Veteran's Day 2007
IN THE COMPANY OF SOLDIERS
In the company of soldiers
I have no need to explain myself
In the company of soldiers
everybody understands.
In the company of soldiers,
I don't have to pretend to be the person I'm not
Or strike that pose, however well-intended, that is expected
by those who have not known me under arms.
In the company of soldiers all my crimes are forgiven
I am safe
I am known
I am home
In the company of soldiers.
327 BCE
3B's
posted by The Minstrel Boy at 8:02 AM
10 Comments:
Thank you for your service, MB.
I am grateful for it every day that I live and breathe.
(((hug)))
Thanks, minstrel.
Timeless sentiments, from what I understand.
Thank you for all you do, and all you have done.
diekenes, a spartan lieutenant at thermopolye, was said to have walked upon one of the inevitable philosophical discussions that pop up around the fires of any military camp. the spartans were discussing the definition and the nature of courage. they decided that it was not the absence of fear, but the knowledge that there are things that matter more than fear. (this was quoted by zenophon in the anabasis)
as he approached the group they asked him what the opposite of fear might be. diekenes didn't hesitate a moment. he spoke one single word that said it all.
"Love."
a heart that is filled with love finds little room for fear.
thank you.
What a beautiful response-- love being the opposite of fear.
It is said in psychiatric circles that the opposite of love is indifference, and not hatred. Hatred and love are hot; indifference is cool. It looks like love is the antidote to many afflictions.
p.s.--and how fun,the first letters of my assigned word verification were "JOY".
Here's a great quote from The Rude Pundit:
Here is perhaps definitive proof that there is no God, no being that gives a flying ratfuck about what occurs on Earth: when Vice President Dick Cheney placed a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknowns at Arlington National Cemetery, the ground did not open up and vomit forth the zombie corpses of the thousands upon thousands of dead there so they might rip Cheney's remaining functioning organs out and drag his heaving, screaming being into realms of hell where he might be forced to suck mustard gas, be immolated by an atomic explosion, and be burned by napalm, all while having bullets fired through his flesh and grenades with their pins pulled shoved up his ass.
Alas, no, such savage poetry of gore is reserved for the real world, the real soldiers who wreak violence and who die in the real wars for the pusillanimous men whose experience of it is to merely honor the dead while merrily sending more to die.
i saw him placing that wreath and i swear i stopped breathing for a moment.
it was that offensive to me.
Used to visit The Rude Pundit every couple of days but I've fallen off lately; seems I'll have to change back.
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