In Memorium

 What if?

How many of us live in our imaginations as if we have access to an alternate timeline?

What if I had known this about myself when I was younger?

What if I had said yes?

What if I had said no?

What is it that brings those thoughts out?  Regret?  Curiosity?  Masochism?

Is it a waste of time to think on these things or is it just another mental exercise?

Our favorite entertainment worlds invite us into these possibilities from Marvel to Dr. Who to Halo.  That's right, I started this whole post just to talk about the Halo books :)

In one of my favorites, Mortal Dictata by Karin Traviss, Spartan Naomi 010 is the first Spartan to take a look at her file.  Having been abducted as a child and 'conscripted' into the Spartan II program she doesn't remember anything about the abduction or her life before training, but she feels guilt now that she knows she was stolen.  Oddly so does another Spartan, Serin Osman, future head of ONI.  Guilt, but they can't put their fingers on why.  They're both emotionally guided by the AI 'Black Box' (BB) into understanding that, yes, they were exceptional enough to be chosen for the Spartan program but back then they were just children.  Six year old's are emotionally incapable of reasoning out the machinations of adults and especially those of their own abductors!  Take down methods and psychological warfare were not yet in their toolkits.  

{OK, if I've peaked your curiosity about the Halo book universe I recommend you start with the original three written after the XBOX game gained popularity (The Fall of Reach, The Flood, First Strike).  And then read and read and read!  There are over three dozen books and all really well written in my opinion.  But before you read the Kilo 5 Trilogy (Glasslands, The Thursday War, Mortal Dictata) which occur after the Covenant War, read Ghost of Onyx.  You'll thank me.}

I personally hate the hypothetical road.  I never indulge it intentionally.  If feels ungrateful.  It always feels sad.  Mostly though, it pulls me away from the present. In a time of my life when I had little to nothing and more pain than joy, I learned to live in the present.  There was nothing else.  The past brought me here, the future is waiting for me, but I'm here now.  The present is the only place we have power.  It's the only time we really exist.  If you learn from past mistakes, great!  Learn and use the lessons but don't dally with ghosts.  You are not who you were.  There is no 'What if' reality.

A lesson I've learned that I don't ever remember being taught is to widen my definition of personal power.  And since it's the little things that keep me sane, sometimes I do things that don't do anything  but make me feel better.  So here's my fan fiction extended ending to Halo: Mortal Dictata.  

*I SWEAR TO GOD DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE KILO 5 TRILOGY!  SUPER SPOILERS AHEAD!  YOU'VE BEEN RESPONSIBLY WARNED.*

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In Memorium

"....In other news the Voi Memorial, testament to the sacrifices of so many lost during the Covenant War, is currently undergoing minor restoration due to recent vandalism.  The declassification of details on the controversial Spartan II program has sparked not only outrage by the general public but demand for Dr. Katherine Halsey's name to be removed from any and all 'places of honor'.

"In choosing to spearhead this unique reunification program, I've taken on the task of reconnecting with not only the family that had lost me but with who I am capable of being outside my armor.  I'm here today to encourage my fellow Spartan II's to participate in this program beside me, and expand your capacity of service.  

"As with all special forces, we are a family unit; one I will forever be proud to be among.  And in most ways I will always be a Spartan.  But I'm challenging each of you to join with me in becoming even more.  We are only now learning how much we have lost, individually.  And of the few of us that do remain it would be easier to continue to stick together and weather through the pain.  But if there is anything you can depend upon from a Spartan, it's our ability to adapt to new intel.

"Beginning  with the security breach within ONI, the exposure of our post abduction psych profiles threw the Spartan II program into a whirlwind.  For us to be reintroduced to our own young tearful faces splashed across the newsfeeds put a chink in our otherwise invulnerable shells and we were forced to accept that we were harnessed for someone else's agenda.  Would we have become Spartans if given the choice  is a useless and insulting question.  But here we are.  Spartans, with a choice."

She sighed.  "That's as far as I've gotten.  I still need to integrate the parameters of the new program in terms that don't sound like forced retirement from all they were created to do but...."

He interrupted her by placing his hand on hers, a gesture she had quickly grown to appreciate.  

"Naomi, sweetheart, you're going to be great."

She smiled at him and decided to ask. "Dad, do you know anything about the vandalism at the memorial?"

WEAPON OF CHOICE

 A spark of Being

safely caged

Entombed within a justified rage,

The armor of the current age,

I give to you, The Soul.

A soldier cried

two blocks away

When Innocence died

another today

And his grief proclaimed to the World

that It had not destroyed his Soul.

Bundles carried

placed with care

A list of names

we cannot bear to see

But we refuse to look away.

You cannot have our Souls.

War has always shown Its might

against the flesh

but not the fight

Of those who Live to put It in Its place.

It will not silence those Souls.

The weapons used of might and steel

Can never rival Light and Will

A spark of being

safely caged

Entombed within a justified rage

Our armor for this current age

We'll not relinquish our Souls.

.

Zero Complaints

 I said it today, about the cool breeze after a week of sweltering non-breeziness.

"I have zero complaints"

It's a very specific statement, in a specific setting, under specific circumstances usually.  For me, though, I'm a zero-complaints kind of person.  It's not that I'm quiet.  Naive isn't me either; quite aware of bad guys and whatnot thank you.  It's that my personality tends toward conflict resolution, not conflict.  I'm not even competitive!  I've never enjoyed winning if I thought someone wanted it more.  It just isn't important to me. {If I went to therapy it would likely be suggested that my self esteem is so low that the risk of a loss isn't worth the reward of a win.  Which is why I don't waste money on therapy.  Believe me, I've considered the theory.}  Other people being happy leaves me full, not empty.

Zero complaints, however, does not mean zero concerns.  I have all the popular concerns!!  And someone like myself feels caught in a moral anti-grav situation (I've been reading space stories lately); tetherless, no foothold, weightless in a useless way.  I'm geared toward injecting positivity into situations but....  

How do you resolve someone's hateful joy?

What can bolster the weight of a career cut short by corruption?

What words can comfort a society who lives on the edge of their seat, waiting for it to be their turn as the victim?

Actually these questions have all been answered.  Our country is new to this game, but it's an old playbook.  It feels so villainous to us, because it's us!  How did this happen here?!  Yeah, that's what everyone who's doing well asks when they're no longer doing well through no fault of their own.

Empires don't fall in a day, but they all fall.  Look to the history books for ideas of what happens next, where to scream, and how to help each other heal.  The helplessness we feel isn't real, is what you'll find.  It's a weapon that has been used by schoolyard bullies and tyrannical leaders alike.

You have a voice.

You have power.

You can make a difference.

To quote Percy Shelley

"Rise like Lions after slumber, in unvanquishable number,                                                                           Shake your chains to Earth like dew,                                                                                                             which in sleep had fallen on you.                                                                                                                 Ye are many, they are few."

Music. To my ears....

For the past few years I'd felt the need to be constantly paying attention; news radio for the win.

And I became comforted over the bond of shared trauma I was discovering.

We all, internationally, were losing people to Covid.

Every country faces turbulence, at some point.

Violence. Is. Everywhere.  Not just here.

I found it a strength, this bond, and I sought it out for my own insecurities and fears.

It's group therapy.

It's advice columns.

It's late night satire and stand up comedy.

And this mutual suffering was what helped me relax my shoulders, pop another 'stress mint'* and continue on with my day.  Mostly.  It didn't always work as quickly as I would've liked.  And I didn't always remember to group myself in with others, and felt the weight of reality alone.  Then one day, I changed the channel.

I'm new to classical music, and whatever was playing that day filled the space and I recognized it immediately as a balm.  As something so starkly different from what I had been bathing in.  I wanted to close my eyes to take it in but I was driving so I just kept going, and absorbing, and allowed it to remove me from the tension and divisiveness of what had become normalcy.  And something happened to my need to find comfort in a similarly suffering group.  In this music I didn't hear an orchestra of musicians playing together, rather I felt individuals contributing to a shared piece of work.  I envisioned the sacrifice of practice and failure.  The calloused fingers, the aching backs, the pride of their contribution.  When I hear an instrumental piece, I become one with each individual.  Because that is what I am.  I am just one.

Of course, I knew ABOUT classical music before I heard it that day.  The chick in Ghostbusters II plays a cello, right? (That is honestly what comes to mind when I think musician, which is grossly unfair to my exceptionally talented pianist of a sister.)  Also, I was in school band for ages!  Why now would music be affecting me in a different way?

Maybe it's a need to see the value of individual contribution, however small.

Maybe I'm searching for the building of a masterwork, amidst so much tearing down.

Maybe it's because in order to suffer with someone, I need someone else to be suffering and I just can't bear that thought anymore.

Or just maybe a part of me decided that my suffering would be more valuable as conviction.

I've gone back to news radio.  I can't seem to turn away from it most days, always on the edge of my seat to know what's happening next.  And I know the rest of the world, country, city, town, family is paying attention, too.  I still love stand up specials and I habitually take in late night satire a few times a week as I appreciate the effort involved in making us laugh at the pain and fear we're sharing.  The contribution being made.  But the classical station is also in my 'favorites'.  One button away from the day's latest updates.  And that's why my shoulders don't feel so much weight anymore.  It's why I'm okay with my one-ness not being much of anything to the world.  And it's why I chuckle at the memory of holding up that metal triangle, so many years ago, awaiting my cue to contribute to the whole.

*Stress mints.  I've mentioned them before.  I keep a pocket full of Lifesavers individually wrapped mints at all times.  I buy 3 lb bags of them every few months. When I feel tension, I grab a mint, unwrap, inhale the smell and pop it in my mouth; all in less than a second.  I'm very susceptible to scent, aromatherapy, and I immediately sense calm with the inhale.  

Petals

I walk a path of petals

While parallel

They, barefoot, tread on stone.

The only trait in common

Is that neither of us

Walks our path alone.

On a soft leaf

There's no consequence for stumbling.

No blood is spilled as recompense for time.

Stone, though, is unforgiving.

Steps forward punished

As if they were a crime.

My path is laid before me

And we chit and chat

Of this and that

As petal bearers adorn

Where my steps should fall.

While the stone sisters

Lift each other's heads,

Dry each other's tears,

And continue forward;

As pain does not diminish when you stall.

I ask my ladies,

"Shall we share my petals to their path?"

They reply,

"What of those who follow in your steps?

How bear their feet if luxuries you waste?

So generous of you to consider but come,

Let's lead ahead of them in haste."

As time is tested, as sure as the petal path

before me is leading,

I think of the sisters.

Stronger, forging, creating their way,

And I remember the excuse of my luxury

Not to be wasted

On feet already bleeding.

The Upside (or) How to Carry On Into Tomorrow

 To begin, I won’t be patronizing you with any ‘to do tips' of positivity.  We all know the basics, and it’s getting darker outside every day here in America.  (Is it possible to overdose on calm mints?)  But this is where we are for now.  It feels as if we have no control over whether we’re going to be safe in our previously safe spaces.  This is Covid.  This is BLM tumult.  This is uncertainty in the U.S. and it has become the norm.  Is it our fault?  Yeah, some of it is but if you’re reading this then it’s not likely you’re high enough on the blame scale to really carry too much of the responsibility (no offence). 

 So for starters,  ( I said no ‘to do’ tips, so the following are firmly within the realm of ‘take action’ guidelines)....

1) Cut yourself some slack.  Are you among the group that  ‘Did not vote for this’, but did vote for him?  Then make sure you are personally a part of the fight against him!  You don’t have to pretend you’re something you’re not to try to right this boat.  Bring the discussion to your church, your neighbor, your family members.  Our party divisions are a part of the problem, but they don’t have to be.  Upside is you can repurpose your MAGA hat and use it as a collection tin, for starters.  Humility, it’s what's for breakfast.  

2) Cut that other guy some slack.  It’s done, and it shouldn’t have been but it is.  So here we all are, in the kiddy pool full of sewage wading side by side.  ( Note the ‘author’s choice’ to give you a sloshy poop filled inflatable pool as a visual.  I wanted it to be relatable. [ the pool, hopefully not the sloshy poop])  No one is going to be immune to what we have in store for us.  No one will feel free, most won't feel safe, and all will feel ashamed by what this country will become. And I’m sorry I’m stating this future as fact but optimism doesn’t delete reality.  Upside is I might be proven wrong.

3) Tomorrow will come.  With or without our contribution, it will come.  It’s most likely to be even darker tomorrow, and your contribution (like mine) will not be able to change it by much.  We can be a part of all of tomorrow's contributors, though.  And then we can contribute something the next day.  Do you write?  Please put it out there!  Draw?  Do it!  Are you rich?  Distribute them dollas!!!   Macrame?  Crank out those plant holders! The time to be timid is past us, put out the song you’ve been working on.  Our country needs us to be the best versions of who we are right now!  How can a macrame plant holder help America, you may quite reasonably be asking?  Never underestimate the value of a person’s time.  Anything done with passion has unique power.  Personal sacrifice is what Americans are known for!  The American dream has always come at some cost.   At this point the question of ‘what do I have to offer?’ needs to go hand in hand with ‘what do I have to lose?’. Upside is, the world will remember the fight the Americans put up, should our country go down.  And our plants will look nice.

Kindness of Strange

To be a strange kind

a kind strange

takes from the soft heart 

a strong will

Awareness

the ability to know

knowing to act

acting to change

pain

fear

the fear of their pain

too much to relieve 

circles back

to act

Understanding

to be only one 

is never to be only

one voice

one response 

one donation

of your sweat

to the 

whole 

but 

a part

a piece

a step forward

away from the dark

for someone to see the light you know.

Survival

as a strange kind

a kind strange

is to know

exposure

hope

no armor

to speak

no motive

to seek but

that of adding to the mercy

my strangeness.