More from the longtime Navy vet and former leader in the mythopoetic men's movement:
“We tend to call it the real war. The rest of it’s just the show biz war. The real war involves getting down there and killing people. And being killed yourself or just barely escaping it. It gives you attitudes about life and death that are unobtainable anywhere else.” -- Paul Russel, "The War" on PBS.---
"He had 80 weight of Spanish iron
Between his breast bone and his knee
But Billie broke locks
And Billie broke bolts
And Billie broke all that he came nigh
Until he came to the dungeon door
And that he broke most manful lie."
-- Old Ballad.
How can one be free, with 80 weight of “Spanish Iron” trauma between the breast bone and the knee? Out of the combat zone, out of danger, but not out of the trauma, but still have 80 weight of trauma between our breastbone and the knee, that one must carry. Is there a place one can store that “Spanish Iron"?
Is there a place one can lay down the burden, perhaps just for a while? Just long enough to get some rest, sleep without dreams of horror, not jump from noise, trust someone to touch the body with compassion. Some place where understanding does not get in the way of rest. A place the body can move freely, not tense with expatiation or anticipation...
If that weight is on the soul, how does one remove it, leave it behind for a while, remember where it is, trust it will stay there forever? We may have to back and check on it, a lot at first, but learn to trust it is in safekeeping. So we can continue on our path toward a new life, unburdened with “80 weight of Spanish Iron”.
There are old ways of leaving heavy burdens borne by warriors, returning from bloody encounters of enemies. There are ways other warriors and community can show a sacred place to store the burdens of war, guarded by ancient spirits of warriors past.
Each warrior has a choice of the manner in which to leave their burden. Some have been washed in lamb's blood, others blessed by a holy man or holy woman, Some, though not many have left burdens to be watched by Fairies and Unicorns. Others have sent their burden into a drum, or flute, instruments taken down from walls, held as one would hold a small child, playing with abandon.
According to ancient warriors, only a ritual or mystical path, will lead one to the right place. The soul of the warrior will know the place none other. Each soul knows the best path to take, though sometimes the body will resist, out of respect to the memories contained in the warriors' Spanish Iron .
Some bodies follow an unknown path, and find solace in a poor storage container. Sometimes these paths promise to be easy. They lead to containers of spirit smoke, and drink, and false intensity which is so familiar to the body, the voice of the Soul is muted.
The correct path for the warrior may also be his or her most difficult one. Many have words that describe this path. One spirit of courage left this saying for those who choose their path:
“to be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best day and night to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.”
“let it go-the
smashed word broken
open vow or
the oath cracked length
wise-let it go it
was sworn to
go
let them go-the
truthful liars and
the false fair friends
and the boths and
neithers-you must let them go they
were born
to go
let all go-the
big small middling
tall bigger really
the biggest and all
things-let all go
dear
so comes love”
-- e.e. cummings, U.S. poet (1894 - 1962).
