30 October, 2003
A few days have passed, and their perspective has allowed me to start putting words together again.

Having received some additional encouragement from my wife, Travis Hayduke, and many others, I put some thought into my reaction to the things I read, and why I was so affected. What I read shook my small, comfortable world just as sure as the mortar fire that has, of late, shaken me from sleep.

So what was so stirring? Part of it was the facility that he has with the language. I have, from early childhood, loved words. I have a fascination with putting them together, and how different combinations have different meanings. Even in a language one has spoken from just after their birth, one could spend their entire life in the study and use of language, and never grasp it's every nuance. Travis has a facility with words that goes beyond dictionary definitions. Like a skilled painter, he has an understanding of shade and tint. Connotation, intonation, implication; he is surgical in his use of language. When I read his writing, I felt clumsy and slow. I felt like an apprentice brickmason competing with a master sculptor.

And that is when I became aware of that word: competing.

I have realised, with gratitude to the many who offered me encouragement, as well to the hindsight I have been granted, that there is room for me to be clumsy yet a while longer. No one has asked me to be Poet Laureate of any particular nation, governorate, or village. My thoughts still represent only myself, and will likely do so for the rest of my life. And while I may not have a great deal of patience with my own mediocrity, I am neither consigned, nor resigned, to remaining in such a state.

Travis is a gifted writer. I, too, have been given a gift. Several, actually. I may now add to that list the gift of encouragement from one who has earned my respect. And so I take up the pen once again, determined to learn, expecting to stumble, and eager to fly.

Keep reading, people. It gets better.

October 26, 2003
I am more than humbled. I am undone. Today I ran across this site. It was unintentional. I didn't expect it. I was following a link from a link from a link, and I was faced with the most moving, vibrant writing I have ever read. The depth and significance of this writing was painful and beautiful, like seeing the birth of a sun.

The more I try to explain, the more slow and stupid I feel.

Methuselah's Daughter had the following to say regarding The Beast, on 6 October, and I could not have phrased it better.

"Travis seems to be unwittingly engaged in the task of defining the art of being Man."

Go and see.

If you never return here, I will not blame you in the least. This is the kind of writing I would aspire to, if only I had the courage. I will be visiting that site often, and I hope that I will soon have the nerve to write again.

October 25, 2003
Today was rather slow, conversationally, and I have been somewhat isolated. After much personal debate, though, I have decided to release some of the entries in the journal I have kept during my "business trip" to Iraq. The following is the first entry.

Early Impressions

It is early afternoon, and I have a moment to collect my thoughts.

By most accounts, this would be considered a beautiful day. The sun is shining, there isn't a cloud in the sky, there is a strong breeze coming from my right, and the humidity is well within tolerance. But this isn't a day at the park, or a quiet moment in the backyard or at the beach. This is post-war Baghdad, where "too much of a good thing" has taken on a whole universe of meaning.

I am surrounded by contrasts. I have seen a few of the opulent palaces, most with surprisingly little damage to the exterior. But the efficient use of high explosives has had its effect on the subterranean plumbing, and the now famous gold-leafed fixtures stand unused. Except for one. A sink, salvaged whole, has beel placed on a cart next to a row of portable toilets, a rubber hose supplying it with another attached to the drain and running off into the dust.

There is water all around at the palaces, which makes a sort of perverse sense. In a country like this, the ultimate show of wealth would be your own private lake. Here, there are lakes, and ponds, and canals, and swimming pools. One building has a swimming pool on the second floor.

Another day, I put on full body armour, strapped on a helmet, and rode in an armed convoy across town. The damage along the way was more intense, more visible. Shattered buildings, like skeletal hands reaching toward the evening sky, stand at the outskirts of populated neighborhoods where children play and old men sit in the shade smoking water pipes. In the suburbs, life appears to go on, in spite of the Abrams tanks at every major intersection and concrete barricades blocking the side roads. We drove alongside ordinary traffic. As I ride along in the back of a humvee, the doors removed, a microbus passes us on the right, occupied by a group of men that appear to range in age from the mid 20s to late 40s. Possibly a carpool returning from work, at this time of day. The soldiers surrounding me stay alert but make no move to indicate they are concerned.

At our destination, business is conducted in another palace. I am here at the request of persons who shall remain nameless, to do work that shall remain nameless. Let your imagination wander, and you probably won't be too far off. Discussions are brief and direct, and all concerned return to their work after an agreement to meet again at another location.
The return trip is much like the first. A boy shouts something at us as we pass his neighborhood, but beneath the roar of the engines "Horray" sounds too much like, "Go away", and enough like "give me a candy bar", to know how to respond. Tensions elevate at the traffic stops, but not so much that I won't hang out the door, snapping photos with a disposable camera, once we start moving again.

I've been told what many of you are hearing back in America; that the troops are disgruntled, that they don't know when they are going home, that they would like for heads to roll. I see them every day, though, and I don't find a barely-controlled mob on the verge of rebellion. I see hard-working young men and women, of all races and creeds, just trying to get from one day to the next, and perhaps make the world a little safer place in the process. There is enough to be disgruntled about when you live in a tent with a dozen other people. The little choices you have to make, and those of the people around you, are the abrasion that irritates at first, but eventually smooth the contact between you and those with whom you carry the load. There are places they want to go. They want to go to Hooters. They want to go to Wal-Mart. They want to go to an indoor bathroom.

They want to go home.

Naturally, though, the ones making the most noise are the ones that are most disgruntled. Not much of a story in "I'm fine, thank you." No one wants to stay, of course, but there are few that would complain outside his or her circle of compatriots. If you ask them, they say they are proud to be a part of rebuilding this place. They say they will stay as long as it takes. Even the single parents, more of whom are out here than one would like to think, will tell you they miss their kids, but they won't complain to you. That's just not the way things are done here.

More to follow.

October 24, 2003
Over the past week, I took a little tour of the internet, to see what people are discussing. As you have seen, I?m an opinionated man, and I relish the opportunity for some friendly sparring in the arena of ideas.

So I am wandering around, taking in the scenery, and I ran into a BLOG. Fascinating concept, the blog. It seems to be a journal, with the added feature of allowing people to leave comments to discuss the ideas the blogger has put forth. Utterly fascinating.

One blog appears to lead to another, as the community seems to be rather tightly knit. I read a bit hear and there, occasionally leaving a comment as a particular train of thought ran over my intellectual foot. I ran across a particular blog, though, that carried some rather inflammatory comments, without offering the opportunity to comment.

?What a cowardly way of presenting your thoughts and ideas,? I thought to myself, immediately regretting having thought it so loud.


? Well, E., don?t you do the same thing??


I hate when I do that.

To be honest, I have become a lot more comfortable discussing my writing and ideas with other people, and have even, in a very limited number of cases, revealed myself to some people whom I trusted to be discreet. Therefore, I have migrated the Journal to a weblog. All the entries that you have read here, and all future entries, will be found on the weblog, as well as here in the Journal. There will be a lot of tweaking to the page in the next few months, but I don?t expect it to be completely down any time soon. Comment areas are open for all entries. I ask very little. Be courteous, even in disagreement. If you want to trade insults with someone, exchange email addresses and do so in an arena that will reduce collateral damage. Commercial advertisements will be deleted. Try to stay on topic. If I see something wandering off, I will, in most cases, I will make another entry that is more appropriate to what is actually being discussed. Over time, I will add links to other weblogs of interest.

If you have questions, feel free to email me, and I will get back to you.

October 23, 2003

SIC SEMPRE TYRANNUS

NOTE: Mr. E is now on his 101st consecutive day of working 14 hours a day minimum. If, at this point, his entries seem a bit disjointed, or the spelling and punctuation do not reflect his ordinary capabilities, he apologizes to offended parties, and wishes to assure the readers that he retains his usual level of sanity, which was questionable from the outset of this journal. We now return you to our regularly scheduled entry.

Roughly translated, "Here's what to expect if you are a ruthless dictator that, through various activities and diatribes, has convinced the community of nations that you pose some eventual threat to global safety." Some multinational military services members in this photo are enjoying a two-hour respite from their duties to have a social gathering. The large cavern you see in the background is reported to have been one of Saddam Hussein's bedrooms.

I don't mean to imply that multinational coalitions will start dropping from the sky and commandeering your pool. Additionally, I doubt that any ruthless dictators are reading this journal. However, I know there are some out there that would think of this as a very appropriate "flipping of the bird" to a certain mustachioed, recently unemployed egomaniacal autocrat.

I had the pleasure of stopping by this soiree. I spoke to a few of the young enlisted, and not-so-young commissioned. They are holding up well. Morale is high, and they generally feel that they are doing some important work there. I tend to agree. Schools are being built. Public services, which were in poor shape before the war, are being restored. Additionally, all those butt-ugly paintings of the guy with the mustache are not so ubiquitous. That alone has got to be worth something.

October 22, 2003
OK, this question is becoming cliche, but it was the thing that popped into my mind today, so it is, by default, the topic of conversation.

What would Jesus do?

The last time I was in America, I saw that phrase everywhere. On the surface, it seems simple enough, even if it is becoming a bit overused and, I hate to say it, almost obnoxious. We will touch on that a little further down the line, though.

I look at what Jesus did on a pretty frequent basis. Jesus, if you have heard anything of his reputation, doesn?t do anything too surprising. Jesus healed sick people. Jesus encouraged people that had made mistakes in life and wanted to correct them. Jesus got angry at leaders that held their congregations to standards to which they themselves did not adhere. Jesus gave comfort to people that had lost a loved one, occasionally by returning the loved one to them. Jesus paid taxes. Jesus held a job. Jesus liked kids, and told people off when they tried to send them away. Jesus was a single guy who had other single friends and, on occasion, had dinners with them. Jesus held his ground when people told to shut up because he was rocking the boat. And when it came time to be accused, Jesus simply stood there and told the truth.

What surprises me, looking at the church that follows him, is what Jesus didn?t do. Jesus didn?t get angry with people that were doing self-destructive things, even when these things were forbidden by Mosaic Law. Jesus didn?t run for public office. Jesus didn?t avoid people that followed a different set of beliefs. Jesus didn?t, it appears, avoid anyone. Jesus didn?t ask anyone to pass a law against things that were against the Law and the Prophets. Jesus, as far as I can see, never asked anybody for a dime/drachma/mite.

I wonder, occasionally, why people seldom ask, ?What would the Buddha do?? Neither do you hear people ask what Krishna, nor Mohammed, nor Vishnu, nor Confucius would do. I don?t think I have ever heard anyone ask what Darwin or Einstein would do. Maybe it is because they wouldn?t have done anything in particular, or perhaps it?s because no one who follows those people as their primary source of inspiration expects to be able to adhere to that standard. I?m in the dark on that question.

I do, however, know this. If there were more people in the world that really looked at what Jesus did, and then tried to emulate that, the ?Christian Community? would find itself a lot less harried than it is today. Ask yourself, though. If you knew someone, some Jesus Freak, that really behaved in the same way that Jesus did, even without the miraculous stuff, would you want to spend more time with that person, or less?

So I asked myself this question. ?E., since you are on this ?What would Jesus do? kick, what would Jesus do in Iraq, if he were on the Coalition side??

Sometimes I really don?t like the questions I ask myself.

Jesus would do what he always did. He would comfort the mourning, heal the injured, and be angry at those who thought that God had a list of people ?that just need killin?? to use a phrase I once heard in Texas.

Would Jesus have invaded Iraq? I can?t answer that one. That question goes to the very heart of the nature of God, the justification of war, the nature of violence, and the definitions of Good and Evil, which are all waaaaaaaaaaaaay out of my league.

October 19, 2003
I?ve been upbraided. I?ve been reprimanded. And I am wallowing in the stinking filth of my own humiliation.

OK, it wasn?t really that bad. I was reminded of something, and I feel a bit silly for having needed the reminder. I mentioned a few paragraphs up that the only person that we generally celebrate on the anniversary of His death was the Christ, and that wasn?t really the death, but the resurrection. Well, like any good rule, this one has an exception.

Elvis.

I almost feel foolish writing about Elvis. When people talk about Elvis, they generally do it in one of two or three ways. Some talk about him in his last years. They remember that Elvis was a fat guy that shot his television, wore rhinestones, and died on the toilet. They remember the excess, and the extremity, and the Jungle Room. On the other end of the spectrum, some talk about Elvis in his splendour. They remember a handsome young man who could sing, write, act, and enlisted in the Armed Forces. They remember talent, and good looks, and charm.

There are, of course, also those people that talk about Elvis as being in the same category as Bigfoot, UFOs, the Bermuda Triangle, Jimmy Hoffa, and Professional Wrestling. In this category, though, reside people of both camps above. Whether in honor or execration, Elvis is talked about in terms that are bigger than life. Even Bono Vox, who is a bigger-than-life figure himself (whether you like it or not, mate, because you aren?t allowed to be famous and ordinary at the same time) writes of Elvis as having a quality like the Pharaohs.

But the truth is that Elvis wasn?t bigger than life. When I remember Elvis, I don?t recall the movies, or the Vegas shows, or the peanut butter and banana sammidges. I don?t think of rhinestones or limousines or bullet-riddled televisions or drugs or even Graceland, even though I think most people, if you asked them at the right moment, would admit that they, too, wish they had a Jungle Room. When I remember Elvis, I think of Hayride.

That was Elvis when he was Elvis Pressley. In the days before the movies, and before the hit albums, he was a young man with a guitar. He was a young man, full of nerves and butterflies, playing a song on a live radio show. There was no cape. There were no hot spotlights. There was no Colonel Parker offstage. He was a young man making music. Just some kid with a guitar. That?s the way I think of Elvis. Young, honest, and no idea what he was getting himself into. He just wanted to make a living doing something he enjoyed.

The trouble is, once people know you are good at something, you get more attention. People want to make you bigger than life, and take you way more seriously than you ever wanted. It becomes a struggle to keep your perspective, and it?s a struggle that few win in the end. And that is why, long before we were mourning the loss of Elvis, he was mourning the loss of himself.

Say what you will about the man from Memphis, or the Vegas act, or the movie star. I miss the boy from Mississippi with the infectious smile that sang songs because he loved to sing them.

October 18, 2003

The time has come, with thanks for your patience, to discuss the Occupation of Iraq.

Opinions abound on this subject. Some think that, had the original UN Coalition done their collective job, this trip would not have been necessary. On the other end of the spectrum, there are those that disagreed with the first Coalition, and disagree even more emphatically with the current Coalition. Their disagreement, in most cases, stems from either a strongly-held belief in resisting violence, or an equally strong suspicion of their own governments.

There are also a few, though the numbers decrease daily, that disagree with the action because they liked the way things were before Saddam Hussein left town, not because he was such a swell guy and you could always count on him to be the designated driver on karaoke night at the Al Smak Jabhouti Lounge, but because they benefited greatly from his being in power.

To address the first issue, the UN Coalition had a single purpose, which was the liberation of Kuwait (thank you for the reminder, Tanya). They did their job rather thoroughly, as we can be pretty sure that Saddam isn?t hiding out in Sheik Al Khalif?s Palace in Kuwait. As for the third issue, those people have perhaps gained enough already. I think even the most ardent opponents of redistribution of wealth would agree that there is an inequity that needs to be addressed here.

This leaves the adherents of peace. Watch carefully, now, because I am going to make a few sudden turns up ahead.

I agree with peace. I am rather fond of peace myself. I would personally sooner put myself in harm?s way than see another injured. I decry violence in all forms, as I do the glorification of violence. Violence is seldom the answer to any of the world?s issues. This is why I initially supported the Invasion of Iraq, or Operation Iraqi Freedom, as it has come to be known.

Now, my opinion has changed slightly. I now believe that it no longer matters whether or not I supported the Invasion. What matters now is that the Coalition is, indeed, in Iraq, and is working toward rebuilding an entire country that had fallen into serious neglect. Long before the bombs started dropping, there were water and power issues in many cities, to include Baghdad herself.

If you have been to Iraq in the last 3 years, you will know that it is, for lack of a more eloquent term, a hole. There are a couple of dozen beautiful palaces, the Mother of All Battles Mosque, and the half-completed Saddam Hussein Mosque, which are well-kept and attractive, and the rest of the country, especially in the Kurdish north, is in shambles. Saddam Hussein sucked his people dry, even through an international embargo, to keep his lifestyle opulent.

This is beginning to change, slowly. Services are being returned to the communities. The looted hospitals and banks have been largely repaired and are open for service. Water and electricity are being turned on. Some estimates state that it will be anywhere from four to ten years before the water and power are completely restored, but at least they appear to be making the effort to get the ball rolling.

So how long should the Coalition stay? Good question. In addition to rebuilding roads, buildings, and power stations, the Coalition has a much more precarious reconstruction to perform, which is the Spirit of the Iraqi People. For decades, they have been beaten like junkyard dogs, kept in poverty, and forced to genuflect before their abuser with public displays of adoration. The entire nation is suffering from, if I may use the term, Battered Citizen Syndrome. There is extensive therapy required here.

If you know anything of Judeo-Christian tradition, or if you even attended a Sunday School for any length of time as a child, you may remember that God brought Moses and the people of Israel to the Desert of Sin, for therapeutic purposes. And 40 years later, He decided they had recovered to the point that they could move on. Of course, God didn?t have the Internet or CNN, but that whole Pillar of Fire thing was a good substitute. Regardless, the world should prepare itself for the Coalition staying in Iraq for a long time. And if there is a way they can help the people of Iraq regain their dignity and prepare them for self-rule, then the sacrifice will not have been in vain. It is a cause worth supporting, and I encourage others to do the same.

October 14, 2003
It has been two days since the anniversary of the Bali Bombing. Outside of Bali, Australia, and Britain, it doesn't appear that much of an event has been made of the day. Considering that it was the second deadliest terrorist action since the attack on America in September of 2001, and was brought to you by the same organisation, one might think that the Yanks would make some sort of gesture, if only to improve public opinion regarding the Occupation of Iraq.

Most people will agree that the acknowledgement of some other person's tragedy, whether he is a friend, a brother, a neighbor, or someone you just met, is at the very least in good taste. And considering that both sets of innocent people were killed by the same organisation, the common bond involved would warrant at least a phone call one year down the road.

I'm sure the teeming masses of readers are just all ate up with curiosity where I am going with this. On the surface, it began as just an upbraiding of the US. "Shame on the US," I thought, "for expecting the world to don sackcloth and ashes for years when tragedy strikes on American soil, but not even having the time of day for the anniversary of such a thing done to one of it's allies."

But, of course, nothing stops at the surface here. After the initial reaction, I had to ask myself another question.

"Well, E., what is the appropriate action in this case?"

I ask myself pretty good questions, although I have to admit I don't really call myself "E." during these conversations.

So I had a debate over it for a while. Western society, of which I am a part, doesn't spend a lot of effort on dead people, for the most part. No one, for example, sets aside a day of rememberance for Mahatma Ghandi, Dr. Martin Luther King, or Steven Biko on the anniversary of their deaths. As a matter of fact, just about the only historical figure that does get a day of remembrance of His death is the Christ, and that isn't so much for the death, but the Resurrection.

So we've established that we don't like to remember when people were killed. Thousands of years of ingrained fear and discomfort with the idea of death aren't going to be changed because I said so, even if I were Secretary General of the United Nations (there's another possibility you can cross of your lists, if you are still interested in my identity by process of elimination). I suppose the point I needed to get to was that American's are probably not, as a whole, marking these anniversaries in order to honor the fallen. Were this the case, they wouldn't spend Memorial Day shopping and picnicing. What they appear to be doing, unfortunately, is keeping the rage going.

I will admin that I got misty-eyed the first time I heard Darryl Worley sing "Have You Forgotten". I will confess that I nearly wept openly as I stood among the Coalition Forces and sang that song together with them, just after a reading of that week's dead and wounded. But the remembrances of the Americans I know, for the most part, do not bring to mind Requiescat in pace so much as Nemo Me Impune Lacessit.

This is not a repudiation of the Coalition Occupation of Iraq. My feelings on that will wait for another day, as I have gone on long enough already. It is merely an observation, at this point, that a government cannot keep even the most righteous war going for much longer than it can keep the populace angry at the enemy.

October 11, 2003
Well, my friends, it's been a couple of days, and I find myself with a few moments to spare, so I thought I would come back and revisit the thoughts immediately above.

While I am thinking of it, I will mention that today I am listening to Natasha St. Pier. Her album De L'amour le Mieux has the beautiful song Nos Rendez-Vous. Elle chante les belles chansons, mais elle n'est pas reellement Francaise, ainsi je suis heureux.

But I digress ...

Why is the world worth saving? I know, it sounds like a stupid question. I think I can say, without risk of revealing anything about myself, that the world is where I live, and I am either related to or on friendly terms with many of it's people. And yet, as I mentioned earlier, it seems to be in a rapid state of deterioration. It brings to mind many ethical questions. For example, are you a person who believes in legalized assisted suicide, living wills, or euthanasia of any kind? If you cannot justify the use of heroic measures to save the life of a person, can you justify the use of them to save a species, genus, or even a planetary population?

At what point does one let go?

At the risk of argument ad Hitlerem, I would ask you to consider the following. We decry tyrants and despots throughout history because of the evil they have caused. Idi Amin was a fine example, if I remember correctly. Outside of his immediate family, he had few mourners. I'm sure you can think of others yourself. Has not humanity caused an equal, if not superior, amount of suffering to itself on its own? It is true that humanity has produced some good as a species, but for whom? Joseph Stalin had some lovely buildings commissioned, and the people in charge of the Inquisition had some lovely architecture as well, in addition to beautiful music. At what point does evil outweigh good?

The answer, I believe, is what I believe to be a startling revelation, an epiphany, if you will. Good and evil are not concepts to be balanced, or even compared. They are independent entities.

There are those that believe in a Balance. They propose a Yin and Yang approach to life, that light must be balanced with darkness. Should you walk up to one of these people in the middle of a good time and stomp on their toe, though, they will not thank you for restoring their balance. When they are fit and in the prime of life, explain to them that, in order to preserve the balance of forces in their life, they must spend an equal amount of time in poor health. Conversely, if you go to a person struggling with a debilitating illness and suggest to their family that it is nothing to be concerned about, because they will be well later in life in order that the balance may be preserved, and they will, at best, think you an insensitive idiot.

Good and Evil are not sides of the same coin. Most people, as a matter of fact, would have a difficult time defining them, much less finding a balance between them. In current society, evil appears to be defined as, "things that happen to me, or things that I have heard of happening to someone else, that I don't like". Remember, though, that if someone was responsible for an action, then someone got some pleasure from it. If you can't define Good or Evil, you certainly can't relate them, much less equate them.

Therefore, if Good and Evil are independent concepts, then the question no longer is, "How bad does it have to be before we give up," but "How good does it have to be in order for us to be willing to keep it?"

Therein lies my reasoning. To quit trying to save the world, I must admit that it was all a waste of time in the first place. I don't think that I am willing to do that. Because Good and Evil are not brothers, but opponents in a war.

Essentially, if there is any good in this world, any at all, it is worth any effort, to include my own life, to see that the Good is perpetuated. Wars were meant to be fought, and they were meant to be won.

And I am not fond of losing.