Healing Combat Trauma

Into the (Mental Health) Gap - Military Chaplains and Others

I was hunting around on the Web tonight for material for a different post entirely -- one about the rumor that military chaplains are being pressed into service as stop-gap mental health counselors -- and whether this is a good, albeit temporary solution -- or an overly simplistic band-aid with unforeseen complications -- when I came across this news item instead.  It's a pretty good wrap-up, from a good reporter at the Air Force Times, Karen Jowers, about some solutions the military, particularly the Air Force, is offering its servicemembers to cope with combat trauma, PTSD, and long deployments.  The article is worth reading, and is linked here.

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As far as the chaplain topic goes, which I wasn't able to find enough information about to verify that it is indeed contemplated, here are some off the cuff thoughts.  One is, and probably paramount, anything is better than nothing, if it goes to the good of the afflicted servicemember.  If there's too long a wait at the VA to see somebody, provided that the chaplain is generally qualified and perhaps even recently trained in PTSD and related issues, far better to see someone, quickly, than no one, or to have an unduly long wait.  It sounds like too many people can't endure the wait, when they've got troubling topics on their minds.

That said, let's hope that's not being proposed as anything other than a stop-gap solution, while the VA fixes the problem it has of too much demand and too little supply (qualified counselors, able to make appointments with veterans.)  I only know anecdotally of three different chaplains in the military lately, and the stories are mixed.  Story #1, referenced earlier in a blog entry here, is about a chaplain who himself suffered PTSD after being deployed to Iraq, then was sent to Hurricane Katrina while he was still affected, and though he was a middle-aged man with a wife and family, was so stressed out by the experience that he is now divorced and homeless.  That's not a good story, but it was told to me by the mother of an Army soldier who committed suicide after coming back from Iraq, and ironically, it was the chaplain who had been a source of support for him earlier; until the chaplain's own exposure caused troubles larger than what he could handle.  That's Story #1 that I know about, and it's negative.   

Story #2 is the cheery-seeming, snappy-sounding, highly quotable, funny and cool chaplain from the Minnesota National Guard, who's quoted in so many of the NPR stories from 2006.  (References to Chaplain John Morris of the Minnesota National Guard on this blog are here, here, here, and possibly here, not to mention, most recently, here.) He sounds generally delightful, sane and grounded -- and really an asset to those he's around.  That's Story #2, and it's uniformly positive. We don't know the man personally, of course, but he's made a great impression on us, and, it would seem, on NPR as well.

Story #3 I was exposed to the other night, when I was chasing down more information on the Web  about  the wonderful Maxine Hong Kingston and the book she edited, Veterans of War, Veterans of Peace.  I was able to see her and a panel of combat veterans and interested others, whose pieces make up that book, in Santa Rosa, CA recently, and wrote about it on this blog.  I've also watched the Bill Moyers special that aired over Memorial Day weekend last year about her book, which covered a few of the participants as well.  There are only two videos I've found on the Web that relate to Maxine Hong Kingston and her work with the veterans' writing project, and recently I watched both of them.  They're located here and here.  In the second one, one of the panelists at the talk at the Commonwealth Club in San Francisco, in April of this year, is a young Marine named Jim Castellanos, who tells a quite cautionary tale of turning into a conscientious objector as a Marine, and more particularly, for the purposes of this blog entry, about being what amounts to "blamed and shamed" by the chaplain he's required to see, which only serves to further burden the already conscience-stricken young man.  (If you want to watch the video, it's embedded below, and Castellanos starts telling his story at about the half hour point into the video -- minute 30 or so.)  (See Wikipedia, linked here, for a definition and background of what a conscientious objector is, a term familiar to many of us from the Vietnam War.)

Again, the focus of this blog is apolitical, so including this story isn't to be pro-war or anti-war or anything but pro-veteran.  However, his story is pretty troubling, in terms of the communication he had with the chaplain assigned to him.  It sounds like the chaplain was a South Vietnamese guy who had immigrated to the U.S., joined the military, and been deployed several times with the Marines.  Perhaps his OWN experience of living in war-torn Vietnam as a maturing adult contributes heavily to his own bias, but he appears to not be aware of this bias when he is "counseling" Castellanos. 

The synopsis of the story is that Castellanos, who had joined the Marines at 17 in high school, later had a change of heart -- perhaps due to the maturing process, perhaps due to reading more philosophical texts in college, whatever -- and decides that he's really not cut out to be in the military after all -- doesn't want to carry a gun and doesn't want to kill people, for any reason -- in other words, pretty much the poster boy for a well-reasoned, Conscientious Objector -- the chaplain he meets with is someone it's hard to picture has ANY people skills or therapeutic counseling skills.  Castellanos tells the story from his own perspective, of course, but it sounds like the chaplain was pretty harsh with him -- and really taunted him, in a fairly unprofessional way -- about his ideology, to the point that Castellanos apparently felt worse off from meeting with him, than if he never had had the conversation. 

Later, he's able to meet a more reasonable person and talk to him about his feelings -- not that the Marines ever ultimately accept his plea to become a Conscientious Objector -- but to say that the first chaplain "got all up in his grill" is pretty descriptive.  Castellanos was already troubled about his decision, just based on internal pressures he was feeling, and the chaplain did nothing but mock him and essentially increase the external pressures.  Someone like this isn't someone you'd really like to see doling out any pastoral care to troops with sensitive issues and psychological pain.  Don't take my word for it, watch the video, and hear it from Castellanos himself.  So that's Story #3, and the chaplain was very destructive, and insensitive to the point of being actually harmful.  So out of three stories: that's one positive and two negative.  Granted it's a small sample but it's not filling me with confidence on the topic as a whole.  What I'd like to see, and what I'm sure a lot of us would like to see, is the VA just stepping up to deliver the care that's needed, with qualified counselors and speedy wait times for veterans.  Stop-gap measures probably shouldn't be anything but the most temporary solution.  That said, if it brings any veterans needed relief in the meantime, while the system is being fixed, more power to 'em.

The Vietnam Memorial - Sacred Ground

Thinking about the Vietnam Veterans Memorial lately, and how it's coming up on its 25th anniversary, it was interesting to read the following in the uniformly stupendous small book, 365 Tao, by Deng Ming-Dao.  The reading for the other day was about "history" -- and although the Vietnam Wall wasn't built on the battlefields of Vietnam, but thousands of miles away in America, the reality is, there will be much that resonates with what he says, because the outpouring of grief that happens in Washington, D.C. around the Wall must surely be cathartic as well, addressing as it does a very melancholy piece of our recent human history.

The reading was called "History," and it opened, like the other readings in the book do, with a short poem, followed by a more expanded thought.  Herewith the poem and the discourse.

"Autumn trees swept with dawn.  Look as if they've been lacquered.  Rooted around an old battlefield.  The mists linger here like ghosts."

"There are still places where you can walk and feel a profound bloom.  Such is the case with old battlefields.  People died there.  The force of their determination still resonates.

You can find such places in every country.  Often no one builds anything there, even when the land is [expensive nearby.]  We say that we do not want to forget our dead.  We say that there should be a memorial.  Others say that the disturbance there is so great that the living cannot abide with the dead.

History is essential to our understanding of the present.  Unless we are conscious of the way in which we came to this point in time as a people, then we shall never fully be able to plan the present and the future.  We need to know what roots are still alive.  We need to know how things came to be so that we can project from here.  We also need to know the failures of the past so we can avoid repeating them.

History is not always glorious.  Sometimes our history is melancholy.  We must accept that.  This life is terrible and people do terrible things to each other.  If we are to live for the sake of the good and strong, then we should have as much of a background as possible."

How Do Veterans Want Us to Listen to Them?

As the Christian existentialist philosopher (how do you combine those two widely divergent concepts in a single sentence, or a person? Ahhh, never mind) Paul Tillich once said, "the first duty of love is to listen."  The question of the hour should be, how do returning combat veterans from Afghanistan and Iraq want us to listen to them?  What would that be like? Undoubtedly, with compassion, concern, empathy over sympathy, nonintrusive listening versus active probing, and certainly, without judgment.  As we learn more, we'll share it.  Undoubtedly many veterans (especially from Vietnam, and others who have been home a while) will have ideas on how best to listen and care.  On what listening would look, feel, sound like to them.

Compassion and Empathy

"Once or twice this side of death, things can make one hold his breath" -- from "Crystal Moments," a poem by Robert P. Tristam Coffin.

Last summer when I had moved back briefly to New England, I made a point of every weekend going to art museums in the area, because there are so many and they're each so good -- and art is one of those treats I always want but rarely allow myself.  So it was a great experience "catching up," so to speak.  I saw a lot of great work that summer, but one item in particular stands out.

As I rounded the corner in the basement of the Isabella Stewart Gardner museum in the Boston's Fenway, a museum a fellow "Books for Soldiers" volunteer had told me not to miss, I saw something that absolutely took my breath away, and on reading the inscription, the experience only sharpened.

What I saw was a full-size, or maybe even slightly larger than full size, wooden statue, covered with gilt, of an androgynous-looking woman, with a very open body posture much like the statue in this photo.  Like a person in deep conversation with someone, listening intently but with concern and feeling for who she was speaking with.  Remarkable!  And like nothing else I've seen in art.  Who was it?  Well, it turns out to be "Kuan-Yin" - a diety of compassion - and the statue is from the 11th century in China.  It turns out "she" has a long and storied history, being also known as the "Bodhisattva Guanyin."  Wikipedia provides more information about who she is, but one of the most salient parts is that she is one who "observes the cries of the world," in suffering.

This brings up the question of what is "compassion," really.  Sometimes in the West we've mistaken that, wrongly, for pity.  The original meaning, in the Latin, seems like it has more to do with "suffering with."  What do veterans need from us?  They need to be heard, and more from empathy even than sympathy.  I once had a veteran tell me that what he appreciated most about my concern was that it came from empathy -- feeling with -- not sympathy -- feeling for. He said there were way too many people wanting to offer sympathy -- and if they really wanted to offer sympathy, they should have gone.  But someone who takes the time to understand what they've gone through -- that's more valuable, in the veterans eye.  Interesting and thought-provoking.

The dictionary says compassion is "deep awareness of the suffering of another coupled with the wish to relieve it."  From the Latin, it means something like, suffering with.  The reality is, we can't always relieve others' suffering -- but at least we can listen, and care what others have gone through.

NOTE: Sadly, the gift shop at the Gardner Museum didn't sell anything to do with this statue, not even a postcard.  Perhaps the fact it was positioned outside the Ladies' Room had something to do with its respective honor among the diverse collection.  But apparently the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City also has a statue like this, and there may be others.  And here's a link to a physical statue online that can be purchased, along with a little more description of who the statue represents -- large statue and smaller statue.  Ironically, a stylized version of this statue is the cover art of the Tao of Healing, a cd by Dean and Dudley Evenson that we've listed in the sidebar, that's highly rated for its therapeutic properties.

Helping the Warrior to Make Peace (with Himself or Herself)

Catching up on some items worth noting -- here is an Interesting blog post from back in May, by an Anglican priest - referencing the well-known. British World War I poet, Wilfred Owen.  The blog entry focuses on helping the warrior to make peace within, and is well worth reading, about the effects of war on the soldiers who fight them, from a spiritual perspective.

Paddling the Canoe Without Tipping It

The inimitable Chaplain John Morris, quoted in the equally inimitable Pine Journal of Cloquet, Minnesota, as it wraps up its four part series on returning veterans, called "The Long Road Home," had these highly quotable things to say, in an article published today:

“Going into combat is a little like canoeing across the lake of life,” said Morris.  “When you leave for war, it’s like standing up in the canoe and upsetting the balance of family life.   While you’re gone, your family takes over the paddling, but when you return,  you’re likely to jump out of that canoe and flip it, swamping it.  Many families have been faced with bailing out that canoe, and they suffer extreme duress over something they thought would be joyful.  A lot of families can become exhausted from paddling that canoe through life.”

"He encouraged returning soldiers to seek whatever help they need so they can make a successful adjustment back into the life of the community.  And if the community is committed to helping them, he said, that period of readjustment faces a much greater chance of success."

The article also concluded that it was wiser for "anyone seeking advice and direction ... to contact any of these resources rather than to try to “tough it out” on their own. (The resources are very Minnesota-specific, but the concept is good overall).  Kudos to the Pine Journal on a truly excellent, yet homespun series of practical, well-written articles, that should be a guide for other papers nationally to do the same.

Our Suffering Is Not the Enemy Quote

And this longer passage, from a recent book:

Our suffering is not our enemy

“Society teaches us that suffering is an enemy.  We are constantly encouraged to reject what is unpleasant, disappointing or difficult.  “What’s all this suffering?  Let’s be happy!  Have fun!”  But our suffering is not our enemy.  It is only through a relationship with my pain, my sadness, that I reach the other side, that I truly can know and touch the opposite, which is my pleasure, my joy and my happiness.

“I often relate to my emotional suffering as though it were a physical pain.  When I feel physical pain, society pushes me to take mediation to relieve it, not to touch it, not to explore it or seek to understand it.  I am conditioned to make every effort to avoid discomfort.  I went through a  long period of my life living from this conditioning.  I took a lot of drugs, so many that I couldn’t feel my physical pain or my emotional or spiritual pain – at the same time, it was also impossible for me to touch genuine joy, or healing, or anything at all.  It was just impossible.

“My body is covered with scars from my wars.  Every time I look at my body, touch one of these scars, I touch against the reality of war, and when I touch the reality of war, I touch all the suffering that is intrinsic to war.  In the past, when I felt pain from a scar, I tried to repress it, to hide it from myself.  But the physical wounds are not the most significant wounds of war.  The wounds of the soul, the spiritual wounds, the emotional wounds – they are far deeper, though less obvious.  And they are much more unpleasant to look at.

“Can I imagine a time in the future when these scars and these experiences will dissolve, drop away, so that I will finally be free?  This is not actually a condition of freedom.  I’m free right now.  Because I can acknowledge that the scars are there.  Because I no longer wish for them to be any different from what they are.  Don’t get me wrong.  I spent a long time wishing that the scars of my life would just go away.  But the more I wished for this, the crazier I felt.  Because the reality is that my scars are part of me, like my own hand.  I needed to learn to acknowledge them and to live with them in peace and harmony.”

--At Hell’s Gate: A Soldier’s Journey from War to Peace, by Claude Anshin Thomas. Boston: Shambala Press (2004).

Augustine of Hippo Quote

"Anyone who looks with anguish on evils so great must acknowledge the tragedy of it all; and if anyone experiences them without anguish, his condition is even more tragic, since he remains serene by losing his humanity." -- Augustine of Hippo. One Bullet Away: The Making of a Marine Officer, by Nathaniel Fick. Boston: Houghton Mifflin (2005).

 

(Congratulations to Nate Fick, whose excellent book, One Bullet Away, was just awarded top prize by Barnes & Noble for their "Discover Great New Writers" of 2005 Award.)

Native Americans Address Healing Combat Trauma

Indian County Today, "the Nation's Leading American Indian News Source," has an article in today's paper about how "Navajo and Hopi veterans of northern Arizona will now receive the counseling, services and traditional ceremonies they may need to help them re-adjust to civilian life after the traumatic stress of combat or military service."

The article states that "The Post Traumatic Stress Disorder Treatment Expansion Program is being funded through a new three-year, $250,000 grant, which has been used to hire three counselors to provide PTSD treatment services to Navajo and northern Arizona veterans."

Interesting article about a great resource now available to Native Americans, many of whom have served in combat.

At Hell's Gate

A book which has GOT to be interesting, for the unique perspective its author can provide, is "At Hell's Gate: A Soldier's Journey from War to Peace," by Claude Anshin Thomas.  (See sidebar for link to the book on Amazon.)  Thomas is a Vietnam vet turned Zen Buddhist monk who was heavily influenced by famous Vietnamese Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh.  Here's what the publisher, Shambala, had to say about this book:--

New Memoir by Vietnam Veteran Turned Zen Monk Explores

the Causes of Violence and offers Viable Alternatives

At Hell's Gate: A Soldier's Journey from War to Peace By Claude Anshin Thomas

"Written with relentless courage and utter compassion, this account of violence and transformation is one of the most amazing and wonderful stories Iíve ever read." -- Michael Herr, author of Dispatches, and screenwriter of Full Metal Jacket and Apocalypse Now

At Hell's Gate (Shambhala Publications, on sale September 14, 2004) is Claude Anshin Thomas's dramatic coming-of-age story and spiritual odyssey, offering profound insights into how we can end suffering and violence in ourselves and in our world.

At Hell's Gate is a first-hand account of how the dehumanizing experience of war, along with the experience of family trauma and violence passed down from generation to generation, can create a perception of reality in which atrocity becomes commonplace. At a time when American soldiers are returning home from combat in Iraq and Afghanistan, injured both in body and soul, Thomasí memoir of serving in Vietnam and returning home is especially relevant.

In this raw and moving memoir, Claude Anshin Thomas recounts the story of his service in Vietnam, his subsequent emotional collapse, and how he was ultimately able to find healing and peace. Thomas volunteered for duty in Vietnam at the age of eighteen, where he served as a crew chief on assault helicopters. By the end of his tour of duty, he had been awarded numerous medals, including the Purple Heart. He had also been responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people, witnessed horrifying cruelty, and narrowly escaped death on a number of occasions.

But upon his return to "normal" life, he hit rock bottom, unable to function. Like many Vietnam vets, he struggled with post-traumatic stress, drug and alcohol addiction, and even homelessness. He suffered intense flashbacks, and thought regularly of suicide. He was not alone. Roughly 58,000 Americans were killed in Vietnam, but, according to a former director of the Veteransí Administration, over 100,000 Vietnam veterans have committed suicide in the years since.

A turning point came when Thomas attended a meditation retreat for Vietnam veterans offered by a Vietnamese Buddhist monk. The experience so moved him that he soon became a student of Zen Buddhism, and eventually a monk himself.

Thomas, who has taken vows of mendicancy, now actively travels the world, making peace pilgrimages and teaching people how to end violence and war personally and globally. He leads "street retreats," meditation trainings and is invited to present over 130 talks per year. Thomas takes the unequivocal position that "war is never the answer." At the heart of Thomas' message is the understanding that war is actually the collective expression of individual suffering, and it is only through our personal actions and insights that we can hope to end war globally.

At Hell's Gate is not just a war memoir - it is an inspiring manual for healing that anyone who has experienced trauma can truly appreciate and benefit from. Thomas had the extreme experience of serving in Vietnam, but he reminds us that, "everyone has their Vietnam." We all experience suffering and have our own wounds. In simple and direct language, Thomas offers timeless teachings on how to heal emotional suffering, as well as practical guidance in using mindfulness and compassion to transform our lives.

Around the time of the book's publication, Thomas will be conducting a peace pilgrimage, walking from Concord, Massachusetts, where the first shot of the American Revolution was fired, to the site of the World Trade Center in New York City, to the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington, D.C. From there he will be traveling to over 60 cities across the country giving talks to universities, religious organizations and veterans groups.

Claude Anshin Thomas went to Vietnam at the age of eighteen, where he received numerous medals, including twenty-seven Air Medals, a Distinguished Flying Cross, and the Purple Heart. Today he is a monk in the Soto Zen tradition and an active speaker and Zen teacher in the United States and Europe. He is also the founder of the Zaltho Foundation, a nonprofit organization that promotes peace and nonviolence. This is his first book.

At Hell's Gate: A Soldier's Journey from War to Peace
By Claude Anshin Thomas
September 2004
$19.95 hardcover _ 192 pages
ISBN: 1-59030-133-1
Shambhala Publications