Let me essplain. I spent 2 nights in Las Vegas with my best friends in the world for a bachelor party (which I won't be talking about), to experiencing 4 nights in Washington DC with nothing but time for self-inflection. To blow myself out in sin city, and then find myself with no restraints in our nation's capitol, was a very, very humbling experience; to be honest...something I never thought I would be fortunate enough to experience.
There are an infinite number of things I could try to illustrate for you, and their (possible) implications on my life. It's going to take me more than a few weeks to sort out my feelings, but I can already tell you that the experience itself really has helped me to re-evaluate my perceptions on what is and is not important to me right now. I'll try to explain one of the instances that has combined with the others to create this new outlook.
I decided to take a trip to Arlington National Cemetery by myself. I know that I have at least one family member there (as well as one on the Vietnam memorial), but something stronger drew me to the trip itself. I decided to take the tourist-y tram; JFK's eternal flame, the changing of the guard at the tomb of the unknown soldier, Arlington house and back to the front gate. However, I never made it past the tomb of the unknown soldiers. While the changing of the guard was fascinating (the amount of tradition and detail put into the examination of the new guard's rifle, in order to make sure he was worthy of watchdog duties over the sacred ground was stunning), I decided to strike off the beaten path. I found an intense desire to explore the deeper parts of the cemetery; these men and women have given their lives to defend the freedoms which allow me to visit their resting ground...the very least I could do was to acknowledge as many as possible for their sacrifice.
As I turned the corner up into a new section of this national landmark, I was stopped in my tracks by a 9 horse procession; 3 rows of 3 horses each, 2 manned, 1 left empty, pulling a casket with an American flag draped over the ends of the housing. I found myself, without hesitation, following the caravan to their plot, which had a clear view of the Lincoln memorial, Washington memorial, and capitol hill. As the family let out, I identified a younger woman (no older than 40) who let herself out of the first car as the wife of the deceased. I politely explained that I was from out of town, and would like to pay my respect for her loss. She nodded, hugged me, and invited me to stay.
The next hour became a blur. The prayers, the 21 gun salute, the bugler playing TAPS, leading to the folding and presentation of the flag to the still nameless widow was seen through mosaic eyes. I couldn't keep my composure if I had tried; I didn't want to. In these moments, I began to really understand the power of choice. These men, women and children that surrounded me weren't crying out of sheer sadness...had I asked, I guarantee that 9 out of 10 would have explained how proud they were of this gentleman. In his short time in this world, he found his calling as a soldier. He was so comfortable with himself that he was able to make the choice to protect the rights, freedoms and potential of myself and everybody around me. I could only hope to find a sense of self so strong; I've decided to find it for myself.
I can't pretend that I understand his motivations for the person he chose to become...but I have begun to feel the rewards which come from it. I've begun to feel an overwhelming sense of fulfillment from being accountable for my own choices. It seems juvenile and simple, but its incredibly difficult to not want to hide behind your crutches. As human beings, we all put up our walls to help mentally justify our excuses for not taking responsibility for our choices, or for our lack of ability to make them.
"It's not the right time." "I have bills to pay." "My family is holding me back." "I was in a moment of weakness." "I'm waiting for a sign."
I understand its only been a week, but I don't ever want to forget this feeling. I no longer want to hide behind myself. My choices will be made with confidence, with conviction, and will always be made with no excuses necessary.
Because maybe I can save somebody too. Or maybe I can save myself.
There are an infinite number of things I could try to illustrate for you, and their (possible) implications on my life. It's going to take me more than a few weeks to sort out my feelings, but I can already tell you that the experience itself really has helped me to re-evaluate my perceptions on what is and is not important to me right now. I'll try to explain one of the instances that has combined with the others to create this new outlook.
I decided to take a trip to Arlington National Cemetery by myself. I know that I have at least one family member there (as well as one on the Vietnam memorial), but something stronger drew me to the trip itself. I decided to take the tourist-y tram; JFK's eternal flame, the changing of the guard at the tomb of the unknown soldier, Arlington house and back to the front gate. However, I never made it past the tomb of the unknown soldiers. While the changing of the guard was fascinating (the amount of tradition and detail put into the examination of the new guard's rifle, in order to make sure he was worthy of watchdog duties over the sacred ground was stunning), I decided to strike off the beaten path. I found an intense desire to explore the deeper parts of the cemetery; these men and women have given their lives to defend the freedoms which allow me to visit their resting ground...the very least I could do was to acknowledge as many as possible for their sacrifice.
As I turned the corner up into a new section of this national landmark, I was stopped in my tracks by a 9 horse procession; 3 rows of 3 horses each, 2 manned, 1 left empty, pulling a casket with an American flag draped over the ends of the housing. I found myself, without hesitation, following the caravan to their plot, which had a clear view of the Lincoln memorial, Washington memorial, and capitol hill. As the family let out, I identified a younger woman (no older than 40) who let herself out of the first car as the wife of the deceased. I politely explained that I was from out of town, and would like to pay my respect for her loss. She nodded, hugged me, and invited me to stay.
The next hour became a blur. The prayers, the 21 gun salute, the bugler playing TAPS, leading to the folding and presentation of the flag to the still nameless widow was seen through mosaic eyes. I couldn't keep my composure if I had tried; I didn't want to. In these moments, I began to really understand the power of choice. These men, women and children that surrounded me weren't crying out of sheer sadness...had I asked, I guarantee that 9 out of 10 would have explained how proud they were of this gentleman. In his short time in this world, he found his calling as a soldier. He was so comfortable with himself that he was able to make the choice to protect the rights, freedoms and potential of myself and everybody around me. I could only hope to find a sense of self so strong; I've decided to find it for myself.
I can't pretend that I understand his motivations for the person he chose to become...but I have begun to feel the rewards which come from it. I've begun to feel an overwhelming sense of fulfillment from being accountable for my own choices. It seems juvenile and simple, but its incredibly difficult to not want to hide behind your crutches. As human beings, we all put up our walls to help mentally justify our excuses for not taking responsibility for our choices, or for our lack of ability to make them.
"It's not the right time." "I have bills to pay." "My family is holding me back." "I was in a moment of weakness." "I'm waiting for a sign."
I understand its only been a week, but I don't ever want to forget this feeling. I no longer want to hide behind myself. My choices will be made with confidence, with conviction, and will always be made with no excuses necessary.
Because maybe I can save somebody too. Or maybe I can save myself.
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