Understanding the Enemy

[MikeF]

I'm no expert; I'm just trying to provoke conversation...

Direction and azimuth as I look on the map I suppose....

We've discussed this in private- people are people and you cannot control hearts and minds...

As always, I'll take it to an extreme so everyone else can realize that the sky is not falling down...Lest we presume that our straights are more dire than our parents...


If I had the answers, then we wouldn't have to run around in circles

And BTW Ken, well said...Bottom line is that we will employ the policy that our civilian's master.

v/r

Mike

[Ken White]

As always, I'll take it to an extreme so everyone else can realize that the sky is not falling down...Lest we presume that our straights are more dire than our parents...

I'm not sure that everyone else thinks that. In fact, I don't think they do. Nor am I at all sure what that has to do with Understanding the Enemy -- but then I'm old and slow...

If I had the answers, then we wouldn't have to run around in circles

I'm not running around in circles, nor do I think many are -- but then, I could've missed something. I do that a lot.

[MikeF]

And that's why I had to turn off my TV.

Eight years after 9/11, I simply started questioning...I don't have any answers...I'll lead point- just tell me where you want to go.

v/r

Mike

[Ken White]

that we all do things in our own way and that I'm pretty sure that there's no way to gain the depth of understanding you appear to be seeking, though I certainly hope you succeed. I don't think I've done that very well -- proving yet again that one mans answers may miss another question...

All I can tell you is that 68 years after 07/12/41 I have far more questions than answers. My defining moment precedes yours by a bit, my wife's younger than I am and hers was the Kennedy assassination. To both of us 9/11 was a minor incident but we understand it was defining for many -- including our daughter who missed earlier traumas. Each generation -- in each nation -- gets its own defining issues. Consider there are people who do not even today know what 9/11 even refers to. Life is complicated that way.

Having acknowledged I have questions and few answers, I obviously am not one to tell anyone where to go -- but that does remind me of the old saw; "My get up and go has got up and went but I sure can grin when I recall where my get up got up and went."

On that note, I can tell I have nothing worthwhile to contribute here. But then you probably already knew that.

[MikeF]

I just jest with you b/c it's fun and you have a lot of knowledge to share...with that said, others read what we say...

I think Emerson sums it up best

In truth, undoubtedly we have no questions to ask which are unanswerable. We must trust the perfection of the creation so far, as to believe that whatever curiosity the order of things has awakened in our minds, the order of things can satisfy. Every man’s condition is a solution in hieroglyphic to those inquiries he would put. He acts it as life, before he apprehends it as truth. In like manner, nature is already, in its forms and tendencies, describing its own design. Let us interrogate the great apparition that shines so peacefully around us. Let us inquire, to what end is nature?

[Ken White]

That's it -- You Left Coast folks can stay up a bit longer but us senile old east coast coots are off to the sack. Mo' later...

Take care.

[MikeF]

Yeah, I know... What else can I do? The Army decided to send me to school.

Coming of Age

When the storms come along, most people run inside the comfort and security of their homes. As a child, I thought like a child. I stepped outside and gazed. I never knew why, but I loved the storms. I simply allowed the cold rain to penetrate my soul. As a man, I think like a man, and I’m starting to understand. The true beauty of nature is contrasted in the messy, wicked, dynamic and hostile nature of the storm. The marvelous breath of God flows along. I cannot run away. I am drawn. I step outside.

When the winds brew over the Monterey Bay, everything unravels. The quiet tranquillest spins out of control. Sands spews across the beach, seagulls fight to maintain their form, sailboats sputter back and forth, and the waves crash along the shore. Zooming deep inside the periphery of the surface is another never-ending chaos. As the wave crests and slams back into the ocean, thousands of sea-creatures, plants, and organisms absorb the shock. It is neither right nor wrong; it is neither good nor bad. While most run to the safety of shelter, I am magnetically drawn to the sea. I have to stand in the chaos and absorb the Messiah’s wonder. It is who I am. In the midst of the turmoil, I am centered. For a moment, everything makes sense.

It is part of the cycle of life- the yen and yang that ebbs and flows.

Sometimes, the storm rages with Allah’s fury; sometimes, tsunamis and hurricanes form ravishing the land and consuming life. Yet, eventually they dissipate. The sun will rise the next morning, the damage assessed, recovery in process, and life moves on.

It is what it is.

I was never supposed to go into the Army. I was early acceptance to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and Duke considered me to wrestle for them. Although I was merely a product of the North Carolina public education system, I thought that one only went into the Army if one could not get accepted into college. It was the1990’s: the Clinton years, the boom of Microsoft, and the Peace Dividend in the wake of the Cold War. I was supposed to go to study business, join the fraternity, marry the sorority girl, earn an MBA, join the country club, and work my way through the social network of the good ole boy’s club until I was living on the eighteenth hole. This path was all too taken; it was all too calm.

Instead, I moved to the storm. I did not know it at the time, but I was being drawn to Zaganiyah. “I chose the path less taken. It made all the difference” (Frost). This misnomer is common about those that serve. We are not deprived; most of my boys had more degrees than me. We choose to serve, and we have no regrets. We are proud. For a moment, we become the man in the arena.

As with the natural condition of mankind, over time we swell with the pride of nationalism, disdain for our neighbors, or coveting of another’s property. In those times, we make war. From the secret jealousy of Cain to the collective madness of Hitler’s Germany, we murder one or millions. This decision is reached regardless of the state of modernity, industrialization, democracy, or rationalization- it is part of the cycle of life. John Locke’s social contract becomes void.

We enter a state of compartmentalized psychosis, and it can only be resolved by the sword.

It is what it is.

Zaganiyah reached this Break Point. After years of suffering diminished their humanity, the Sunnis of Zaganiyah turned on their brothers, the neighbors, and themselves. They banished some, occupied their homes, stole their belongings, and farmed their farms sending the produce across Iraq and into Jordan for profit. With others, they brought their children to the town square and cheered as the severed heads were displayed. They gave thanks to Allah for their victory. They gloated in their moment.

Once again, I stepped outside into the storm. I would not run away from the sound of a gun. My boys would follow. As with the witch doctors of old, I recognized this diagnosis was fatal. I would bleed it out. It nearly cost me my soul.