Diogenes
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Poetry
Apr 2, 2016 20:35:37 GMT -8
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Post by Diogenes on Apr 2, 2016 20:35:37 GMT -8
I thought of this poem while Jocko and Echo were discussing courage in the battlefield, and the difference between the kind of courage in which action is taken despite fear, and the kind that allows a person to face danger without fear. Is the latter motivated by love, as Anne Sexton mentions in this poem?
"Courage" Anne Sexton
It is in the small things we see it. The child's first step, as awesome as an earthquake. The first time you rode a bike, wallowing up the sidewalk. The first spanking when your heart went on a journey all alone. When they called you crybaby or poor or fatty or crazy and made you into an alien, you drank their acid and concealed it.
Later, if you faced the death of bombs and bullets you did not do it with a banner, you did it with only a hat to cover your heart. You did not fondle the weakness inside you though it was there. Your courage was a small coal that you kept swallowing. If your buddy saved you and died himself in so doing, then his courage was not courage, it was love; love as simple as shaving soap.
Later, if you have endured a great despair, then you did it alone, getting a transfusion from the fire, picking the scabs off your heart, then wringing it out like a sock. Next, my kinsman, you powdered your sorrow, you gave it a back rub and then you covered it with a blanket and after it had slept a while it woke to the wings of the roses and was transformed.
Later, when you face old age and its natural conclusion your courage will still be shown in the little ways, each spring will be a sword you'll sharpen, those you love will live in a fever of love, and you'll bargain with the calendar and at the last moment when death opens the back door you'll put on your carpet slippers and stride out.
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dainmiller
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Apr 3, 2016 21:52:28 GMT -8
Post by dainmiller on Apr 3, 2016 21:52:28 GMT -8
Thanks for sharing this. It was great.
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Diogenes
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Apr 3, 2016 22:39:46 GMT -8
Post by Diogenes on Apr 3, 2016 22:39:46 GMT -8
Thanks. It'd be cool to always find a poem that distills into simple and interesting language various ideas discussed in Jocko's podcast. I'm not overly familiar with the war poets, but it'd be interesting to research if the good ones are not too hard to find.
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Diogenes
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Post by Diogenes on Apr 4, 2016 19:55:19 GMT -8
At the very end of the 2nd Jocko Podcast, at around time 2:01:00, Jocko says "to go, and do" in a way that reminds me of the last line of Ulysses by Alfred, Lord Tennyson: "To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." I especially like the last few lines of that poem because it is taking me a long time to create a life for myself that's conducive to learning and exercise, wishing I had been wise enough to know how to live at age 18, rather than at age 40 (for me, similar to Ulysses, that involves severing relationships that distract me from my goals, and welcoming only relationships with those who inspire me, at least while I am focused on making myself stronger): "Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho' We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." Full poem: Ulysses
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jd
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May 5, 2016 19:56:18 GMT -8
Post by jd on May 5, 2016 19:56:18 GMT -8
" ON COMBAT" by LT. COL. Dave Grossman with Loren W. Christensen
(end of book)
The Final Inspection:
The warrior stood and faced God; which will always come to pass He hoped his shoes were shining, just as brightly as his brass
Step forward now old warrior; how shall I deal with you Have you always turned the other cheek; to my church, have you been true
The warrior squared his shoulders and said.. No Lord I guess I ain’t. Cuz those of us who carry guns can’t always be a saint
I’ve had to work most Sundays; and at times my talk was tough And sometimes I’ve been violent; Cuz the world is awfully rough
But I never took a penny that wasn’t mine to keep Though, I worked a lot of overtime, when the bills got just too steep
And I never passed a cry for help, though at times I shook with fear And sometimes GOD forgive me; I’ve wept unmanly tears
And now I don’t deserve a place among the people here They never wanted me around; except to calm their fears
If you have a place for me here lord; It need not be so grand In life I didn’t expect or need so much; so if you don’t; I’ll understand
There was a silence all around the throne.. For the Saints have often trod As the warrior stood quietly; for the judgement of his god
Step forward now my warrior; you bore your burdens well Walk peacefully upon heaven’s streets; you’ve done your time in hell
----- Anonymous
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