Chasing Love and Revelation: A Reflection AFTERWORD

INVICTUS
by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be,
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance,
My head is bloody but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.

***

I started writing this piece as a memento to the woman who takes her place as my Dark Lady in my pantheon because the funny thing is, in the book mentioned in the opening to this reflection, the main character sees the Virgin Mary as a Dark Lady. When I first met Melissa, I couldn't think of her as anything else. I see her now as Kali Ma, the Vedic goddess of destruction, time, power, and creation. When I read Chasing Love and Revelations: A Fable About Finding the Heart's True Desire, I was actually shocked at how much it rang true, but I think that is also a point of fables.

For as long as I can remember I've had some reoccurring dreams that play out in front of my awareness while I'm fully conscious of it.  Growing up in the Christian religion, I knew the importance of dreams, but when I had talked with an older gentleman about them when I was around the age of 15 he tried to convince me that, and I'll quote, "Since Christ is coming back there is no more need for dreams and prophecy because there is nothing new to tell.  Your dreams sound evil and are trying to tempt you to sin."

You can imagine how much that can fuck with a young believer's mind.  After that I fought against my dreams, though they never stopped coming.  So I stopped sleeping.  A few of my former friends could tell you how hard I pushed my non-sleeping agenda upon myself.  To the point where I was sleeping 20 minutes every four hours, and I did that for 4 years. I sustained myself on mediation and mental focus. Until February 2010 when I had pushed my body so hard that I had to go to the emergency room because I had shit and puked blood while working in the 3rd SOS. Then my dreams had to find their way back to me.

By the time that I had left the US Military I had given up all pretense of religious faith.  It was vapid and empty, much like the spiritual reflection of our physical society today.  I wasn't necessarily Atheist, or Agnostic, I simply didn't care one way or the other.  That left the dreams that had come lose their significance for me and when they came back they were terrifying and confusing.

My dreams can feel more real than the waking world at times.  And in most of my dreams there has always been a Dark Lady, somebody that I had felt was waiting for me.  That I had to find.  Where I had once dismissed them as idle and unrequited longings that I could never fulfill, the pain of separation keeping me seeking and seeking until I could seek no more,  the moment I saw Melissa I knew. But I didn't know what I knew.  The dreams that I had turned away from, the Goddess of my Nightmares had been made flesh, and the possibilities opened up to the Endless expanses of reality.  

I had spent so much time seeking that I never took the time to figure out what I would do if I ever found.  I had spent so much time believing that I would never be complete so I let the world tear what I had of me apart.  So when I had finally found her, I held on to myself, what was left of myself, as hard as I can.  In order to fight through the dullness of my mind that had been given to me through pain, I grasped my anger in both hands and held it's heat as close to the dying embers of my heart as I could.  When THEY attacked me out of their cowardice, it ignited the flame from a candle to an inferno.  

Being with me that year must have been difficult.  It certainly was difficult to be with myself.  If nothing else it certainly was confusing for me.  I had only trusted that she would be strong enough to endure it while I figured out what to do.  I don't think anyone is that strong, anymore, and her realizing that she wasn't enough hurt her pride and self image.  Enough for her to make some very poor decisions that have hurt both of us.  I'm not exactly sure what went on in her mind, but it was nowhere near the fantasy of enduring for love that I had in mine. 

So this was my farewell, if not to her then it was to the heart that had endured for her.  It was a reminder of what I had gone through in my search for the possibility of her existence, and a sharp reminder of my wounds which drove her away.  Love like this exists, somewhere in the universe, and you can see the lengths that somebody would go, that I have gone, for it. 

I have made many mistakes in my life, and none so regretful as the ones I made with her. Whether that was with giving myself to her or not running away, only the Fates can know. I will, however, not let that stop me from living my life.  And in essence, these writings that I have posted have been used to transmute my grief into the love that I had so much trouble expressing while I had dealt with my own pain.  Now that it has mostly been expressed here, I can put my heart on the alter of Love and sacrifice it completely.  

 To Kali Ma, the Life-Giver, the Preserver and Destroyer. you are the fount of my Love and the tearer of my soul.  In you, my ego has been slain, my consciousness released from my head and into my heart.  In this heart, I give back to you, a sacrifice.  Take it. Destroy it. Scatter it to the four winds so that it's essence my join the world, and maybe find it's way back to me again.  Thank you for the pain, for I would not have realized joy.  Thank you for the grief for I would never have realized the depth of my love.  And thank you for my anger so I could empower my will to hold on when I had felt that I had nothing left.

With the Death of my Heart, we go and visit the gods of my pantheon.

Chasing Love and Revelations: A Reflection Part VII (FINAL)

Sweet is true love though given in vain, in vain;
And sweet is death who puts an end to pain:
I know not which is sweeter, no, not I.

Love, art thou sweet? then bitter death must be:
Love, thou art bitter; sweet is death to me.
O Love, if death be sweeter, let me die.

I fain would follow love, if that could be;
I needs must follow death, who calls for me;
Call and I follow, I follow! let me die.

Idylls of the King 

Line 1000

By Alfred, Lord Tennyson

***

The two months follow my excursion into the belly of the Beast was one of celebrated triumph.  Everywhere I went I was alive.  I had redeemed my own soul and the shackles of fear that plagued my mind were gone, the key was in simply trusting myself.  I was free, but my heart was still caged. The heart of the boy that had been wounded had never healed, and I had doubted that I could find one that could heal it.

Everywhere that I had went, people asked if I was single, giving me this advice and that.  I traveled around Norway and had given the best lectures that I had ever given, a testimony to finding the Greater Love within.  But no matter who crossed my path, I couldn't give the tender love of my wounded heart.

In the process of my travels the boots that I had kept for the five years since I had been issued them finally fell apart.  In a self made ceremony, on the shores of the fjord, with a man who was of the land itself and the director of the film Drone, calling upon the blessing of the gods and elements, nature and the setting sun, we purified them in fire and scattered the ashes into the wind.  My feet were free to walk any path now.  I was free and I had no idea what to do with myself.

See, I hate drones.  When I left the program I had wanted nothing to do with them ever again.  When I had gotten injured and faced the consequences of that death, I knew I had to face what I had ran away from.  I knew I had to give voice to the truth that was hidden in the lies of my country's leadership.  I had given myself fully to that, sacrificing dreams and hopes and wants and desires.  I had turned away from women who had claimed to love me and then betray my trust.  Whenever I had seen the seed of fear planted in their bosom I would leave before it could take root and sprout.

I couldn't give up my search for she who could heal my heart, no matter what protests I said aloud.  I knew she didn't exist, but I had to search anyways, otherwise I had nothing that I wanted to live for.  I had overcome all things.  My broken self had been put back together.  My confidence shone like a beacon in the darkness.  

Early November 2015, I had given a talk with members of the Red Cross in Oslo, Norway after a screening of Drone. The young woman who had hosted the event was a lawyer and had done some research into drones. Not only that, but she has the look that can turn a man's head backwards if he isn't careful.  Since I had nowhere to stay while I was there, she and her boyfriend invited me to sleep in their extra bedroom.  In my loneliest of lonelies, I had let the fantasy play out of me stealing her away from her man.  A foolish thought that I had laughed away because it was against my personality and I had come to respect both of them as intellectuals and people. And Aristotle does say, it is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.

A few nights later I had a public "debate" at the Nobel Peace center with a Norwegian Air Force Officer and a Norwegian Politician, I had decided to finalize a plan that I had in the works from the beginning.  I had decided that I would kill myself.  I couldn't see a future in what I was doing and living without love, well, that wasn't something that I wanted to entertain.  While I had been free of my duty, I was far from healthy.  Like a tortured prisoner that had been found innocent and released, I would carry the scars and wounds with me for the rest of my life. 

When I had returned to the apartment the couple that I was staying had been entertaining a few people, and only another couple remained.  When I was introduced to both of them, the woman in a black dress with spiderweb stockings, lipstick the color of blood and eyes the color earthy moss, caused my heart to leap into my throat.  It was like a bell had been rung in my mind, but I quickly put that out of my thoughts.  She was with the other man who was there, and way above my class anyways.  When she had said that she had just gotten out of a Tango class, I did a little jig to try and make her laugh and she looked at me like I was mad.

She left shortly afterwards by herself, and I inquired to the gentleman that stayed behind why he didn't go with her and he dismissed even the possibility.  They were not together and he wasn't interested in her.  After everyone went to bed and I updated my suicide letter, She was the last thing I thought of before I sank into oblivion.  The Dark Lady of my dreams finally had a face and figure.

The next evening I went out with the husband of the director of Drone and his best friend.  The ENTIRE evening they grilled me on finding a woman.  And the entire evening I fought against it.  I could have my fantasies, but never my realities.  Even the best friend's girlfriend started giving me a difficult time about it.  They were relentless.  I was pretty heavily drunk late into the evening, having tried to start conversations with random individuals and being brushed off by a few Norwegian women.  I never told them who I was or what I had done.  I wonder if idle conversation simply isn't my strongest point, or maybe my frustration was leaking through my barriers.  We're sitting outside of the Kulturhusset when Lowan tells me to go inside and just talk to somebody.  Find someone for the evening and get that frustration out of my system.  I needed to use the restroom anyways, so I head inside with a defeated grumble.  They just couldn't understand.  It's not simply an evening of lust that I wanted. I could get that anywhere.  I had a few women back home who were waiting to jump my bones, even my exes were nagging on me.  But that wasn't what I sought.

I head into the bathroom and I stood staring at myself in the mirror.  I tried to talk myself up, tried to give in.  But I couldn't do it.  And as I left I resolutely threw the key to my heart as far away from me in my mind as I could. As I'm heading towards the door, I pull my cap low over my eyes when somebody steps in front of me and stops.  I'm about to excuse myself when I look up into her smiling face. My heart beats against my ribcage, like a mad prisoner trying to break free.  Before I could say anything my voice catches in my throat.  She asks what I was doing and think I just shrugged my shoulders.  I felt frozen in place.  She then invites me to come sit with her and her Bosnian friends.  I looked towards the door and then back at her, and I gave into my heart's desire.  It was only for an evening after all.  And I could use a good conversation, I thought to myself.

And I did.  I forgot about all my problems, all my hopes, nothing really mattered but that moment with her.  We didn't talk politics or world issues, which had worn upon my soul.  We talked about comic books and video games, television shows and books, tattoos and psychology and spirituality, and the turnings of the universe.  My heart reached for her through the bars of it's cage.  It cried her name and worshiped her spirit.  She told me about her upbringing, the war and conflict, and her overcoming of those difficult obstacles at a young age.  We talked and talked.  She was not only a beautiful woman, but she had a beautiful soul and a sharp mind.  Everything that I could have ever wanted in a single package.  

But I knew that with all good things, they have to come to an end. And I would have rather kept that love alive in fantasy and died dreaming of what could be, than to bring her my wounds.  Because I know people, and I know women.  They might say that they want to fix a man, but they really don't.  They want a man who is fully realized and complete.  My healing process was far from complete, even if I had come into realization of myself.  So I thanked her for a lovely evening, and sorrowfully made my way back to Lowan's place, happy with a heavy heart.  And I dreamt of her again.

The next day I staggered back to the apartment room I was staying at.  I wrote down my dream in a poem that I had of the Dark Lady the night before.  We danced in my dreams, the dance of life and death.  I felt like I was flying with a lead weight.  The couple I was staying with were going to a party that evening and invited me along.  I politely declined, being tired and lost in my dreams.  I did mention that I had ran into Melissa the night before, and since I didn't have a phone number to let her know that was the most enjoyable evening I could ever have had and to thank her for it.  The male looked at me and told me she would be at the party.  The woman immediately jumped on that and told me to tell her myself.  I'm pretty sure there was no hesitation as I jumped into the shower and got ready.  

It was late before she got there.  The gentleman from the first evening that I met my Dark Lady talked my ear off about politics.  If there is anything that can tire me out more, it's news and politics.  When she arrived, I forgot about my tiredness.  She was lovely in her black security tee shirt and pants. We talked about music and took over DJing.  I didn't care if that was the music that the rest of the company didn't want to listen to.  I just wanted to see her and please her.

When we left, I was prepared to say goodbye, maybe for the last time.  I was headed out to do a TEDx Talk in Trondheim, where she is from, and then head back to the United States for the world Premiere of Drone. When we got to the bus stop she asked if I would like to come over to smoke a joint and see her comic book collection.  I looked at her, and saw her fully.  She had picked up the key that I had thrown so far away and handed back to me.  She didn't force it.  When she held out her hand to me, I took it in full awareness.  I didn't fall in love with her, I never wanted to fall again.  I walked into it with her. I let my heart out of it's cage.  I let myself be vulnerable with her. I didn't need her, I wanted her.  And I thought maybe, just maybe, I could heal in her embrace.

A few weeks later, after I had successfully returned from my excursion in the US into her arms, and I had thought myself out of harms way... THEY attacked. 

Chasing Love and Revelation: A Reflection Part VI

“But I don’t want to go among mad people," Alice remarked.
"Oh, you can’t help that," said the Cat: "we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad."
"How do you know I’m mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn’t have come here.”
― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland


This trip to Germany was my most interesting and chaotic yet. Since this is about the search for Love, most of the details will be saved for a larger piece I'm writing. On one of my short flights, I sat next to a very pretty woman from the American South. First time that I didn't sit next to somebody with whom I wish could be somebody else. I have never really been able to flirt or have a simple casual conversation with anyone before. My intimacy trauma simply held me back. Since I didn't believe I would ever see her again, I decided to go for it.

It's amazing what you can do when you believe in the finality of your Fate. I pulled out my kindle, she pulled out her book. I asked her what she was reading about and for the next few hours all we did was talk. It was good. I felt comfortable and so did she. I'm pretty sure that if she had told me to run away with her at that moment, I would have. I wasn't sure if I could face my duty. I was terrified. So when we said goodbye, I left with her my hopes for the future, praying that she is blessed with the fulfillment that I sought. What I took from her is that she is the people that I fight for. She had no idea who I was, but we were both enriched from our meeting. I let my hope for finding love go into the wind. This life was meant for something else.

In Germany, starting 7 October, 2015, I was chaos incarnate. I was focused on the duty that I had to perform and by the time we were done, I was awarded with a standing ovation by the entire assembly. When I had arrived at the Bundestag, I was delayed for a few hours. Since the Germans are notoriously precise on everything, I knew something was up. I had prepared for the eventuality of death, nothing else could phase me. However, it wasn't anything so dire as that. Jeremy Scahill of the Intercept had released the Drone Papers: The single most comprehensive release on all things Drone. All without my knowledge, he released them as soon as I stepped foot inside the political establishment. If I had been used for anything in my life, I'm pretty proud of that one. And whomever the leaker was, you probably saved my life.

The investigation committee asked me so many really good questions that I imagined that they had more knowledge of the system than I did. Until they showed it to me. It was incredible. It lifted my spirits. And I felt that I had won.

When I got out and had access to my phone, my mother had messaged me telling me that the US Air Force OSI had approached her and threatened her. For the second time I had placed my mother in danger, and while I was not afraid of losing my own life, I was terrified of hurting her. She had spent the last 3 years taking care of me when the government tossed me into the trash after my accident. I had stupidly placed her in harms way, not from any unforeseen enemy, but my own government.

When I cried to her, she told me to be strong and that she was proud of me that I was doing the right thing. For all the strength that I had, she has more. I was completely blessed to have been raised by such a woman. Otherwise, I wouldn't be the man I am today.

Again, I let it all go. I was free, and vindicated. After that release of emotion I felt brutally alive. My senses went into hyper mode. I celebrated. Mostly by finding the best Kebabs in Berlin, but then I had dinner with my Journalist friend, John K.

It was absolutely lovely. I was among friends and happy, really happy for the first time in what seems like forever. At the end of the night, there were three of us left talking. Two Johns and me. We proceeded to get good drunk on great wine and Estonian Pure Vodka. Both John's talked about their families, and love, and the richness that they felt. John K. told me that I would find a good woman someday, and I disagreed with him vehemently.

"It's not for me," I said. "Nonsense!" He'd reply, "You're a good man and you deserve a good woman. And your children will be good too!" I'm pretty sure we had that same conversation at least 10 times that evening. But I couldn't see it. I gave it up. I couldn't put somebody in danger. When I mentioned that he said she wouldn't care because she would love me. I told him love like that only exists in fairy tales. The other John, who is Irish in the purest sense, said that it didn't matter if I believed in fairies or not, that a good man with a good heart is always blessed by the Earth. Or some other poetic nonsense. I couldn't see that they were right.

I should have packed my things that night because I was supposed to ride a train down to the 2015 Whistleblower of the year award. I was passed out on my bed and had to be woken up violently, proceeded to vomit the contents of the previous evening into the sink and all over the bathroom floor, somehow missing myself, and stumbling to the taxi and train station with nary a second to spare.

Of course I slept the entire ride down to the award ceremony.

To be honest the whole thing is a blur. I met a young man who wrote a Rap song about me. Probably one of the coolest things anyone has ever done for me. It felt strange being given an award for blundering along in trying to find redemption for my soul. Almost like the Universe was telling me that I was on the right track. I even had this speech wrote out with robotic phrases and half-hearted appeals to everyone's greater consciousness.

I'm not sure how long I stared blankly at my notebook or the crowd full of expectant faces, but I caught the eye of John Goetz, the journalist who introduced me (in German), and a friend. I thought about the first time we met, in a bar, when he was just asking questions and I answered them without knowing the significance of what I was saying. Then I thought about my little brother, and my absent father, the struggles that I had and the lack of good respectable male role-models in our modern society. And I couldn't just walk away like it meant nothing. If nothing else, I've learned a lot, and as a learned person it is my duty to share it.

So I closed my notebook and I spoke directly from my heart. I poured my pain and my anger into my speech. I let them know that I would do my best to never let another young man have to walk the path that I did alone and afraid. Because I was no longer afraid. I don't remember the exact words or the rest of the ceremony but I ended up getting drinks with one of the committee members afterwards and some of the interns. Here is the email she sent me afterwards. I've been trying to think of more than a simple "thank you" response ever since.

***

Dear Brandon

Reiner kindly gave me your email. I hope you don't mind and I hope you remember (Angelika, a jury member - the one who went for a late night drink with you and our wonderful interns). I wanted to send you some personal words, in the aftermath of the whistleblower prize ceremony. I think this was a very moving event - at least to me it was - and you have convinced everybody that the award was given to the right person. Perhaps what I also mean is that you have convinced me that we gave the prize to the right person. For the sake of honesty, I confess that I had not agreed to award the prize to you and had abstained in the process of voting. I am new to the jury and was confronted with such a tricky decision for the first time in that capacity but the process requires a consensus decision by the jury. It could move forward because I did not oppose, only abstained. I could not bring myself to award this prize to somebody who has been involved in killing people and we had lengthy discussions about this within the jury. But having met you in person and having heard your story from yourself I grew convinced - to my relief - that my concerns were obsolete.

You are a very impressive, deep and strong person. While I do think everybody is responsible for his/her actions and I learned through meeting and talking with you that you undoubtedly have grown to understand that and are accepting that responsibility, you also were brought and lured into this situation by people and a system that is designed to prey on people's vulnerability, ignorance and immaturity. A cruel, dehumanizing system. You have miraculously grown to understand this while still being stuck in a very vulnerable, locked-in situation and without external influence (as I understood your story) - this is hugely impressive. And one can sense and only begin to imagine how much pain this has caused and has tortured your young soul. For that I am very sorry, no young person should have to go through such a torture but yet, here we are, currently flooded in Germany and Europe with so many, many of your soul mates, young women and men and children who went through even worse suffering, fleeing a nightmare war and total destruction induced - and here the circle closes - by actions of other tortured souls like you. So, while this is a maddening situation that can easily blow one's mind, you seem to grow with these challenges and mature with them. That is very inspiring and it is reassuring that there could have been nobody more worthy of receiving the prize and the recognition coming with it. I had not seen that when I had to make a decision whether you should receive the prize but I was mistaken. I am deeply impressed with the depth of your personality and intellectual capacity to understand and deal with this immensely complex situation. Perhaps you have only begun to discover and realize your capabilities - make good use of them, they are very precious. I wish you of course all the best for your life - live a good life, a meaningful life and do enjoy life!

And I meant what I said earlier to you. If the US gov decides (or other forces) to go after you, you have a large support group here who would do everything in their power to help you - make use of that when the time comes. And thank you for what you did for us as citizens of Germany - although I live in Switzerland, Germany is my country of birth and homeland - even though I think you had no clue of what politically relevant knowledge you held - that is a collateral benefit, if you wish. For Germany your revelations are critical, enabling us to hold our government accountable which in my view is the first line of duty of a citizen.

Have a good life and feel free to come back any time as a friend.

Yours sincerely, peace & love,
Angelika

Chasing Love and Revelation: A Reflection Part V

“...There is nothing outside of yourself that can ever enable you to get better, stronger, richer, quicker, or smarter. Everything is within. Everything exists. Seek nothing outside of yourself.” 
― Miyamoto Musashi, The Book of Five Rings


Once you delve into the dark places of the mind and soul the only way to see the truth is if you bring your own light.

When I left Missoula, MT, at the end of September 2015 to drive to Seattle so I could catch a plane to Germany for the Bundestag NSA Investigation, I had thought that would be the last time I would see the place of my birth.  I left in a flurry and in a fury, having been evicted from the relative safety of my mother's apartment because her neighbors had complained about my dog being too big.  A strange thing happened as I was leaving the neighborhood is that the power went out and the darkness chased me away.

I drove all through the night only stopping to get petrol and letting my dog get some exercise to answer natures call.  Both times we stopped he was scared back into the car by something hidden in the darkness.  I didn't question him and sped away to Seattle proper to a hiding place at a friend's house.  While I waited to drop off my beast at another friend's place three days later, she left me alone to go stay with her boyfriend.  I had a lot of thinking to do and no distractions.

Before heading out to Germany, I visited a shaman that had previously guided me in journeys in understanding and healing my spirit, but this time, he helped me prepare to die.  I had already dropped off my dog and dedicated three more days to meditation and journeying. I embraced the sorrow and fear that this would be my final act of defiance.  I prayed and asked my ancestors to let me speak the truth fully from my heart.  I thanked the dead that had followed me since my accident three years previous for letting me honor them and for giving me the strength to overcome what had seemed the impossible.  Finally, I sought harmony with Gaia and the universe for giving me the opportunity to change my Fate.

As I meditated I let go of my past mistakes, one by one.  I forgave those that hurt me, because I grew wiser and stronger from it, and I prayed that those that I had hurt would one day be able to see and forgive me. I thought about Project RED HAND, my failed brainchild to try and set up a foundation for those that seek to speak the truth and help the general populace understand the nature of what we, who have bloodied our hands, have done through our eyes and hearts.  It had helped me hold on to the idea that I could make a solid change in the world.  It gave me something to pour my heartache into and delve into the pain.  It was my mantra, my meditation, my life's blood.  And I let that go hoping that since the seeds didn't sprout for me, maybe they would sprout for somebody else.  Blood doesn't make a good fertilizer.

I dwelled on my dreams.  In my dream journeys I had met beings who claimed to be gods, demons, the Three Fates.  I had seen the creation of universes, the dying of stars.  I had traveled to the edge of the void and peered into the abyss and knew it looked back at me.  I had met Death herself,  she embraced me as a lover would and comforted my despair. With my Shaman I had stood in front of the entire Assembly of my Ancestors and relived my life, seen the pain that I had experienced and that I had given to others. I had felt their judgement, but never their scorn.  They loved me, reminded me of that, and told me that the only person that needed to forgive me was myself.  That I had judged myself harsher than anyone ever could, because I knew myself.  By the time those three days were over, I was ready.  I had sharpened my mind as a blade, with the knowledge that I had gathered. I was formidably armed, making my final stand.  I was ready.

Chasing Love and Revelation: A Reflection Part IV

"There is only one thing that I dread: not to be worthy of my sufferings."
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky

I recently came across the above quote while reading Viktor E. Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning.  At the VA Hospital where I am currently, the head of the psychology department gave me her copy and asked me to read it.  I got halfway through it before I gave it back to her and bought it on my kindle so I could keep the highlights for reference.

I'm amazed that this book hasn't come across my path before this.  It's once again, if I had read this a year ago, two years ago, I'm sure my current situation wouldn't be in as dire straits. It seems that the universe has this tendency to give me the test first and the lesson afterwards.  And maybe, just maybe, the experience is what makes the lessons stick.

Most of my adult life has either been ran by desperation, guilt, or shame.  Usually a mix of all three.  In the USAF, my heart had been subject to ridicule, my desperation to fit in led to my shame, and the guilt of what I had done pressed as a mountain of weight upon my soul.  However, through most of that I kept my faith in the Christian god and the silly mantra of "carrying my cross" got me through many things that would have otherwise been impossible.  I should have remembered that sometimes silly things are true.

In Frankl's book, he talks about his experiences as a prisoner who experienced life in the Nazi concentration camps as a psychologist.  He even mentions that many of the things he remembers is due to an strange clinical interest, and credits his survival not only to luck but his training as well.  I find that the soldier's life and a prisoner's life are strangely similar.  That if one truly gets down to it, both are trapped by ideology, have their humanity broken, and ultimately seek escape from reality in some form or another.  Though I know many atheists that come from the military or that have served, if they were to continue their own search for something greater than themselves, I'm sure they'd have a better understanding of the spiritual path than most. 

My escape from the drone program liberated me.  I was no longer subject to the whims of those that have been disconnected from their humanity.  Where those that sit behind the screen experience the life of war through a digital lens and forget the cost of living.  When I got into the Reserves, I told them that I would only participate if they got me into the SERE program.  I had met some of the Guardian Angel Weapon System's brood and I had felt that after my disappointment in the Drone program, I could rebuild my confidence in myself and my country by finally getting my hands dirty without having to place myself in a position to take another's life unless absolutely necessary.  

When I got injured shortly after I started the official indoctrination, the head of the program gave me the opportunity to come back after I had gotten better.  When I got back to my Reserves squadron, where I should have gotten medical help, they simply kicked me to the curb and told me to take care of myself, then placed me inactive instead of giving me my medical discharge.  Since then I've had to fight for my medical care.  And that has been humiliating in itself.

From the moment of my accident, time seemed to stop flowing normally.  After my dead appeared to me, I was trapped in a continuous loop of memory.  Whenever I'd closed my eyes everything would be in infrared and I could no longer tell you where I was.  I'd re-experience my events as if they were new, though I would know the outcome.  It was as if Nietzsche's Allegory of the Demon was a literal thing, though it wasn't a demon that held me prisoner of my thoughts, it was my trauma.  A more real demon in itself.

When I met Nicola Abe who wrote the Der Spiegel article concerning drones that appeared 14 December 2012, I was trapped in that loop and barely knew what I was truly experiencing.  I was in multiple places and times at once.  But when the article came out on the 17th in English, where I had envisioned that the American people would see and my compatriots would be heard, and we, as a people, would join in to stop the horrific processes that we were participating in.... all the world crashed into one bright moment of rage.  Four days Later, I would start to Awaken.

I was over at my best friend's house getting ready to play some Dungeons & Dragons.  I had spent the previous days fighting with the VA, having traveled 8 hours for them to fuck up my neuropsyche appointments, with no food or money, and having to travel back home empty handed.  When I wasn't dealing with the VA, I was fighting with anonymous people online who claimed to have known me in the service and doing my best to defend myself against their stupidity.  If I could get any angrier I would have turned large and green.

My buddy must have seen that I needed to calm down, so he made a marijuana joint and handed it to me.  I had never smoked before.  He told me to go outside and smoke the whole thing.  When I came back in, the world was a better place and I had probably the most fun I could remember in a long time.  While that night eased my transition into the waking world, I now had more to contend with than I had ever thought possible.  I was now against the people and the government that I loved, and it was because I followed the training and belief system that they gave me.

My faith, however, was dead.  God had abandoned me to this hell but even a soldier has his duty when all seemed lost.  I had my dreams taken from me, my hopes, my health.  The MRSA infection that I had gotten at the San Antonio Military Medical Center nearly killed me twice, and because I was susceptible to it, I wasn't sure when it would finally end me.  I had nothing else, so I decided to fight until the bitter end.

Six months after the Der Spiegel article, Edward Snowden made his appearance.  Which probably saved my hide by redirecting a ton of angst his way.  Though the attention that I was receiving was both good and bad (you'd be surprised at how many people have wanted to hook up with me, men and women), I ignored anything but the negative.  I was scared to get into a Julian Assange situation so I abstained from sex for over two years.  Since I had lost almost all of my friends and pretty much been excommunicated from my family, I had no other distractions.  Though I eventually fell into the trap of excessive video gaming to distract me from the pain and depression of loneliness, I was constantly wondering when my time would be up.

I wasn't hiding from anyone.  The threats I had been receiving were almost daily, mostly from fellow veterans and Christian conservatives.  I was coaching wrestling at one of the local high schools, though that ended because one of the parents went to the school faculty and claimed that I was a "traitor to the country," and because I wasn't christian I was a danger to her children.  Life just fell apart and kept falling apart.

Then I connected with a couple of veterans who claimed to be on my side and agree with me.  They were bitter and angry as well, and I could preach from my heart and not have to worry about judgement or disagreement. It was then that I had my first experience with MDMA, and I mistook the feelings that generated for love.  That experience ended in massive betrayal.

One of the veterans that I spent time with was a woman.  And while we did connect, she had been involved with another woman, and I was busy fighting my own fight.  We hung out with strippers and people that lived in the grey area of society.  I mention the strippers because they told me that for them it was a form of empowerment, they were in absolute control in a safe setting.  And I became friends with quiet a few of them, probably because I never made a move or tried anything.  They felt safe with me because of my issues with intimacy and closeness, and I learned that they are human beings like myself, struggling with life every day in their own way.

In February 2014, I had gotten the idea to do a male amateur night veteran fund raiser at the local strip joint.  Everyone thought it was a good idea, but I was the only one that actually went through with it.  Since the VA was snubbing me I needed a way to make money to pay bills.  I made $800 that night for shaking daddy's little money maker.  Then they hired me to do bachelorette parties around the Pacific Northwest.  For me, it wasn't about the sex, it was about taking control of my sexuality.  In a way it was me combating the women who took my choice of giving myself away, the ones who abused my innocence.  I never crossed the line with anyone, though I was solicited more than a few times, and once by the bride herself.  I was in control, and I denied them any gratification in taking any from me.  It cost me money a few times.  But in a weird way it was my control that mattered.  Now I can laugh at the absurdity of what I had to do before the VA finally came through.

***

I mention all of this because during this time I was traveling back and forth to Europe, I had spoken in front of the UN, and done a ton of other things, but my personal life was a mess.  An absolute mess.  The female veteran that I had fallen "in love" with under the influence of drugs destroyed me, but I still had my duty.  And even then, fighting against those artificially developed processes had been an uphill battle.  I was only able to get through it because of my ability to forgive, otherwise the madness of anger would have destroyed everything else about me.  I had been foolish to let myself be vulnerable to that degree.  My nightmares were also getting worse because I was speaking about my experiences all the time.  But again, I had believed in my duty so much, that I had deserved that pain and sorrow, I could make it through.  I had my reason why for the how.

In March 2015, I ended up with another girl, but this time was entirely selfish.  I was being stalked by some people and I had felt the need to get out of Missoula, so I went to another State and city entirely.  I met this girl on a dating site, stayed at her place for a few weeks, and ended up getting called by the FBI wondering where I was at.  They had told me that I wasn't in trouble and that I shouldn't tell anyone that they called me. So I called my lawyer as soon as I got off the phone with them.

With that event the girl realized what she had gotten into and whatever we could have had fell apart.  It didn't affect me, other than I felt guilty for using her, and so I was on my way back to Missoula shortly thereafter.  This was April of 2015.

When I got back to Missoula, I had an warrant for my arrest.  Back in December of 2014, I was walking my dog when he went up to greet a small chihuahua, and the small dog bit through his lip.  The guy kicked my dog in the head, then proceeded to scream at me and try to pick a fight with me.  He then reported me to the police for "beating my dog" got his neighbors to also give reports, and nearly got me thrown in prison for 6 months, according to the Judge.  The only thing that saved me was the security video footage.  My public defense attorney disappeared without a trace, gave me the wrong dates to show up to court, which got me the warrant.  I ended up standing up for myself  and somehow getting the prosecution to agree for a deferment (he was determined to put me behind bars because he "knew" i was guilty and the judge told me that being a Veteran with PTSD is just an excuse that weak men make), then left for Germany to testify to the German Bundestag. I was supposed to go earlier, but they had to delay it because I couldn't leave the county without handling this.

And I did it all on my own.  Thirty minutes after we leave the courthouse, I take my dog to the dog park and he gets attacked again.  I had to take him to the hospital because his front leg got tore up, and the dog/owner that did it disappeared immediately after it happened. It's almost like somebody was trying to fuck with me and delay my testimony. 

***

As we get closer and closer to the end, should we ask ourselves: To what is this ending worth?

Chasing Love and Revelations: A Reflection Part III

"The Light shines in the Darkness and the Darkness cannot overcome it."
-John 1:5


If you go into a dark room with a candle, the darkness gets pushed away.  The shadows come alive to dance.  But you cannot enter a room filled with light and bring darkness with you. Not any way that is natural.

I've talked with people all over the world about my story. It is dark, lonely, demanding, disorientating.  In those conditions I have thrived, not because I have lived in darkness, but because I had brought my own light. When the sun had set and the moon is new and the stars are lost behind the clouds, I have used my intuition and my upbringing to guide me forward.  Towards what end, I don't know, it's not the destination that matters.  Every road leads to home.

For me that Light has always been honor, integrity, and love.  I want to share these ideas with you.  I use a Biblical quote up top because it's true, no matter what the source, and my original source for my spirit was my Great Grandfather.  He taught me not just through words but through actions, and while I've fought many a monster, inside and outside, I always rely on his teachings as a platform for how I want to conduct my own life.

The Buddha also says, “Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the single candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.”  I've been in a VA inpatient treatment facility for over a month now, dealing with my grief and the resurgence of my PTSD.  I'm determined to conquer this, to show my superiority over myself and not let it control my life any longer.  Though the problems that happened between the Mother of my child and I are shared, and I believe can be overcome, I am mastering my end.  Not just because I have to, but because I want to.

I'm going to share what I've learned, but more than that, I'm going to share why I love this woman and why she holds that special place in my pantheon. We are opposites and equals. This is her story.  This is my Light.

***

I'm not sure where to begin other than she is a Bosnian woman through and through.  Dark humor and quick wit, stunning to the eyes and deadly to the heart.  There is a reason I call her My Dark Lady with reverence and a wee bit of fear.  There is a reason I love her with all my heart, mind, body, and soul.

Where I am an intuitive thinker, she is an intuitive feeler.  And while we are both highly analytical, she is more mind oriented and I am more soul oriented.  She is definitely the extrovert and I am the introvert. And where she is ordered I am chaotic.

She has this restless, creative energy inside her that wants to be brought out.  Her inner colors and shapes are like a kaleidoscope, able to subtlety enchant everyone around her.  And though on the surface she is upbeat and lighthearted, her inner darkness is deep and troubling due to past experiences and her chosen profession.

One thing I should have recognized is our intellectual styles and needs are very different.  Though we are both unconventional and like to wander off the beaten path, we both also have similar interests, we should have been using our strengths to bring harmony and balance into our lives instead of competing.  I think that because we're both highly intelligent that our stubbornness got into the way.  I also don't think we've never been in a relationship with another person who was equally as strong.  Which is a difficult thing to adjust to.  And I was also wounded.

She is a natural leader, I could see it wherever we went.  She wasn't used to taking orders from anyone. Her role in life is that of the Protector, always ready to jump into a fight to protect those she loves. Though sometimes overbearing, I know that she acted from her core whenever she saw me struggle. Where I am idealistic to the point of being naive, she grounded me from running off and wasting energy in trying to "save the world" as she would call it.  The anchor to my heart that I desperately needed.

Our upbringing also causes us to view the world differently.  Though my initiation into the terribleness of the real world only started in my adult life, she experienced it from a very young age. Her profession and dealing with the criminal and negligent aspects of Norwegian society contributed to her hard edge and judgmental eye, something that I didn't recognize about her until recently. The term that I learned is called the Tetris Effect. I believe that she had accrued some secondary trauma, and coupled with her primary trauma, jumped to conclusions of my behavior and thought processes.  She would occasionally see harm and hurt where there were none.  And I was too focused and distracted on insignificant matters to really understand.  Plus, until recently I had very little education of psychology outside of my own personal issues.

Neither of us like to conform to rules or expectations of others, which is a trait that I absolutely love about her.  However, we both have different tastes in styles and ideas that drive us forward in life.  She likes to dress elegantly, and for her I would too, but I prefer to dress simply, and moderately.  I think with all the differences that we have if we had focused on our hearts and gave one another unconditional love and respected one another for who we are and what we have overcome to be strong, we would be unstoppable.

Though my heart has been severely wounded, not in the least by her, I should have been more sensitive to her emotional needs.  Where I need my alone and quiet time to reorient myself, I should have been more vocal and communicative with my own needs as well. Sometimes I'm too lighthearted in things, and it doesn't mean I'm dismissive or disinterested, it's that I never hide my intent and I always try to keep my intentions positive.  If an issue is brought up and discussed then we come to a solution and that's it.  I took for granted that she is more affected by matters of the heart than she let on.  But here, again, I'm stupid, and because my own heart has been affected as drastically as it had been, I was too involved with trying to understand my own to recognize my mistakes.

Maybe that led to us to be competitive, unconsciously, instead of supportive.  Or maybe it came across that way to one another in our stubbornness.  Her saying things like, "I went through that when I was younger," sounded more condescending than encouraging.  A mistake all too commonly made by the human tendency towards negativity bias.  Where I should have recognized that Melissa relies on structure, discipline, and control of her own life to protect and care for those she loves, I rely on warmth, sacrifice, and forgiveness.  In that way she takes on the more typical masculine role of disciplinary parent and I would be classified as the feminine "soft" parent.  I think that my soft heartedness might have lead to her to lose respect for me.

While her love is no less powerful than my own, I continually tried to openly express it because that is what my Great Grandfather did.  The people that hurt me, I actively tried to forgive and let them know that I did forgive them.  And that my boundaries are drawn there.  If you've left my life, very rarely do I let you back in, though I profess no hard feelings towards you.  My Love, however, I'm not sure she could forgive.  Her upbringing was harsh and her family life never gave her an opportunity to express or explore that avenue.  I think that is one of the reasons that drives me is that I want her to know that I do love and forgive her.  And she is the only person that I would unconditionally let back into my life, if she would allow it. That is how great my love for her is.

However, I did start to feel like I was walking on eggshells and having anxiety.  Maybe it was hormones, maybe it was she couldn't see me for who I am.  I know she probably hasn't done some inner searching for understanding.  She had developed a disdain for it when one of her exes left unannounced to India to soul search and didn't come back for months.  I don't believe you need to go anywhere to find your soul, you just need to look inward.

 We are like Heaven and Earth.  I'm a dreamer, a bit philosophical, and full of unconventional ideas.  Melissa is practical, grounded, and goal-oriented.  She is what grounds me with her gravity and I am the one that pulls her up into the stars to see their majesty.  She offers me security, from mostly myself, and I offer her exploration of the uncharted abstract.  She gave me peace and comfort and stability when I was caught in the middle of a storm and being chased by pirates of the soul.  And I offer her the chance to overcome and love like never before.

***

Okay, that's enough analysis for today.  Maybe too much, but I do pay attention, sometimes it takes a while for me to produce the right words.  In the case of love and the heart, well, if it's true then it's never too late.

This here is my Light in the Darkness.  In my next piece, part IV, we're going as deep and dark as one can get.

Happy (early) Birthday, Duso Moja Mala.  I'm here, I love you and I'm always here.

Brandon.


"To care about someone doesn't mean you need to understand their thoughts. It means you see them as they are; as they are have the potential to be. You see and acknowledge the good part of their character and when you see the negative parts of their character, you accept it is there and know that life and experience will make those slowly fade away. You are there to help them through life, just like they you. Any experience shared is an experience remembered. Even though your hand cannot help at that point, your presence there is enough."

-Richard Cypher to Kahlan Amnel

Chasing Love and Revelations: A Reflection Part II

Everyone has problems in life.  And everyone has problems in love.  I'm not so sure those things are separate anymore.  Life should be love and love should be life.  Or more accurately, Love is the action that should drive life forward.  It should transcend thought and feeling.  Love is about being, and doing.  All too often we forget that nowadays.

Now intimacy, that is a beast that I've struggled with for 11 years. Growing up as I did in a Christian household, I had always been told to save myself until marriage.  I had no reason not to believe it with Great-grandparents who had been married almost 70 years, and Grandparents who have been married almost 60.  I even had a great example of what love was NOT: my father leaving my mother to raise me on her own and the men who came into her life afterwards.

A situation that has repeated itself in my own life, but with the mother of my son forcing me away and keeping me from my son for reasons only known to her.  I am not my father. For as long as I can remember all I've wanted was a family.  To have a wife and children and be good to them both.  I had thought that my dealings with the military and the Drone Whistleblowing had killed that dream until I met her.  Now I'm struggling with this absurd situation that makes no sense to me and the answers are hiding in the shadows avoiding the light of truth.

Since the answers are not forthcoming, and speculation will only lead to anger and hurt, I've decided to address this issue with a continuance from PART I, because if she were any other person and this was any other situation that didn't involve my child, I would have walked away and never looked back after how she treated me,  manipulated and lied to me.  If she were any other person...

In the end, however, I can do nothing but love and forgive her.  In the end, we can only be who we are. No more. No less.

In my striving to find love, true love, I've made many mistakes.  If you were to meet me two years ago, before my testifying to the German Bundestag, I could be seen carrying around a mountain of guilt.  It was crushing the life out of me.  I had loved my country, but it had betrayed my trust.  I had loved my brothers and sisters in arms, but they had shown me to be cowards.  I had loved my people, but they are blind and refuse to see.  I threw my lot into the wind to see where it would carry me.

I've mentioned before the freedom of release once you believe that you're going to die.  I knew my days were numbered.  People have been punished for less.  I've been punished for less. Through it all I never succumbed to the crushing weight.  I had finished what I had believed would be impossible from the very beginning.  I had struggled with my own demons, and ghosts, and shame,  yet I still managed to cross the finish line.

The end is a strange place to be.  I had no idea what to do with myself.  Where death had seemed inevitable, with the mother of my child it became impossible. Where intimacy had hidden behind the closed doors of my heart brandishing a knife, the fear of life's consequences faded away, if only for a little bit.

I've only had a handful of other relationships, each ending mostly because I couldn't get past the intimacy roadblock.  I know where it started.  It started when two women decided to take my choice of who to share myself with away from me.  It continued when I had told a woman in my squadron I was dating what happened and she belittled me, then accused me of rape to our superiors when I refused to shotgun marry her, then when I confronted her about it she told me she used me to get over her ex.  It was four years before I had the courage to put myself out there again, the trauma was so bad my self esteem had been destroyed.

And in that case it was a woman I had been friends with that came on to me, which lifted the burden from my shoulders.  We had a fun time.  She opened me up to start exploring that part of me that had been secluded away like a cloistered monk.  As it turns out, holiness isn't all that it's cracked out to be. In the end, I'm pretty sure that we both knew it wouldn't be forever.  I couldn't be open with her emotionally.  So we had our fun and parted ways as friends and I started to explore myself again.  Here is where my true difficulties began.

I never really allowed myself to be open with the women that I dated, always keeping my heart superficially open. In a way that attracted them, and in a worse way it caused me to drive them away.  In the year between me getting out of Active Duty Service while I awaited my fateful SERE moment, I connected with a strange and lovely crowd, many of them part of the LGBTQ community.  Some of the women were crazy and manipulative, I was told that I was eye candy for gay men, and overall they got me comfortable talking and joking about unmentionable things that their military counterparts could only elegantly grunt and beat their dicks at.

But still, the issue of intimacy was a vital thing held close to my heart.  I knew I was only attracted to women, so the gay men who flirted with me unabashedly only served to boost my ego.  The women who took interest in me quickly fell away when I would hammer their intellect trying to find something more than just a pretty face.  I learned quickly that the deeper questions in life are not ones that most pursue in their leisurely time.  For me, because of my experiences, it was imperative.

Not to say that there is anything wrong with any other pursuit, it is just my needs were more than physical.  Still are.  And it's difficult to be attracted to somebody, even beautiful women, when they don't have much cultivated behind their pretty eyes.  For me, that cultivation is essential.  I only wanted somebody who pursues life with equal gusto.  Who wants to find more than what is shown on the surface.

Before my SERE accident, I met somebody who pretended to be just that.  She was brilliant, if not beautiful. And that was a downfall for me.  For a month all I wanted to do was talk with her, dig into her brain.  Two weeks before I left for SERE, she told me that if we were to pursue a relationship together, we were just friends then, then I had to tell her what I was holding back.  I had known she was perceptive, and the shock on my face had to have been obvious.  She told me that she could handle the darkness that I was hiding. She was the first person I ever told about my military experiences.

Once I started I couldn't stop.  Once the first words started rolling off my tongue I saw her shrink away as she saw the monster that I had hidden away.  I told her everything and by the end of it she had moved herself into the kitchen out of my sight while I continued to sit on the couch unable to stop the flow of words spewing forth from my mouth.  I hadn't realized that I had been crying the whole time.  I stared at my hands in silence once I had finished.  She didn't say anything for what seemed like an eternity.  Then she told me to leave.  And that was the last time I could pretend that the world was all right.

Two months later I have my accident. In my desperation to hold on to myself, to not give into the physical pain that held nothing compared to the internal agony that I had felt, I nearly killed myself.  In many ways I would have preferred that ending.  It would have been cleaner at least.  And I wouldn't admit to have seen what lay behind the curtain of OZ, knowing that we have all been played the fools that we are.

In my final moments, resting in that hospital bed, I could only stare as I felt my will to live slowly fade to a dying ember.  I had wanted to give up.  I could see no redemption for me.  No angels singing their heavenly songs and no demons wailing their horrid curses.  Just the infrared ghosts of those that I had kill and helped kill waiting for me as Legion.  My doctor was a beautiful Eastern European woman with dark hair and green eyes.  She looked like the Angel of Death herself and the two nurses that accompanied her looked like they had been sculpted out of stone.  I saw them as clear as day, and I silently cried out to the Universe, "if there was any way to redeem myself please give me the chance."  My soul fled into the night and the dead waited for me in my dreams. 

Chasing Love and Revelation: A Reflection Part I

Back in November the mother of my son gave me the advice that I should read a book by Roger Housden about a young man who is inspired by the Mystic Rumi to go searching for the thing that pulled upon his heart.  The unknown mystery that pulls at every man to discover his own creation.  That insistence which can not be ignored, lest they worse than die.

The man that we have come to know as Rumi, was a 13th-century Persian Sunni Muslim poet, jurist, Islamic scholar, theologian, and Sufi mystic.  And a stark reminder today that it isn't the religion that makes the extremist, but the misunderstanding of those belief systems.  For he was a man whose highest desire was Love.

Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī, one of the names he was known by, became a companion of a man who was searching for one who could "endure his company."  I'm not going to speculate on the nature of their companionship, but it was one of heartfelt love, no matter its relation.  After Rumi's companion was murdered, instead of giving into the sorrow and pain, he used his grief to understand the nature of his heart.

Inspired by both the book, Chasing Love and Revelation: A Fable about finding the Heart's True Desire, and Rumi's poetry, I had decided to delve into the nature of my own grief and longing to understand what it was that my Heart truly desired.

I know that had I read this book back in November, the relationship that I had would have probably been salvaged.  But that's a very slim probably. I still hadn't understood the nature of my own grief.  I was still in the process of digging into my wounded heart, to see what the hell was going on with me.  And if I had read it then, I wouldn't have the conviction and understanding of my heart that I do now.  And maybe, MAYBE, the self-doubt that I had back then would have overwhelmed anything that I could have learned.

It wasn't until I was back in Missoula, after I had once again lost everything my heart desired to my own pain and self-loathing, that I surrendered to my grief.  I gained the gift of love from that grief.

I spent a lot of time on the living room floor crying out to the universe to end me.  My shame crashed against me like thunder.  I, still to this day, have no idea what really went on.  Every question I asked was met with a challenge or an accusation.  Every memory examined for the smallest of details, wondering what I missed, how I could have been so foolish, what I had done to deserve this.  Most days I could hardly move, I lost 9kg, and because I lost so much muscle and strength the ache in my bones amplified.  Never in my life have I been in so much pain.  I cried for mercy, I cursed the gods, should they exist, threatened them and begged them.  But no answer came.

Back in November, on Veteran's Day, I had a suicide attempt.  My Lady had been up in a tussle, and I was getting sick.  While I lay in bed she had written out in a blue notebook all the things that she hated about me then left it in the open for me to find.  When she left, I had decided to get up and do all the chores that needed to be done before she came home so we could rest.  When I came across the notebook I was devastated.

I couldn't understand why she believed these things about me.  It was like she believed I was somebody else.  Like she was poisoned by something.  Past memories, events?  I still don't know, nor would she tell me.  But none of that matters now.  Except that she never believed me to be me.  Thought I was weak.  Maybe I was, but not in the ways she thought.

I looked around the apartment and I cried.  She had been the only thing I was holding on to.  The only thing that I felt that I could trust was our love and then... I went into free fall.  I was so numb I could barely write a note.  I simply apologized and told her that I loved her.  Asked her to tell my mother that I was sorry and to take care of my dog.  I had failed her.  I couldn't overcome the circumstances that I had found myself in. In the end, THEY had won.

I had told my truth in front of the world.  And yet I couldn't keep my world together.  I was being attacked and stalked by people hiding behind internet pseudonyms.  I had no trust in governments or establishments.  I felt like I had no one I could reach out to, and I  kept everything hidden inside because she was dealing with too much as it was.  A man who was dying heart, mind, body, and soul cannot be loved by anybody.

I had foolishly placed my faith in nothing.  In a way, many of my attackers were right.  I was just a pawn. Nothing more.  Once I outlived my usefulness I would be discarded.  And I had wasted so much energy and strength to do what I believed was necessary and right, I never gave thought that if I needed help it wouldn't be there.

That's too much to handle for anyone, much less a pregnant woman struggling with herself. Regardless of how strong she is, everyone breaks.  If I learned anything from my time in the military it is that. Everyone breaks.  I had broken more times than I should have.

So i went east, to the statue park and overlooked the fjord.  My migraine was so bad that I could hardly see anything, the light sensitivity driving my eyes to the ground and deep into my hood.  My body ached to the point where I was walking with my cane and the effort strenuous enough to drench me in sweat on a cold winter day.  But I walked as far as I could.

I came to a small clearing away from any disturbances.  In my pocket I had a large bottle of Mead and in my other the dagger that I had been issued by the 3rd SOS during my time in service.  My plan had been to sharpen a stick, ram it into my gut, and slit my own throat, in a mockery of the Samurai's honorable suicide.  I saw no better ending for myself.  No amount of honor could be regained.  I was damned.

I drank the bottle of mead from the horn I brought with me.  I poured my heart and soul out to the universe, asking for the strength to finish the deed.  I didn't want to die with a gut wound, those are painful and the ending isn't quick.  I couldn't go with the stick method so I tried to stab myself in the heart.  Every time I tried, my heart whispered, "wait!"

I argued with it.  I asked, "how could she love a man like me? I told her things that I had never told anyone else and she saw me as a monster.  She was disgusted.  The last time I tried to be open with somebody they did the same thing and it caused me to crumble with the guilt of what I had done."

"So what?" It replied."  Don't you love her? Don't you love your unborn child?  The past is meant for us to overcome its terrible experiences.  Wounds and damage heal, lessons are learned.  Wisdom is only gained through pain.  Growth only comes with struggle."

I cursed my heart and I passed out.

When I had come to it was dark and I didn't know how many hours had passed.  On top of my migraine I was hungover and dehydrated.  I could hardly move.  I slowly made my way back west towards the city, stumbling over my clumsy feet.  All I could think of was her.  How I was going to make it up to her. How I would do better and gain strength again and overcome.  I placed all my self hate in a cup, my holy grail, then made my way back to the apartment.

I don't exactly know how long I stood outside wondering what I would say.  In the end all I could think of was hugging her and apologizing.  I walked in the door, and she attacked me.  I reacted out of instinct and hit her against the wall.  And my cup spilled.  I was damned.  I could think of nothing other than my failures.  My most recent failure to kill myself burned with rage inside of me.  And I had done the one thing that I had promised myself I would never do.  Harm the one that I love.

I'm not placing blame on her, on anyone but myself.  She was terrified.  My reaction gave her cause to be terrified.  I was terrified myself.  I broke, again.  And this time I wasn't sure if all the kings horses and all the kings men could ever put me back together again.

 Fast forwards through three of the most confusing months of my life.  Pause at the birth of my son, the most important event of my life.  I think Alan Watts said there are two important moments in your life: your birth and the moment you find out your reason why you were born.  He became it.  No, always was it.

Where I will always love his mother for giving me my reason to hold on, it wasn't until I held my son in my arms the first time that I understood what True Love really was.  The reason that I exist in this world is for him.  I have made mistakes in my life that people seem to constantly want to punish me for, but for my son I can overcome all things.  That I can teach him the lessons I learned, pass on the wisdom that I have accumulated... I've come to the conclusion recently that there is no greater purpose for me.  There is no greater love that I could give than that to my son.  And I think that is why I still love his mother after all that she has done to me.  Why I can thank her for the pain, and the grief.  For destroying my inflated sense of self and reminding me of where my true heart lay.

I would give anything, have given everything, for truth and reconciliation.  I would endure all pains for my son.  I have found True Love in my heart, and it was with me all along.  For discovering that, no greater gift have I been given.  And my heart sings with Joy in the midst of all my pain.

I love you my son.  Forever and Always.

The Path

Remember, my son
not all seek the Truth
some hide from the Light
others try to break it
those are whom hate themselves
they are the fakers
the misers, false prophets
and deceivers

Be not like them!
Guard your little heart
seek your own path
challenge yourself, know thyself
so that none may stand against you
many will try
they are the external
challenging the internal

You are a gift of creation
Love's eternal promise
understand your morals
persevere with your ethics
the search for inner truth
runs deep within our veins
sharpen your willpower as a blade
cut through the deception

Let not heartbreak deter you
compassion and balance is key
the reward is emotional stability.
when the messenger of romance
calls you to adventure
take nothing but what you need
start with her at the beginning
the fruits of your labor you will see

The material world is a Devil
do not believe it's doubts
of your true potential.
Celebrate within, Child of Creation's Grace
let intuition help you find your gifts
find your inner strength!
Be brave, my son, and focus
my Love is the Star to guide your way.

Ramblings of the Green Man

It's the 24nd of January in Oslo, Norway.  I am alone with my thoughts. I am a prisoner of my mind.

Two months have passed since our trip to New York City premiere of DRONE.  Two months since I have completely lost faith in my home, my family, my country... my People.  Of agonizing heartache that simply won't go away.  Of realizing that while I cannot walk away like I had originally wanted to do.

I'm tired.  My bones are weary, my body aches.  My dreams are filled with loneliness and hate.  My mind burns and my soul glows.  My heart is heavy and my stomach dreads.  I know my fight isn't over yet.

My task was completed.  My ghosts no longer look at me with expectation but with satisfaction.  My ancestors love me and I represent the best of who I could be.  I challenged the gods and they trembled, the world shook beneath my feet.

Humanity is simply apathetic.

Everyday I'm left alone with my thoughts. What is, what could be, what could've been.  I was forced from my world of dreams to confront the Nightmare and all that comes to mind is the simple question:  For what?

Yes, I got my soul back. Just in time to see humanity destroy itself and our planet.

I have made peace with the warring Light and Dark inside my mind, but the scars on my psyche remain to remind me that my destruction was nearly complete.

I confronted my Demons, fulfilled my Obligation to the Dead, faced my Ancestral Judgement, challenged the gods, and submitted to Fate.

I marked myself, my hands, as a reminder of who I am and who I want to be. They are the first things that interact with the world and I always see them.

I discarded the chains of Faith in favor of exploring the unknown.
I escaped the deepest and darkest pits of shame and humiliation. My body was left broken to die by those that I had once dedicated my life, heart and soul, to.  I have learned to control my pain, my rage, and my sorrow, in spite of seeking help and receiving less than nothing. I gave and gave and give and have asked for nothing in return other than mutual respect and love.  The only true things of value that we can share with one another.

I look at the world around me and cannot help but think that it is too late.

I reached my Enlightenment, the Path anyways, thinking that I was one of the Last. That I needed to catch up.  But it turns out that I am Awake during the witching hour.  That most everyone is still sleeping because that is the only true way to escape the terror of the world, the comfort of Dreams.  I'm afraid that what I've learned isn't enough, that my truth, my Light, will be consumed by the void of human apathy.

The Light shows us that which we refuse to acknowledge in the Dark. Exposes our flaws, and vulnerabilities.  Makes us an easier target by those who would rather remain unchanging.

Buddha says that one in ten thousand will seek enlightenment, and one in ten thousand of those will achieve it.  What is that number today with our access to the sum of all human knowledge at the tips of our fingers?  Why do we have people starving and homeless while food rots in storage and houses stay empty?  How did technology go from providing better lives for people to the best method to kill your neighbor and wage war?  Who cannot look at history and not be ashamed at what we have done to be where we are today?  When did we forget the value of the time we have on this world?

I am, and always will be, a scholar first, an explorer of the mind, body, and soul.  I had once wanted to be a "Holy Man of God," but realized that would require me to live blindly.  In pursuit of my answers I was given my proverbial sword and taught that I had to kill for "God and Country."  I was manipulated, indoctrinated, coerced, intimidated, and humiliated into going against my instincts and intuition.  To deny my heart and consciousness, rebel against my conscience...

To become... what?

What happens to a man when he has his dignity, his heart, his mind, soul, body, worth, self-respect, and purpose torn from his very being?

What lost places are revealed in madness and pain?  What drives a man to hold on to himself in the midst of a storm of Fire and Ice?  Abandoned by friends and family, betrayed by brothers and sisters, discarded by lovers, ridiculed by those you served and served with?  Can you, yourself, confront the measure of your own worth, by the debt of your obligation and cast aside your most valuable treasures, turn your back on your dreams to face the consequences of your actions why staring down at the gun in your hands wondering when the turmoil in your heart will be over with?  Hoping that you will find peace and beauty in life because you know that you will not find it in death?

Would you face the ghosts of the Dead that you had killed and the countless others in LEGION, waiting to see what you would do?  I promised mine that I would do what I could to get people to remember the horrors of war.  That I would fulfill my obligation to the Universal Balance before I faced them in the afterlife.  I would make sure that the pain stops with me.

What if you were never given a choice?  Would you avoid life because the pain got too much?  Could you stand up for what you believe in, what you've deliberated and painstakingly thought about while idiots with too much time on their hands and not enough empathy, compassion, & intelligence throw stones and names at you?  Could you stand by while those you trusted to act with authority, wisdom, and honor instead act out like selfish children bullies with no discipline?

I have given everything of myself.  It has not been pleasant.  It has not been enjoyable.  I have gained nothing but misery and heartache.  I have no home, no money, my dog is trapped on the other side of the world and he is my reason for living.  His love and presence saved my life and for a long time he was the only good part about being conscious and present in the world.  Those that I have relied up have shown themselves to be neutral at best, disappointments at the worst.

I am weary. I have done my duty.

I am a nobody who grew up poor and lonely, but loved, in a small Christian community in Missoula, MT.  I was a dreamer who never fit in.  One of the only kids in my church to go to public school and one of the few actively religious people at school.  I had a sensitive heart and healthy imagination. I sought solace in books and stories. I taught myself through observation not how to be but how to NOT be.  I had no mentor, just a wise old holy man who liked to reminisce about Love and Life.  He gave me wisdom but I had to figure out the meaning myself.  I didn't fulfill my potential in school or as an athlete because I didn't have anyone to impress or challenge me.  I joined the Military to escape my fear of debt, pay for my education, and try to impress a pretty girl.  I ended up with a Debt of Souls, a different and more painful education than I had hoped for, and a damaged sense of intimacy and trust.  I hunted and killed human beings for a corrupt and idiotic State.  Willingly.  I pushed myself above and beyond everyday to be a great Airman and military man, to prove to those who pretended to serve that I was worthy of joining their club.  I could outperform anyone on any test of physical and intellectual level and I was still barely good enough.

When I got out of the Drone world I had more Aerial Achievement medals and flight hours than anyone else in recorded history with 36 AAMs and 6000+ flight time hours.  Let's make this clear:  It  isn't anything to be proud of.  It is required that each AAM is worth 50 hours of flight time.  You can only earn 2 hours in a 24 hour period and it has to be consecutive hours on the same plane tail number. Being on break crew?  Good fucking luck.  I should have had 40+ but my flight hours from the 15th RS and the 46th ERS were put into the database wrong.  The flight hours are not how long you've actually been at work, but the number of hours that you've had control of the aircraft with a strong link.  Not how long you were in the seat waiting for takeoff or land.  Not if you were sitting there for an entire shift because you lost link with the aircraft.   I could do my job while I was sleeping and I did it most of the time the last year I was in half asleep if there was nothing important happening.  My head is filled with stupid fucking technobabble and old statistics because I had, at one point, wanted to teach people like the Brits taught me.

I physically trained myself at an Olympic level to be a high performing Special Operative.  I studied psychology and history and warfare on the advice of a Seal Team 3 member that I had met.  I went to University to study creative writing and teaching to be able to better communicate myself.  I wanted to be a mentor to kids and Airmen, young military members, because I saw so much fucking stupidity in MY military that I couldn't stand it anymore.  I wanted to represent the best person, American, and soldier that I could be, because I was taught and trained that is what I should be.

So don't fucking blame me for all your mistakes and ills.  I did my job.  I trusted people to be better.  I passed my trial through the fire and flames.

I joined SERE because I still, STILL, wanted to serve my country as best as I could.  The Drone program was a waste of me, and many others, and it left me feeling like I wasted my time with the job and former co-workers. My accident magnified that a thousand fold.  It really is a shame that log didn't kill me.  Or the MRSA.  Because the faith that I had in my former friends and Operators and Country has been as misplaced as my faith in the pretender Christian god.  My trust in my leadership as big a failure as my trust in Obama to bring about positive change.

I feel like I've been traveling the path of highest resistance.

Strangely enough, it is what I've learned from SERE that helped me survive the worst of these times.  Their code is to Return with Honor, and as the Head of School told me before inviting me back, "it's not how far you've fallen, it's how high you bounce back and conquer."  And, of course, I cannot forget the US Military Code of Conduct:

I. I am an American, fighting in the forces which guard my country and our way of life. I am prepared to give my life in their defense.

II. I will never surrender of my own free will. If in command, I will never surrender the members of my command while they still have the means to resist.

III. If I am captured I will continue to resist by all means available. I will make every effort to escape and aid others to escape. I will accept neither parole nor special favors from the enemy.

IV. If I become a prisoner of war, I will keep faith with my fellow prisoners. I will give no information or take part in any action which might be harmful to my comrades. If I am senior, I will take command. If not, I will obey the lawful orders of those appointed over me and will back them up in every way.

V. When questioned, should I become a prisoner of war, I am required to give name, rank, service number and date of birth. I will evade answering further questions to the utmost of my ability. I will make no oral or written statements disloyal to my country and its allies or harmful to their cause

VI. I will never forget that I am an American, fighting for freedom, responsible for my actions, and dedicated to the principles which made my country free. I will trust in my God and in the United States of America.

Every day, before getting out of bed, I would say that to myself.

I can't do that any longer.  My faith in my Country and People has been fully broken.  I fulfilled my duty, contractual and self-obligatory.  It is time they prove themselves to me and the rest of the world.

We need to grow up, America, and started being responsible adults.  Otherwise we've lost. We've lost it to the corruption in our society, press, religions, politics, corporations... We've become diseased to the point that the best we can hope for is that we don't break the Earth in our deathroes.  No one will save you but yourself.  Rise up and don't let our Legacy be the end of life on our world.

I'll leave you with this. Take it for what you will.

The RED HAND Code of Conduct:

i.  I am Humanity, rising up to prevent the devastation of our world.  It is Life that I fight to protect at any personal cost.

ii.  I am responsible for my actions, no one else.  I will seek the answers that I need through deliberation and wisdom.

iii.  I will represent the best in myself with nobility and honor.  I understand that with strength comes the power to serve, that with knowledge comes sorrow, and with wisdom comes peace.

iv.  I will live my life in a manner that when death finally comes, I will have an adventure to share.

v.  Though perilous and painful this life may be, it is worth it.  I am a guardian of our planet and protector of her life.  I am willing to dedicate my life to her defense.