Friends,
This letter came from a young woman who has just recently returned from serving in the U.S. Air Force in Iraq. Her main task, and one she took on so thoroughly that she voluntarily extended her tour of duty to bring it to a place she felt would be viable, was to set up a Girl Scout program. As you’ll see from her letter, she almost didn’t make it back home. A week before returning to the U.S., she was hit by the blast from a bomb. Fortunately, she is very much alive.
Love is Watching Someone Die
by Erinn Woodside, Saturday, August 6, 2011, at 5:32 p.m.
“Love is watching someone die.
So who’s going to watch you die?”
— “What Sarah Said” by Death Cab for Cutie
As I read through some of the media buzz about our 31 fallen in Afghanistan this morning I felt compelled to put down some thoughts that have been swirling around in my head for the past several weeks. I thought I would share them with you…
How do we fight? I’m not asking what political, social, economic, religious, or otherwise philosophical reasons cause us to fight or wage war. That is another discussion. But how are we able to actually raise our right hand and follow through with the mission at hand? Most military members, when questioned, reply by saying “Simple. It’s for my brother or sister on the right or the left of me.” It is this depth of intimacy that has has haunted my mind lately.
Within days of getting back from Iraq I heard a short piece on NPR about a new book, “12 Breaths a Minute” a collection of essays about dying. The editor spoke of the recurring problem in the healthcare community of doctors and practitioners and family members “distancing themselves” from dying patients. The Editor suggested the common thread of all the essays was that death requires great intimacy from doctors, nurses and from loved ones that can be difficult and painful. Far from being an experience of separation, death is deeply personal and rarely is one more aware of life.
Having been very close to death just a few weeks ago, I can vouch for the Editor’s claim. As the ringing in my ears blasted and my head throbbed and the feeling of too much energy shook through my body…I realized I was alive! Not just breathing, but alive. Dark, shaky, and very real.
Deployed military members and civilians live with the impending threat of death on a daily basis. Gunfire, rockets, mortars…these are the background noise of life. You can’t worry about it or let it stress you, it is simply a fact and we chose to be there. Living with death in such a way builds a special kind of intimacy. You do what you can, so that your sisters and brothers can return home safely. And when we loose one? Well, you stand in formation proudly, stare at their dog tags dangling on an upturned rifle and helmut, and listen to Taps being played in their honor. You are deeply present with them, a fallen friend…you offer love. And then you continue the mission…
Life on deployment often makes no sense, you are part of a chaotic world and often feel like pawns in some global, political hell. However, it is also remarkably simple. Do your job well, keep yourself and your troops safe, go home with honor. I think the presence of death and living in such a “real” way is incredibly powerful.
And then you go home. We return to a world that doesn’t understand death…and consequently, may not truly understand life. Our reality has been challenged and we made it through. The loved ones we work so hard to protect have, meanwhile, been caught up in the mirage of busyness and distraction. To us, they don’t understand life and we may not fit in anymore. In order to “acclimate” to “normal life” we buy new cars and fancy TVs and take expensive vacations. We also drift into busyness and distraction, keeping those memories of life tucked away for the next deployment.
I could very easily do the same thing. But then I hear about 31 fallen brothers in Afghanistan, a suicide in theater, more rockets landing on my old camp and I’m thrown back into the mindfulness of death. I remember my loved ones still serving over there. I remember my workout buddy who died and his platoon-mate who shortly after took his own life. I remember the rocket that nearly took my life and rattled my head.
So I continue to ponder life and death. In Zen Buddhism, non-duality of life and death is taught. They are one and the same. In Christianity, Christ died for us so that we might live, and live abundantly. For the first time in my life, I am beginning to really understand what this means.
Life without awareness is a type of death. Unless you are deeply present to all that IS…you cannot touch Life. Facing death forces you into awareness… and consequently into life. To be fully present in life or death requires deep intimacy and that can only be found in Love and Grace.
Death can be an act of creation; it can bring us back to life.
I hope through the course of my life I experience a multitude of deaths and re-births. Through Grace and Love it seems to me that this cycle of life and death opens us to true peace and presence.
So how do we fight to stay aware and be really present to life? I guess it’s the same way we fight for each other in war…with love and intimacy? Developing a deep sense of connectedness (intimacy) to all creation, such that they feel like brothers on a battlefield, must be the way to gain awareness. Inevitably, when some part of our world dies we should also respond in much the same way as a soldier…salute respectfully, listen with your whole heart to Taps, and carry on with your mission…and see that part of your world born again.
When we finally realize that fighting is not necessary to be fully aware and present in life… well, that’s what I would call real Peace!
Maybe none of what I just said makes much sense? I would dearly love to see what you think! Coming home has been an interesting ride…
In honor of:
SPC Nick Newby and SGT Nathan Beyers, KIA 7 Jull 2011 on VBC, Iraq.
SGT Beyers leaves behind a wife and baby girl… I hope and pray his life is reborn in them!
“And I want to know my fate
If I keep up this way.
And it’s hard to want to stay awake
When everyone you meet, they all seem to be asleep”
— “Bixby Canyon Bridge” by Death Cab for Cutie