly destroying the CIA dupe - Bin Laden - our planet was nearly universal in its condemnation of the carnage, most especially our muslim brothers and sisters whose sphincters were likely clutching from a visceral awareness of what would happen next - what would and did. Not one human life lost in New York City has been resurrected, and the human suffering has only increased exponentially. Why is this? To what end are we gorging ourselves on the delusion that more murder will end murder? Who has benefited from the derailment from all of humanity’s better service? Do you think one family affected by 9/11 wouldn’t happily trade every one of those 2,500,000 human beings slaughtered since that day for just 10 minutes more with a lost loved one? That is a question. . . I know i’d happily return any of those lives taken for the month out of my life wasted by killing my Osama Bin laden avatar, over and over . . there is no answer, but if you listen to your heart, you know what you would do.
What is this curtain that has fallen over the hearts of our kind? Some will say, what curtain - “as long as man has existed, so has war”. This isn’t exactly true; for 100s of thousands of years we morbidly fragile creatures clustered together developing cooperative practices which allowed us to prevail over much more powerful antagonists - wild boars, kangaroos, drought etc. Even after a skirmish with other humanoids, there was no percentage in pursuing, much less, decimating any marauding band. “Get the fuck out of my face” seemed to suffice for much longer in human history than “death to the infidels” has, or ever will. We don’t have that much history left us by, it would seem, those same shadowy characters profiting from our continued self-slaughter. Who are these mooks making book on our deaths? I’d have never made a good soldier taking orders from somebody hiding in a bunker, but that’s just me. It is in large part why i question this zeal that we consider anyone an enemy, let alone, everyone. When i am asked to hate on another person, especially someone i know not, i listen very carefully. After too long, whatever camaraderie used to seize my allegiance becomes overshadowed by the petitioner’s personal agenda. Sometimes i have to listen for a long time - hatred is pernicious like that, tarry, gooey and slow to boil. But once it gets on you, it is a hard thing to scrape off - just like the commander with medals of valor and glint in his eye. Eventually the tarnish fades and the glint becomes flinty, usually around the time i ask my first question. Somehow there’s a relationship between obedience and compliance that muddies the waters between friend and foe. Alexander the Great was a leader of men; while it is true he killed with barely restrained ardor, friend and foe alike. It was he, Alexander who first established the convention of shaving - this because he saw his men being pulled by their beards into the sword point. But Alexander was different than those who’ve amassed the entirety of our world’s wealth hiding behind puppets on a string representing the will of we the people - an important distinction, for today’s Alexanders could give a shit whose sword point you get pulled into - theirs or by your own hand.
There is much hay made on how proficient we’ve become at death; how we are able to protect ourselves in the pitch of battle, or according to General George Patton - “The object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his.” - the same general who slapped two PTSD patients in WWII Sicily, calling them “cowards.” The Wikipedia reading gets more interesting when psychiatry - hand maiden to the war machine, same breed as the consultants in Guantanamo giving torture expertise - began to understand if men were not removed at the early stages of PTSD, they were lost to the “theater of war” for longer periods, or entirely. It’s not so much that the “chicken hawks” in charge give a shit about warriors, but more a staffing question. It takes more time to train a soldier than give that soldier relief from the rigors of war - a relief i’d be willing to bet large sums of money is parsed down to the nano second, not unlike the $24 aspirin you might find in any emergency room throughout the U.S. You begin to see how difficult it would be for me in a military circumstance; it would be difficult to take orders from someone who cannot see exactly who the enemy is. Bruce Lee says to become one with the enemy, but that is from a deeply Taoist tradition which abhors war; Bruce Lee also said, ”It is compassion rather than the principle of justice which can guard us against being unjust to our fellow men.” Those marketing the drones are neither compassionate nor just - just greedy. The act of killing is oozing from the hatred of our leaders demanding what Richard Nixon proudly proclaimed, “Peace with Honor.” There is no honor found in war, or in killing. This is why Lao Tzu advocated approaching victory the way one might attend a funeral. If we haven’t become numb to death we will soon have occasion, for the amoral amongst us have declared war on life - they are winning.
Or more accurately, we are losing. Anyone who has an infant, or child in their care knows exactly how much more dangerous our world has become since those same parents were young. I may not be soldier material, but i shall not be vanquished - not by greed, hatred or delusion - not willingly. My enemy is anything that pales the beauty of a happy woman, or the luster of boulders in a mountain stream. Children’s laughter is the most precious sound on our planet, yet we are allowing that blessing to be cultivated by the same screen tearing them from us and we from one another. Just as the gore of death is filtered through a remote screen, so too have we become unplugged from the gut feel necessary to fully understand death and what it means to kill another. Ted Nugent, aside - the abnormal psychology of someone hiding his penis behind an arsenal is not my idea of killing, i’m far more inclined to learn the killing language of the indigenous people wherein permission and gratitude are the central alter from which life taken, as opposed to the blood lust of one raised in a Walmart - yes the same of Walton fame and “fortune.” That i’m not soldier material does not mean i’m not full with warrior blood - any human alive possesses this quality of character just by arriving this far down the human chain. It is a modern conceit to obscure the very real difficulty of life behind a cavalcade of convenience; which as it happens only really aids a handful of people while the balance of humanity is left footing the bill. It is that sort of stupidity against which i apply my cunning and fading strength as a warrior scholar. I do not oppose war, i oppose death, destruction and dishonesty. For these reasons, i ally myself with any who oppose cruelty, conniving and coercion. I have comrades; we are not alone and with patience, decency of spirit will prevail, because these qualities of the human spirit have fought the hardest to get this far in the gene pool. The myth of might is a charade of appearance - like the brashness of those most afraid. This is clearly seen in the faceless exploits of those who have poisoned our world and stolen our time without the backbone to take credit.
The first objective of war is to survive, but contrary to General Patton’s tactical error - another’s death is a weak objective. In the killing of one, you are only sewing the seeds of your own destruction, or that of your family. That is fact; nor is it possible to winnow the opposition into manageable proportions. Once you have committed your resources to destruction, you have absented efforts from the more powerful outcomes gained by learning, training and personal application - more facts. Any army based on death and destruction will never be a match for one born of concern for the greater good and welfare of all. The experts, those hired and told what to say, knowingly or unknowingly, by our corporate overlords are feasting on your quiescence. The whores of media enjoy a rich existence of prestige, and celebrity because you have allowed them this stature - they serve at your pleasure. The instant humanity turns a deaf ear to the fiction that we are at war with anything but our own ignorance - war will end. I’ve hated, deliberately and with a burning fervor to my own great detriment - as with my lost month assassinating into oblivion the digital avatar of Osama Bin Laden; i will never recapture that time. I’d like to say i am wiser for it, but that would be a lie just like believing these words come from a place of peace. I am not at peace - i war with every fiber of my being that which wants to surrender and relinquish any second of this life not devoted to helping my family, my friends even my enemies to survive the next 1,000 years. Enlightened self-interest is our friend - to believe the death of another by my hand or by my silence cannot be enlightened, for it runs counter to our instinct to survive. Not one of you reading this doubts the adage of “do unto others, as you’d have done to you,” those that scoff by saying “do unto others, before they do unto you,” are either afraid or sociopathic. We were not born afraid, we were born roaring, and those who care not for others have already lost the war for meaning - their heart voided with possessions and a trail of havoc neither of which will ever be enough. While the warrior scholars legion to which i aspire will have won the war when and if one person reading this finds something of use, for “to the victor goes the spoils.”
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peace - the sonnet
“Tuesday Afternoon” use to give me peace
Until i learned that it was just in song;
Castles don't come without a long term lease.
'Forever' makes me feel how time is long.
I’d just as soon bring along a good friend-
A peaceful one - one you’d spend a day with.
I’ve comrades - all warriors i’d defend.
Blood was never forced by peace to spilleth.
For all my brothers by this news chagrined
Blame me not, it is nothing personal.
When i go elsewhere, after how i’ve sinned,
Nor use vanquished souls as collateral?
What if our planet is part of heaven
and all who've been 'offed, were angel brethren?
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