Time and times again I get disappointed. Is it in myself? Or is it towards the organisation I have vowed to follow?
Several times it happens. I momentarily lose faith in my promises to the world, again and again. Nothing is feels constant. Change is the only constant.

I look around and see the faces of my self-proclaimed brothers in arms. Am I one of these guys?
Dominated by lust, vanity and pride. They all made it to this point either with mere luck or by pure show-off. I cannot see my self identified. I am the loose link in the chain. I am on the outside looking inside. Or is it the way around?
One thing is certain: The way is not peaceful. Nor is it chaotic. It’s an irritating piece of gray goo. Feelings undeniably being pushed away by strange thoughts of blind contentment and future feelings of peace and ancient greatness. Often replaced to stand in the shadowy corner away from the spotlight, witnessing the other one taking the stage to recieve applause and tainted glory.
The old ones would see us as the wolf pack who followed the most beautiful angel God ever created, a.k.a. the bearer of light, earning our fate as hellhounds of an illusionary reality.
In the end though, we are all caged animals..

…

Enough of self despite and dellusional lies.
Time continue to show it’s inevitable control of our lives and grants me a feeling of pleasure when thinking of the not-so-far “leave”. Meanwhile we still conduct operations that stretches outside our previous jurisdiction. Giving high ranked officers the creeps, now used his big salary and to the warmth, calm and security that the chair at the computer desk has to offer.
Scouring across the Afghan fields and leaving a shoemark on their very doorstep, they shall know that we are not the ones that are hunted. We are the hunters. Our heritage and ranger brand tell it literally in our own native language.

Reconnaissance missions has been prioritized, giving us the details we need. Different village elders tells us the stories. Stories of how they come in the night, the ones without faces, and pray on their already poor resources. Stories of how they attack and slaughter other fellow human beings under a time of prayer, showing no religious respect. Other stories of how they come and take young men away from their families, never to be heard from again. They call them “not human”. Their shield is culture and religion. Their tools of trade is fear and lies.
Which reminds me of a saying that one of my comrades recited:

“Fear is the mindkiller. Fear is the little death that brings total oblitiration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past me, I will turn to see fear’s path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”
 

The words speak and burry themselves in the grounds as unshaken foundations.

 
I’m sure that’s what they would want me to say…
In any case, I don’t really give a damn anymore. Just give me what I want (?) and send me back, or even further if that is your wish, my Lord. Insha’Allah.

I love this life. I will see you soon, my love.

Dreams. They’ve become more vivid lately. Or is it lucid? I can’t really tell.
They prove to be a transformation and the sum of my daily thoughts, at least.

Water. All to often I regard it to be an infinite resource. As many others of my brethren on this planet. I disregard the thought and take for granted the amount of water I, alone, consume under one day in the timeline of our lives.
They say that the Earth’s surface has about seventy percent water compare to landmass, that ninety percent of life lives in the sea and even that the human body is made up of about seventy percent water aswell.
We, who read these words of undespicable truth, are part of one out of ten humans on the planet that should consider ourselves lucky. Or should we?

Yes, we should. In my dillusional perspective we have been granted a freedom that our ancestors could only dream of. Even if it’s only a fraction of a peace and freedom that we could ultimately achieve…

Read back. In my northern motherland a lot of people question the reason of having bottled water – reasoning that we always could pur water in a bottle from our kitchen or alike. This sort of ”reasoning” is a luxury that few humans can thrive of. Even though it really should be a right to have clean water near your home for everyone. In my current position though, i’ve declined people that right. I’ve turned them down when they kiss my feet and look at me with hungry eyes… Why I say? Because we are only suppose to be here for their protection. They tell us not to give them anything, otherwise they would flock around us and overwhelm us in greed. We are the embodiment of security, favoured sons of the Archangel Michael and defenders of the true democracy that some alcoholic american politician made up when he was high…

Security of what?! A secure f*cking way towards their and our own apocalyptic, hateful, mind-numbing shitfaced doom considering how we all don’t give a **** about anything but our own egoistic and awesome lives.

- “I am so sorry…”
 - “It’s O.K. (zero killed).”
- “Is this another test?”
 - ” Yes.”
 

 
 Who knoweth the spirit of man that goeth upward, and the spirit of the beast that goeth downward to the earth? – 2:21 Ecclesiastes

Both Christmas and New-Years eve has passed by quite painlessly. I didn’t feel anything remarkable on any of them, once again giving me a feeling of pure detachment from human tradition and culture, a feeling I truly embrace at times like this. The people of Afghanistan and their culture dates back to the year 632, when Muhammad died and became the martyr prophet, creating one of the largest known religions we know about today. Their timeline to this day according to the Hijri calendar (or Islamic calendar) is 1433, and they celebrate their new-year sometime this spring.

Our days are filled, as usual. Every day is planned and nothing really goes to spare. My commander has pointed out several times that his goal is that we aren’t suppose to be inside the camp, but outside “doing our job” as much as possible. I produce the thought, ”Sure thing”, while pushing away the lazy-human-side I got inside of me.

The weeks has also given us time to adapt. As said, i’m getting accustomed to the thought of getting up early and going to bed late. I’m getting accustomed of always having my assault rifle at hand and daily having to walk around in my personal combat gear, ready for a war that seems way too distant at times. I’m also getting quite accustomed to be welcomed by villagers throwing stones at us or giving us the finger, while the next village may cheer at our visit like saviours. I’m getting accustomed of having green vision during night patrols while a Reaper class drone with hellfire missiles is howering above us. What I never really get accustomed to, and never fail to get astonished about, is the sight of the mighty mountain chain of Hindu Kush who casts it’s shadow upon our mortal souls while streching out like a spine of the earth, in the not so far south. The mountains itself have a direct connection to the Himalayas and the name Hindu Kush litterally means ”Kills the Hindu” in English. History lessons tells the stories of slaves transported from India that died in the harsh weather that is typical for the Afghan mountains. Hence, the name.

I miss a lot though. I can give you that. Eventually though, I know I will miss all this. So I try everyday to enjoy everything as it is. That is my conquest.

Lance Corporal Fresh, out.

Forever thine, forever mine, forever ours.

 

“Such is my love, to thee I so belong,
That for thy right myself will bear all wrong. ”

- William Shakespeare

We’ve been deployed for a little more than a week now.
The Afghan winter shows us little mercy in terms of temperature and radical weather changes. We’ve been out doing “missions” for almost everyday since our departure from the north, which of course is the reason we are here.
I can’t help but to critisize my every wrong move. It’s easy to get caught up in the ever harassing, perfectionistic and testosterone community this job offers. It also offers low self esteem, maximum irritation and in some ways unhealthy perspectives of life.
In the end though, it sure offers a lot more than that. It offers brotherhood, a very high self esteem and experience in fields no other human outside understand. Everything can be summerized and is transformed into memories never given anywhere else in life.

It is my absolute will to extract peaceful emotions from the back of my mind when irritation and anger seems to be the dominating factor on the day at hand. As nerdy as I could be sometimes, I seriously try to recite the following code to put my mind at ease while taking a deep breath.

     ”There is no emotion; there is peace.”
        - The Jedi Code

A question that always ends up in my head in the end of our days is: Does our activity and presence really change anything in this ancient and seemlingly timeless place on earth?
The majority of people in Kabul and other big cities might actually give a shit. They are one part of the twenty percent that actually vote in this country, the other seventy percent really doesn’t bother or even know that they are a part of another big society. To the native and more common farmer out there, we might just be another alien doing wierd stuff, coming here with our technology and shaking their everyday life a bit.
We might still do some good. You can’t expect to change a country over just a few years with this kind of operations.

Some days ago though, we were in one of the very remote villages in the outskirts of Balkh – for the record, an ancient center of trading back in the days of Alexander the Great and Genghis Khan. Even though Marco Polo described the place as a “noble and great city”, the place has long lost its significance. Nowadays, it just resembles ruins and people living in houses made out of mud and sand.
In any case, this village actually gave me hope. Our mission was a bit fuzzy at first, we settled outside a local school to discuss with the elders about their problems and hear them out. Meanwhile, soldiers like me and my comrades held a 360 degree security around the school. The children flocked around us in times and at one time they might have noticed the medical cross on my back, signaling to me that I was a “doctor” of some sorts. I was quietly honoured by their misinterpretation, and signaled to my buddy to hold my sector while I focused on the childrens pleas.
They talked with a tounge that I didn’t understand. But their gestures gave me a hint of what was going on. They wanted help, of course. They pushed forward one of the smaller boys (maybe five or six years old) and he showed me his hands – they were fully covered with small bruises and wounds. I carefully examined him, wondering if I really could help this little soul. It could be a burn or it could be the notorious Leichmaniasis desise given by sand flies.
My squad leader giving me a green signal on my request of helping him, I put on my gloves on and started cleaning and using all the tools I knew I had to make it barable. Under the care, he himself and his friends eyes lit up, putting on a smile aimed at me. It was almost like I was actually helping this little fellow, at least giving him a brighter day to look back to. The feeling was excagirating.
It might just had been me, but when I helped him, all went into focus – there was only me and him. My surroundings were blurred out and I didn’t notice the people around me at first. I really blame myself for that AND acknowledge the potential. Never let your guard down in this country, but the sensation and intense focus I generated was flawless. It occured in just a few minutes, then my head started to fill up with every other problem in the world once more..

I might have helped his hands. I might not. My caring actually could have worsen the wounds on his hands, given I didn’t know the cause of it. It wasn’t really a big deal any way. I just did “something” for a change.
 Altough, I want to believe that this young man chooses not to grow up to become an “insurgent” or “taliban” at first hand that want to pick up a gun and shoot at us at first sight. He might even tell his friends and family not to go that way either.
Either way, I’m letting myself become satisfied with my surroundings for the time being.

I really need to work on my mood and ignore the intense pain when the afghan cold actually hits the very bones of my hands and toes.

May the force be with us.
Lance Corporal Fresh, out.

“jag älskar alexander”

And I love her. With all my heart and mind. My body and soul. My bones and the very cells that continue to divide inside me. They all embody the love that I extract from her. My seraphim of passion”, she twist my insides with joy and lust. My succubus of love, her magic works directly into my very soul.

I’ll gladly give her the key to my kingdom inside. So that she might release my pandoras box within my mind, over and over..

“He who stands with me shall be my brother.” – Adeptus Astartes

As quoted, all those in favour of my actions and present being – are my brothers and sisters to the end. I would sacrifice the world for them. I don’t always show it nor tell it, but I hope they feel it when we grow into eachother with the hugs of eternal gratitude. Who am I to achieve this lucky charm that grants me these friends in need, this girl of my dreams and this ultimate family of mine?

A toast! For my brother and his everlasting wisdom and patience with his younger counterpart. Without him, I wouldn’t exist. Another toast for my Mother and Father! For their neverending love and being the parents that I, myself, would like to grow up to become. Let’s toast one more time! For all my friends that bare with me and my ideas of space exploration and world domination. A last toast! For me, myselves and I.

We are all, One. What I do for myself, have a direct effect on You. What you do to me and to yourself. Creates everything.

I’m off to strangeland. To desert and snow combined. A land with forgotten treasure and hostile environments. A land with beauty and mystisicm. I will trespass it’s borders once more, for a fraction of a time in space seemingly endlessness. It will feel like forever, i’m sure of it. I will miss everything, and more, of that mentioned above. Tears will fill my insides as I fly away from this northern haven of security. Nevertheless, our journey has just begun – thus our sorrow will be answered with happiness, i’m sure of it. Precognition isn’t our cup of tea. So let us finish this cup with smiles, gratitude and love.

Paradox, Humour and Change. They will always dominate life, as we know it. As You will always dominate my life.

I love you all,

Yours sincerely, Lance Corpral Fresh

I thought of you this morning

What about it?

I find myself in the beginning of a journey. A journey that will determine quite a lot and set a stamp in my book of life. In a few weeks, i’ll be going with my fellow comrades to Afghanistan. I’ve visited this historical and war-torned country once before, but just brief. Altough brief enough to give me a before-hand feeling of what is to come these following months – an exclusive cocktail of life’s strongest emotions; excitement, boredom, happyness, sorrow and love.. Shaken, not stirred. Please.

I will miss everything at home that makes my life worth living. Especially she who holds my love with the caring hand of a Goddess. I want her to feel it, and that she will be worshipped in her absence without question. Unable to express my feelings in human words, I will have to get back to this in a later chapter.

I do feel a lot more content these days than before. Although I can’t be sure that it isn’t my imagination, but somewhere I have to believe in my own creative evolution, so to speak. I will take time to meditate on this further to cristallize and focus on this feeling a bit more. Still, even though I might feel and seem content or mindful, it all do feel like a spectacular acting. Sometimes I even act infront of myself to stand for some delusional, fortifying, self-centered dream of mine. Healthy or not, I know my boundries. Some times, I’d rather not. Ignorance is bliss.

Mentoring.

I’ve been searching for a mentor-like persona for a great deal of my life. Not that internet sort of mentoring and not those ten minutes talks with a self proclaimed expert in some field. I would gladly dedicate my life to another person in the sense that he/she would teach me the very essence of living. And yes of course, the world is my neverending teacher. But sometimes I cannot interpret what the world need of me, and it’s in those times, I would need someone to translate and give me that poke on the nose and tell me that i’m not focused enough. I am tired of searching – Teachers in school, athletic trainers, officers in the military, friends of friends… The list goes on. But at the beginning of this year, I found a clear substitute for it, that I had forgotten existed. Books. They aren’t nearly as pedagogy as a human being can be, but they give me what I want – Information when I ask for it. Some books even tell me what to do to achieve different things. Isn’t it marvelous?

Seriously though, misunderstand me right, as you say in swedish. I love my newly christined fascination about books. But in the end, they are only as real as you make them. Like this text I am writing this very moment. Is it really me or you writing these words?

Love life!

So here I am and will become. No more, no less.

I, once more, stand ready on the brink of my own imagination and storytelling. Just like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down in the deep and dark abyss below. Ready to open up your arms and just let go, and fall all the way down. Until you reach your very own wonderland.

This is me trying to describe that wonderland and the insides of my head while I continue with my life and current work. These texts will be naked in both truth and lies… And in a sense, very much abstract.

Thank you for reading the first post of more to come. God bless you.