Don’t give up. You are worth surviving your wounds.
It all adds up. Accumulates. Pain, trauma, losses. Anger, resentment, guilt. Buries You underneath. You watch your Self vanish, become unrecognizable. And wonder if you’re too far gone to be saved.
Is there such a thing as too far gone to be saved?
You’re tired and it never seems to get better. Your life is permanently altered. You try not to think about it, but you can’t help wondering if it was worth it.
Are you too far gone to be saved?
What you want is relief. An end to the pain, the anxiety, the feeling that ever since you came home you’ve done nothing but disappoint everyone. That you’re failing everyone. Constantly.
Misplaced. Displaced. Misunderstood. Too different. Too angry. Too volatile.
Your love was the battlefield. Your soul is still there.
But you can’t go back. The war is over. Or, rather your war is over.
And you’re so fucking tired of fighting your Self.
Too far gone to be saved?
You see ghosts, or rather, feel them. Hear the voices of those who blew up or bled out. Here one moment, gone the next. Still here though.
(there is no gone)
You move through your time now reacting to dangers only you once knew.
Too far gone to be saved?
Pills, therapy, band-aids, thank you for your service.
What do they know of where your soul is?
Where is your soul?
Oh, yes. Still there.
Call it back.
I don’t know where it is.
Yes, you do.
Call it back to you.
Souls do not die. Souls cannot be too far gone.
There is no too far.
To be saved.
Save yours. Save the only one you can.
Too tired. Too far gone.
Too much loss.
Too much heartache.
Too much failure.
Too much being the cause of pain.
Too much believing you are alone.
Too much blaming your Self.
Too much forgetting that you belong.
Too much holding on to what was.
Too much waiting for someone else to
heal what only you can release.
What only you can allow.
Too much denying that grace is not for you.
For denying grace is a choice.
Too far gone to be saved?
What if death does not resolve what you wish to escape?
What if the only way to end the pain is to stop believing you are too far gone?
What if healing does not mean erasing, but releasing, surrendering your Self
to your Oneness with all beings?
Starting over with new beliefs?
What if the only way out is to dissolve into the Eternal Love that has always held you?
Not by killing your Self, but by loving your Self?
Yes, that Self.
The one you rage against.
The one you infuse with whiskey and nicotine,
The one you berate, hate, reject, blame, shame.
Incriminate. Judge. Condemn.
The one who wants to be saved.
The one who waits for your kindness.
For you to understand that
You need your own compassion.
More than you need others’.
Tending. Gentleness. Honor.
Shaming wounds, raging on wounds,
Blaming wounds only keeps you wounded.
There is no shame in being wounded.
War is designed to hurt.
You are designed to live.
You are a warrior who is gifted with the wisdom of death.
The awareness of life.
The ability now to create life from death.
By the power of what you choose to believe.
What you choose to walk toward.
How you love the one who needs your love the most.
In this moment.
In this choice.
Too far gone to be the same?
Too far gone to be saved?
It’s a dark, calm night deep in the forest.
Tucked away in these woods is a spacious tent — tall and wide with wards running off in multiple directions. Cots line these wards as warriors sleep under the watchful guard of Light Beings who grace the aisles. In their presence, a deep peace settles as a gentle breeze softly flows, bringing the breath of life.
It’s cool and quiet and still.
You slip into this tent, crawl into an empty bed, and your presence is noted. You are welcome here. You belong. You are safe.
You drift into a deep dreamless slumber, as every stress, every pain slips away, your entire being completely relaxes. This is the place of high safety. Here, nothing can touch you. Here, all dark forces are kept at bay. Here, you rest.
You remain as long as your soul desires. You may come and go at will. The Light Beings keep guard, soothe broken hearts, lay gentle hands of healing on chests cracked by grief, remove layers of hardened protective energy to infuse new life, move stuck energy in armored stomachs and worn gun hands, soothe clenched muscles and tired minds.
You rest, you are safe, you belong.
Overarching all is the protective spirit of the One Who Walks Beside. Under this care, each one is held, each one is tended…
Each one is found.
I invite you to use this vision whenever you need a place to dwell. When you need comfort and relief. Enter the tent and rest.
Finding purpose after the military feels almost impossible, doesn’t it? It’s not that you don’t have skills to translate into civilian work. It’s the underlying sense of why you are doing it that feels so off. Once you’ve been responsible for life and death, millions of dollars worth of equipment, or leading others into and through combat — well, compared to that, most civilian jobs fall flat. They feel insignificant, meaningless, boring. You feel restless, unsettled, empty.
You can’t take someone who has been trusted with life and death, put them in a mundane job and expect them to feel satisfied, right?
Maybe. Or maybe you can.
What if there’s a way to feel purposeful in any job you work? What if there’s a way to live so that it isn’t the job, but you personal mission in life that gives you purpose and meaning?
The only way to find true meaning in work and life is to live your life in a way that serves the greater good.
That’s right. Service. Living an other-focused life.
And you know what? Most of the angst you feel around not having purpose outside the military is because you are no longer living a life of service. That higher mission, that higher calling, that sense that you exist to serve the good of many is missing.
It’s time you put it back into your life.
I don’t care why you joined up or how disillusioned and angry you may be now with the government and society, until you decide to put your life back into service for humanity, you will remain stuck and purposeless.
Why? Because you are a soul who was designed to serve.
You entered the military with a much deeper spiritual calling on your life than you realized. You came here to this earth to allow your life to be used for the good of humanity. When you chose to be a warfighter, you took on some of the greatest depths of experience and responsibility a human soul can agree to. You signed up to be a death-bearer in this world for the purpose of protecting the innocent. And that’s what you did.
But your spiritual calling to serve is not over.
It’s precisely because you have been an instrument of destruction that you have the potential to become a powerful instrument of good, love, life, creation, beauty, joy. You may not feel that you are wise or have a lot of depth and you may not feel any of those things right now (you can get there) — but you know what? You already have what it takes to be this person, right now, in you.
You know more about what makes Life, life — than anyone. Because you were death, you know what life is in ways no one around you knows. Because you have lived through hell, you have the greatest potential to lead others to life. What you have to give to others is an enormous gift of insight, wisdom, understanding, a willingness to be real, to get to the depths of life that so few are willing or know how to dare enter.
You can relate to those who are suffering and in pain. You know how to listen to the deeper truths that can’t be put into words. You know how to be present and show up and talk someone out of fear and into battle.
You know how to be a warrior of the soul. For the soul.
Can you imagine how valuable you could be to someone who is going through a life-threatening time? The kind of support you could give to someone battling cancer, for instance? Or how you could teach your child how to persevere and talk herself into courage when things are tough? Or how you could help teenagers grow into stronger versions of themselves? The possibilities are endless.
But it’s not what you do that matters, it’s why you do it.
To get to living a life of purpose, you have to decide who you are going to be in this world.
How do you make this life I’m talking about?
- Own your life. No more excuses. No more blaming. No more self pity. No more bitching. No more complaining about how life sucks. No more toying with the idea of suicide. No more waiting for someone else to make your life better. You were not killed in combat. You are still here.
- Decide who are you going to be in this world. Positive? Negative? A believer in good and possibility? A force for life or a hindrance? You going to build or destroy? Look at life with strength and courage or whine and blame and wallow? Brave or coward? The one who makes your life happen or one who waits for someone else to make it happen for you? A leader or a follower? You have to decide these things. They’re your choices. (If you’re too depressed to believe you can change, try to remember what it felt like before you joined the military and you weren’t quite sure you could become what they said you’d become — that’s where you stand right now. You can change your life when you decide to do so and when you take action to change it.)
- Face the truths about where you’re at. The only way forward is to start where you are. That means you accept the truths about where you are at right now. Do you have PTSD, a TBI, depression, are you suicidal, do you drink too much, are you abusing drugs, do you have physical injuries that need medical attention, do you need to break up with your partner or turn to them and ask them to help you figure this out? You can’t move forward if you are living in denial or unwilling to move toward healing, wholeness, and wellbeing. Take a small step toward moving your life toward healing. Talk to me if you need guidance on how to do this.
- Start retraining your mind. We often think that we have no control over our minds. They do what they want. But while that is true to a large degree, we DO have control over what we believe about life. Our perspective on life, our attitude, is the one thing we can control. You can say no to your mind. You can choose to not go down that familiar path of fear, self-blame, self-abuse that leaves you feeling worthless and wanting out.
It takes effort, it takes the same determination as working out to build your muscles — you have to commit to it and do it, over and over. When your mind starts heading down that path, become aware of it and say no. It may take weeks, it may take months, but minds can be retrained. Old beliefs can be dismissed. New beliefs can be embraced. Freedom comes when you realize you get to choose the beliefs you’re going to have in life.
- Put your life into service. Re-enlist your life into one that exists to serve humanity. This is where you find your purpose. Not your job – your purpose. The why you are here now. Make it your personal mission to be a force of life, of love, of kindness, of generosity, to add more life to this world, to be gentler because you’ve known rough, to be kinder because you’ve known cruel, to lead others to courage. You start with the people you interact with every day. Your mission is to be life in this world now. You are done being death.
When your mission is to be life, to be love, to be kindness, to be courage — then your purpose is to be that. No matter where you are. No matter what job you have. Your purpose will come from within you. And this sets you free to do any kind of job out there that you need to do for financial reasons.
A Marine brother once told me that it doesn’t matter where the government sends you, what battlefield you’re on, where you’re deployed – what matters is that you’re a Marine. Your job is to serve and love your brothers.
You do that wherever you are.
A solemn day. As we remember what was taken, what was offered up and sacrificed, what was given freely, what was left on the battlefield, what was brought home. What is still…ongoing.
You were born for this day. Men and women called to the brotherhood, called to rise up and respond with violence so the rest could remain intact.
We focus on what was lost and sacrificed AND we must focus on what, in turn, was gained: souls who know that life is worth defending, a brother’s blood is worth a thousand sleepless nights, ignorance of war at home is worth the inability to forget what you have learned.
Mourn and be grateful today. Only a few who ever walk this earth are entrusted with the ability to carry what you carry. Your truths divide you inside and they make you whole.
Be wholehearted, my warriors. Fight on.
Q: What do you believe plays the biggest role in healing?
Grace. The warrior’s instinct is to fight, to just be stronger, apply more force. Most of the time on the battlefield this is what works. Most of the time at home, this works. Because these struggles are very real battles; they take place now in the mind and spirit. Fighting is necessary. Yet, when it comes to healing, you have to balance that instinctive need to act with more force with a need to allow. Healing happens when we allow it, create the conditions for it, and fight the pain and frustration and temptation to give up during the process. But what the soul longs for is grace.
Before I talk about grace, we have to define healing. Most people define it as a return to how things used to be. They want to be unchanged. They see themselves angry, isolating, pushing loved ones away — and they think “if I can just be like how I used to be” everything will be fine. What they are actually craving is a sense of connection with the softer, gentler, more open parts of their souls. Healing is never about going backwards to what used to be. It is always about new growth. It is about becoming. And ultimately, about reconnecting to a sense that you belong in the human family.
Grace is what the soul longs for, when we get ourselves in these terribly complicated webs of inner shame, regret, anger, when we lose control over our emotions, when we grieve and grieve and grieve the ones we lost, and the parts of us that died with them… it’s grace the soul longs for. And by grace, I mean the sense of absolute acceptance that respects all of who you are, knows all of what you’ve done and witnessed, and still says: you belong.
Who gives us this grace? Christians will tell you God. But I think grace is something we give ourselves and each other.
Q: What is the hardest part for you in the role you play in helping warriors heal?
Sustaining my own belief — in the face of the enormity of the pain my warriors are experiencing. Talking bone-weary men back into battle when my own heart trembles with doubt. Knowing that sometimes, in that moment, I am the only thing standing between life and death. It’s incredibly humbling and shakes me to the core to see, time and again, the divine timing in how someone “just happens” to see an article I read and reaches out and connects — I mean, what are the chances? I believe that every soul led specifically to me is meant to find me. I don’t have magic cures, but I trust that they are talking with me because I am the one they need to talk with at that precise moment in their journey. I trust that implicitly.
And believe me, the joy and fulfillment of serving in this role in this lifetime is beyond compare. This calling is why I am on this earth this time. It is life-giving to me, even in the hardest moments, it is deeply personal for my soul.
Q: If you could sit and talk quietly with a struggling combat veteran, what would you most want that soul to know?
That he’s not alone in what he’s experiencing. That sense of isolation is pervasive and it kills people. It keeps people from letting others know they are struggling. I hear the same stories, the same symptoms, the same desperation, the same plea for help, the same fear that they are “not normal” — over and over and over from almost every single combat vet I know. If I could just put them all in one room, they would find out every single combat vet they know is going through the same silent suffering. Just knowing others are going through the same experiences helps people feel connected and gives them back a sense of power. “If others I know and respect and love are feeling this way too, then maybe I’m not so abnormal/weak/weird/loser and maybe I can actually find a way to get better. Maybe this is manageable if it’s common. Maybe getting help is okay if others are dealing with this, too.”
Q: How has this journey changed you?
It continually heals me. I came into this lifetime with this calling. It was always what I was destined to do. I fought it for a while because I got scared — scared that I didn’t have the right to do this work, scared of being responsible for leading people’s souls. For awhile in the beginning, I wasn’t sure if I could do it. But while fear shouted at me, there was one Marine I was seeing progress with, and all I could think was: “what’s going to happen to him — and all the others like him, if I say no?” I said Yes. It has awakened me to my Self, and stretched my capacity for belief in what’s possible. But mostly, it heals me.
How do you keep going when the battles are drawn out, each day feels pointless, and you are so, so tired? When the darkness feels never-ending and nothing seems to get better? How do you keep picking yourself up off the ground, and talk yourself out of fear and back into battle?
How do you fight for You?
The ability to keep going comes down to one thing: you have to resolve inside yourself that giving up or staying this way is not an option.
It has to be the undercurrent pulling you toward Life. And to get in the flow of that undercurrent, you have to surrender to your soul’s instinct to Live, to Grow, to Shed What No Longer Works or Supports You, to Transform, to find New Ways of Being.
You have to be willing to let those parts of you that are keeping you stuck, die.
You have to be willing to say “I don’t know the fuck where I am or how I am going to get there, but I am going to find a way to Live.”
And you have to mean it.
We discredit the power of decision. And we underestimate the power that comes from making a conscious, intentional decision.
We have, overall, as a society, dismissed the strength of willpower. Perhaps because we don’t like to face our own power, because if we face our power, we’re responsible to manage it in our lives. Perhaps also because there are some things that willpower can’t change, and willpower has gotten a bad rap for being a “quick answer” to dismiss the depth of someone’s situation.
But what if, we have more power than we think we do?
What if by making a true decision, one you feel all the way in your gut, one your whole being commits to… resolve…. we can change a great many things? What if instead of waking up feeling like life sucks and there’s no reason to get up, we could make a decision to fight for the day, to fight those negative thoughts, to say NO to them. And what if, by the power of your will to direct your thoughts and focus on something positive (like all the things you have to be grateful for in this very moment while life sucks), you begin to change?
Now, I realize that to get to that point you might need medication, you might need counseling, you might need to read an article like this that presents you with a new way of thinking…. but eventually, the only one who can decide how the life is going to be is YOU.
Decide. Not just wake up and see what life brings. Not just wake up and see how other people disappoint you again. Not just wake up and expect more misery and feel worse and worse.
But decide. Decide that you’ve had enough. That your repetitive negative thoughts have had way too much control over how your life feels now. That PTSD, depression, anxiety — are part of who you are, but they DON’T GET TO DEFINE WHO YOU ARE.
We waste years giving up our power because we don’t realize that we actually have the power to decide how we will be. Or what our mindset and attitude and perspective on life and on life WITH PTSD, depression, anxiety will be.
I am NOT being dismissive of how these diagnoses impact you, or of the fact that they make it very hard to think differently, or feel differently.
BUT, I am saying that there comes a point where you either let these diagnoses swallow you whole and control your entire experience of life — OR you take back your willpower and decide to control what you can. And what you can control is a decision to let these things defeat you and make you an utterly miserable person, or to accept these things as part of who you are, but to find every possible way to live your best life anyway.
That may mean going after alternative therapies. That may mean learning about new perspectives on life. That may mean finding religion. That may mean looking for every type of therapy, treatment, philosophy, spiritual practice until you find one that shifts your perspective toward Life.
What it will always mean is that you have to give up your identity as someone who has no power.
You have to give up your beliefs that life sucks, you’re doomed, nothing will ever change, people just hurt you, you are just stuck with this shitty life. You have to give up your beliefs that your diagnosis gives you an excuse to act like an asshole, or treat people like shit, or destroy everything in your path. (Yes, I know you have rage and anger to deal with, but you are responsible to find ways to deal with it — and there is help out there and there is a part of you that can resolve to find a way to heal the anger.)
You have to own your life and take back your power to change how you think.
There are so many resources out there. Books, speakers, spirit/mind/body leaders, people who can teach you how to see your Self, suffering, death, life, beauty, grief, joy, love differently. People who can teach you how to take what life has delivered to you, and change your attitude and outlook so that you aren’t controlled by the anger and bitterness and negative perspectives.
But none of this can happen unless you DECIDE that you are going to do whatever it takes to find it.
All it takes for change is one thought that you’ve never had before.
Just one thought.
Start reading and listening to authors like Mike Dooley, Mark Nepo, Wayne Dyer, Rob Bell. Start feeding your mind with thoughts you’ve never had before.
Make a decision to reclaim your life and then go out and do what it takes to do it. Yes, it may be slow. Yes, it may take time. Yes, it may feel as if you get knocked down and have to pick yourself up again… but you keep going.
You can’t change your diagnosis or what you have suffered; you can change whether or not it will define you or whether you will define your life.
It’s your choice. Until you realize that deep down within you, everything outside of you will control you and swallow you whole.
Only you can allow that to happen.
It’s that heaviness deep in your chest. That gaping void where part of who you were before is permanently gone. It’s the sense of having done things that can never be undone, a burden of being responsible for having taken life and for having lost it. A burden you know is yours to carry.
It’s being moved to tears by songs that invite you to grace and mercy because you know in your heart that for some reason it doesn’t apply to you. Grace and mercy? You want to believe, but they feel as if they’re for others. Not for you. For your brothers, for your family. Not you.
And your heart aches and contracts and your chest caves in on itself, your breath catches in a prayer you can barely whisper. You want to, but you don’t believe in redemption, even though it calls to you, like a far away home you can hardly remember. You feel as if you’re standing outside the circle, watching all the innocent ones, the ones who haven’t destroyed and killed, the…Others…receiving grace and forgiveness. Accepted. You know deep down you will never belong. You are… marked. The spiritual repercussion of being a warfighter.
It eats at you. Oh, not the killing. At least, not the ones that were justified. No, the decisions under fire, the split-second hesitations, the choice to go down one road instead of another. The feeling in your gut that warned you, but you weren’t in a position to heed it. Or you were, and you didn’t. And now they are dead.
Men you loved. Men who loved you. Men who died for you and with you and for whom you would have died. But you didn’t. And you’re pretty sure you should have. You would now if it would bring them back.
It gnaws in your stomach, replays in your mind, haunts your nightmares. Sits in you. And you move through your days forced to live with the knowing, with the overwhelming sense that there is nothing you could ever do that will ever unmark you. Ever undo what happened.
You move through your days held by the underlying certainty that you can’t belong. Always, standing outside that circle. Believers of all faiths invite you to step into their circles of salvation. But grace feels like a fantasy, like a far off wish that is fine for others, just not possible for you. At least, that’s what runs through your mind.
It’s that sense that you don’t deserve real love, real goodness, real joy, to have what your heart wants most in this life because you’re responsible for more destruction and devastation on this earth than anyone knows. So you just stand there, on the hillside, outside the circle… with your fellow warriors. And you watch the Innocents get the joy and love they deserve. And you’re glad they do. But your eyes fill with tears for the longing to belong and the seeming truth that you never will.
This is your reality. You’re strong. You’re a soul of courage. You know how to carry your own shit and it’s yours to carry. You know all the explanations and comforting words that your wisdom reminds you of. The chaos of war. The chain of command. The fractured nature of time in combat. The possibility of death even if you did it all right. The randomness that played into it all. You know good men die in war. You know that you did a hell of a job. You know you would do it all again. Even now. Knowing how it hurts. You’d do it all again. It’s who you are.
You stand among men who are rare on this earth. Those brave enough and human enough to deliver death and endure life. You can’t undo what has been done. It IS your burden to carry. But it’s not yours alone. Your brothers stand with you. Those who shoulder the weight of being the only group of souls on earth condoned to take life and heralded as heroes for doing so.
“Some things can’t be fixed, they can only be carried.” I read that recently.
The hell of combat lies in the silent aftermath. In the second-guessing one’s decisions. In the very real weight upon your soul that bears actual responsibility for the loss of human life. It is in what you should have done, what you couldn’t do, in the reality of your actions. In the unchangeability of what you did or didn’t do.
I don’t have an answer for you in this. I can only shoulder it with you. Perhaps redemption is found in the choices we make now, going forward, in choosing to remember and live with a sanctity of life, in giving back, in finding ways to be more truly alive. Perhaps there is redemption for you in a religion that makes sense to you. Perhaps there is redemption in choosing to let love break you open and risk feeling again.
I don’t know. I seek an answer as much as you do. What I do know is that the pain is real, the ache hurts, the sense of carrying something that only a few ever have to carry on this earth and even fewer will ever understand is sometimes overwhelming and always there. Underneath it all.
I do know that you are beautiful in your brokenness. You are beautiful in your pain. You are beautiful in your courage to be a soul who carries this weight. I know your heart is good and you are loveable. I know your heart has done dark things you have never told anyone. I know that sometimes all you can do is let the tears rise and fall, to make the pain just a bit more bearable, than gather your strength, get up and carry on. I know that you may be shut down and so numb that nothing touches you anymore.
I know that you are loved by those who understand you and by those who don’t. You are here for a reason and while the weight on your soul is so heavy, you have the strength and fortitude to bear it. And when you stumble to the ground under the heaviness, the rest of us will be here to kneel with you, give you water, wipe your tears, and hold courage for you while you find yours again. And when you are exhausted and can’t get up, we’ll carry you.
The spiritual burdens of combat are hard. There’s nothing easy about this. Few are willing to even address this issue. But I refuse to believe that there is no hope for less pain, for different perspectives, for wounds to heal. I also believe you find courage by facing truth in the face. Trying to make this less difficult only denies the reality of how complex and real this issue is. I will continue to go into this dark cave until my eyes adjust to the dark and I can see what my soul needs to see.
We may be outside the circle, but we’re here together.
I’m peeling back a layer here to go deeper into some of the issues close to heart. Why? Because the things I discuss with combat veterans are deeply personal, deeply human, and deeply spiritual to warfighters in nature. Not religious. Spiritual. Pretty much every topic I discuss can be tied back to spirit. So, let’s explore.
Q: You talk about warfighting being a “spiritual calling.” What do you mean by that?
I believe we are eternal beings of Love and Power. I believe we chose our lifetimes before we come to this earth, including our date and manner of death, and that when we die, we return to the Spirit World, but remain conscious of all of who we are and all of what we’ve experienced. We return to our purer innate essence of full Love and full Power. We come here to learn, to explore, to experience our Selves in ways not possible in the Spirit World. I don’t believe in hell or sin, in the sense of “separation from God” – because I believe we are all divine and you cannot separate us from the Divine anymore than you can separate hydrogen from oxygen and still have water.
So, when I say that being a warfighter is a spiritual calling, I mean that while you’re still in the Spirit Realm, you choose and accept to carry the weight and responsibility of being a death-bearer. Not all combat veterans are warfighters, not all combat veterans carry the spiritual calling. But those who do, know it deep down in their soul dna. Being a warfighter is who they are. It’s what feels the most natural to them, and while they can and do certainly live in peace among civilians, most always have a sense of “being among but not one of.” Something’s always off just a bit, missing. You’re never quite home.
In an unholy sense, think of a lifetime like a video game. You choose your role, understand the risks, don’t know what’s going to happen next, can choose to end the game early, and overall, do your best to complete all the missions and rank up or die trying. Now, obviously, life is far more sacred than this, but it gives you a context to consider. It also returns you to a sense of your own power in choosing this lifetime and that is absolutely critical to your future.
Q: So, if you carry this spiritual calling, then what?
Accepting and seeing it as a spiritual calling gives you ground to stand on, or fall on when it gets too heavy. Warfighters (warriors) have always spent more time out of combat than in it. For the most part, they have always had to find ways to endure peace. Bearing the responsibility to be the one who sends others back to the Spirit World is a sacred and heavy trust. It’s not one any true warrior takes for granted, it sits in your chest, it changes and shapes you, it lasts across lifetimes. It creates a sense of sin and pleasure, it is a position of power and grace. It makes you more deeply aware of the value of life, and strips away the lies, falsehoods, and illusions we humans use to deny ourselves the right to truly, deeply live. This is one reason why warfighters often struggle with feeling more alive when the Energy of Death is near. Because Death is real. And its presence, its energy, makes Life real. We often assume we are numbing out to avoid pain, when we’re actually numbing out to avoid our present life because a life that can’t be lived as real as we know it can be… feels depressing and void and pointless. (Until you learn to see with a different perspective, and you absolutely can do that.)
Q: What about the lust to kill?
It is in the nature of a true warrior to feel pleasure in killing an enemy. Even when the “enemy” gets broadened to define anyone who might put one’s self or fellow warriors in harm. The lust to kill is sometimes an actual lust, but often it’s that sense of exacting power and the satisfaction from defeating a worthy opponent. The satisfaction is not the same when the kill is too easy or the enemy not equal enough to you. When it’s unequal, you can start to feel guilt or a sense of shame (even if the fight was still just). Our modern world has lost the ability to see the appetites of the warfighter as natural. Now, does that mean you can just go out in the civilian world and do violence? Hell no. Being a warfighter is all about containing and controlling power, mastering it so that you are able to be the dark and the light. Kind, gentle, passionate, tender, respectful when appropriate. Lethal, dark, vengeful and vicious when appropriate. You are not “two different people” — but rather, a more whole one.
Q: You don’t believe in sin and yet, so many feel shame and guilt and deep remorse for things they’ve done and experienced. Does it ever go away?
No. It doesn’t. There are things we justify within ourselves, mostly destroying in order to defend and protect fellow warfighters or the innocent. And there are things you never get over. Not in this lifetime. Not in the next. (Because it’s all ONE Life, just different lifetimes. You remain You.) If there is no external “God” waiting to judge us, and if we are the very essence of Love and Power… then our sense of shame and guilt comes from believing that what we have done was wrong and should not have happened. There are some things we will always know in our soul dna that are irrefutably wrong. And when we violate those instinctive beliefs, it does something to us deep down. People like to call it “moral injury” now… and in a sense, it is an injury to our sense of morality. But more often than not, it’s a sense that we have violated an instinctive spiritual code among human beings. And so, we have to look at the bigger picture of this lifetime (and sometimes past lifetimes) to see how our actions are part of the bigger story of Us. And ultimately, look at how can we make choices NOW to impact the story. Because while past actions have consequences, so do your current ones. And some of the greatest love and goodness expressed in this world has come from those who chose to choose Life after they had previously chosen destruction.
Civilians thinks warfighters feel guilt over killing. Period. That’s not true. You may, but most often, it’s guilt over violating the Code. Some of the deepest wounds come from not having been able to save your own brothers (or sisters) in battle. From a personal sense of “your best not having been your best” because someone you loved died at the end. Even though you know, logically, that you truly did your best in that time and place. And sometimes, you know you didn’t do your best. You made a mistake. You let yourself get distracted. You failed to find the courage you needed. Tiredness and a depleted body made you fight just a little less harder than you would have otherwise. In other words, you were a human being being a human while in battle. So much is entirely out of our control and yet, the brain will gnaw at your wound with “if only I had” or “I should have” or “did I make the right decision?” until the pain is so great you shut down that part of you that feels anything or you think killing yourself is the only way to end spiritual pain. (It’s not, often being able to tell your story to someone who will hold it sacred is enough to begin to lessen its pain and help you find a way to carry it.)
What it comes down to, is that guilt comes from love. A general love for humanity (at least those we deem innocent among us) or from personal, relational love — the kind warriors have for one another. You break the spiritual Code and you are going to feel the weight and pain of it. But that doesn’t mean it needs to destroy you. You have choices. One of them is to accept your own humanity, to accept what happened and to let the pain you must endure help you make choices during peace that build life, that honor life, that teach others the value of life. And you can do that WHILE remaining a warrior. Again, contain the dark and the light. Wholeness.
Q: That sounds overly simple.
There’s nothing simple about it. You have to choose the courage to carry the weight on your soul, to own who you are in this world, in this lifetime. But the pain and sense of remorse, the tears that well up just thinking about it, the sense of a hole in your chest that nothing can fill because what happened has taken that part of you and it’s just gone — that’s reality. I think we confuse “healing” with “take away all the impact of trauma and combat from me and make me how I used to be.” And that’s what many warriors come to me hoping for.
That’s not what it’s all about. Healing is a natural process that restores life to our cells, and our Aliveness over time, when the conditions for it are supported, allowed, and chosen. But healing does not erase scars, does not regrow limbs, does not take the ache out of you that comes from the trauma, does not revert you at all to who you used to be. Healing moves you forward. You BECOME who you are not yet. Healing is a necessary part of being a warfighter, but it does not alleviate you from the weight and responsibility of being a warfighter. Nor does it change who you are. It may change your way of being and relating in this world when combat is no longer an option for you.
So, while healing is very much what I am here to help guide warfighters to experience, at the same time, it’s more like I have this virtual camp. When warfighters are in my camp, they have a safe place to rest, to let their guard down, to feel protected in spirit, to refind their strength and refind their courage. It’s about living as a combat veteran and warfighter. Living the best life you can with the wounds and losses, with the scars and pain, with everything in you….allowing and choosing to carry the weight you have been so sacredly entrusted with in this lifetime, and often in past lifetimes as well. It’s tough, but you wouldn’t have chosen this lifetime and still be here if you weren’t going to be given the resources and strength and choices to grow and continue on your journey as a human being.