Zippin’ on chamomile tea.. Contemplating life.

My shift starts within the hour and stretches itself through the whole dark night. I’ll go to sleep when the stars decides to vanish in favour of the next day. I’ve always liked the feeling of working on the night. Well, as long as you keep the all the senses active, it can really be a thrill. It always brings me back to night dives in my early diving career. Or scenes under the green nightsky, where the stars doubles in numbers, in the far beginning of my green service. Everyone of them is, in the end, romanticized and partially made up to glorify and activate some illuminate feeling of awesomeness in my life. Even though they’re all grounded and created through empiricism, they tend to maximize and gloat themselves in my mind – just to ensure myself i’m still on the way to some sort of self-made utopia.

I feel twitched. Or twisted maybe. Or maybe it’s just the stress that doing it.. In any case, it’s quite oblivious. Or tends to lean on that way. I  don’t always like it. More often though, I do not really care, and that frightens me more than anything else.

Do you trust yourself?

I really hope you do. There isn’t enough time for the contrary.

Days passes. Every single one different from the other. I’ve come to the conclusion that daily boredom is just another illusion. An unsolid projection that can easily be destroyed if one would want to. I overcome it by trying to ensure myself that all my daily actions or routines are different than the day before, and that the sum of it creates a whole new me in the end.

I took an unofficial vow to be completely honest to myself,  in my own way, on this site. Hence the following confession…

Some days ago, I experienced the feeling shame thorougly. I was out on a mission with my boys when it happend: I was lended one of my brothers knife, a battleknife of sorts, while I was cutting through small containers of illegal drugs. Not a moment later, my hand was red-wet with my own blood and I had red spots and dots all over my desert uniform since I automatically shaked my hand in a frenzy when I cut myself. The small, but deep, wound was taken good care of by myself and another fellow Combat Medic. Later I had to consult the field nurse. She gave me the order of doom – to head back into camp because of the infection risk out in the field. I was to leave my brothers in the desert sun for days…

They medivaced my ass from the field through use of the americans blackhawks. Usually a soldier from the air assault battalion, like me, would thrive in being transported with a helicopter. Not this time. In any case it all went more than well for me and my hand. But I tend to focus more on my emotional state. I wasn’t O.K. inside.. I was furious, shameful and almost heartbroken. Why? Because what if my friends encountered one of the fearful IED’s (Improvised Explosive Device) on the roads? What if they were stuck in a firefight with the mujahideen in my absence? What if they dug and found a long lost secret tomb in the ruins of a lone farmer out in the middle of nowhere?.. Whatever could happen, I didn’t want to miss the experience. I suffered in the absence of danger that my brothers exposed themselves in. Just because of my clumbsyness.

Sometimes I like to think that things are ment to be. That things happen for a reason. Be it an easy or hard lesson for ourselves or maybe just a calling for another turn in life. Initially, I was petrified by fear. Fear that I might miss something out. Fear that I would be one experience lesser than those around me. Fear of losing myself. When these feelings dominate my mind I go all Ally McBeal (the old tv-series) like on my mind – Imagining myself doing stuff that ain’t really logical or healthy. Often, I see myself taking my handgun to my mouth.. And blowing my head to oblivion over and over.. And over. It’s actually quite sick if I think back to it. But.. Don’t you do things like that when you “hate” yourself?

Altough as said, It all went well. As I foretold, I was later on nicknamed after the accident (as everybody is, if someone does something very clumbsy) and everybody on my squadron knew about it. But actually, everytime I laughed, talked and explained more about it, nothing really happend inside me. Shame left me and also my own hatred of myself. And even though my collegues experienced a IED blown of – the medics of my platoon had to take care of some wounded men and got that experience (I would have been there unless..), I really don’t care anymore. I had my own experience. Another experience. Life showed me another way that day. Thoughts I would never have encountered before has come to me just because of this “small” thing. This is my current illusion, at least.

“Suffering is a part of life“, I told myself.

And yes, I’ve overcome that fear now. Somewhere along life’s wonderous way I’ve managed to keep certain reminders of how life tends to unfolds before you. Reminders that serves as white blood cells when an infection (in this case, bad thoughts) comes to mind. It’s in no way perfected, but I helped me back on my feet and to regain my pride a lot faster this time. I have started to contemplate the Four Noble Truths and use Mind Reset on myself more recently. Even samurai meditation, as it has proven to help soldiers in all ages and eons, has it’s merits. It tends to give me a sense of contentment and peace (illusions?), in my otherwise stormfilled mind. I do feel strange while doing it sometimes. As very few of my fellow humans around me uses these techniques of old, I always think: “Is it only I that need this?” or “Am I just poking on the verge of insanity?” or maybe i’m just more of the hippie-like person to try these things..

I’m not really a samurai, even if I love the romantic history about them. I’m not really a buddhist, even if I get ecstatic in the mystery and philosophy it holds. I’m not at all a Jedi Knight, even though i’m positive my nerdy childhood fanatsies about them will always light up my mind… Whatever I am, I tend to be interested and read so much about these ways in my life so that some things, automatically, becomes a way of life. I openhearted welcome them into myself and what I truly am to this day.

Confession or not. This is the beauty of being human in my part of view.

Lance Corporal Fresh, signing out.

Back again, for the last time. I was home one second ago.  Now, I in my other home. The one I share with my brothers in arms.

Home is where you make it to be. For me, it’s the place I currently reside. Be it my rigthful birthplace, the apartment of my lovely woman, the lousy barrack in this camp or in the end, the tent with my backpack, in which I recharge my batteries to live and fight another day in this world.  Neither case is the better really. I may love the feeling of waking up beside her, in the bed of love that we share. I may also love the feeling of waking up all alone with no restrictions or regulations by my self. Lastly, I may also really love the feeling of waking up in the wilderness, just to breathe in the air of non-humans the first you do when you wake up.. Flawless.

In any case, we’re back. Back on track. At least in our minds we are. We mentally and physically prepare for the operations ahead which tend to lean onto weeks living outside the camp. We train on the shooting range, check our gears twice and wake up our sixth sense.

We fight, as always, against the demigods of weather and their likes. The one and only god of the sun, Ra, has entered  the fighting arena, bringing his whole arsenal of heat and sunshine towards me and my northern boys. But we know the drill. We got the tricks up our sleave. We will need to get accostumed once more and when we do; we will hack n’ slash n’ thrust our way into our enemies core if given the chance. This is our time. This is our job. This is my life.

Soon, I will be home again for the last time, this time. Gone from this land that symbolizes the war on terror that no western-born human ever can come to fully understand. Homecoming is drawing nearer every moment even if I was just there. It is right now that we can make things happen.

This is Lance Corporal Fresh. Signing In & Out.