Q-BLOG#4, 2000 years of...

Yesterday was an eerily quiet day. Everything was closed here. No DFAC, no MWR (Morale, Welfare, Recreation) gym’s, TV rooms or Internet café’s were open. It was like a ghost town. We only worked a 10 hour day yesterday. There are still many things to do. I’m attaching a sort of out line of where we are located in/near Baghdad to give everyone a point of reference. I dare not give out more information than that. We are not in the international zone. This is where much of what you see on TV is going on. In one of our military briefings we learn why we get more mortars, car bombs outside the gates and missile launches during the morning. It will make it back to the East coast in time for the news. We like to blame the media for these things. I like to call it “the Wal-Mart Phenomena”. What is the Wal-Mart phenomena you ask?

It is where we go to Wal-Mart for the lowest price we can get. We don’t really care where anything is made or how it comes to be there, we just want the lowest price. Yet, we want high wages. Wal-Mart is serving our want, and so they go off shore to get the products so that we can have them at a low price. The jobs we had then go to another nation that does not have the high wages we do. Then we blame the government for not doing enough to keep jobs in this country. So television news is the same. They are only feeding us what we want, trying to drive up demand for their channel by providing us more of what we want. Hmmm. The old saying, “Be careful what you ask for…” comes to mind.

We did hear about the US Embassy being hit. Many car bombs could be heard and felt in the distance. Today will prove to be a much more active day.

In the quiet time that I did have last night, just as I began to doze off to sleep to music by SEAL, a song game on that suddenly prompted the words below. I had not intended on writing another Blog until next week, but, if you know me well, when words start going through my head, I can’t really stop it. This was so powerful to me that I felt moved to share.

2000 YEARS OF…

We keep 2000 years ago through
What we think is love…
But manifests itself into hate
A man born of divinity
Died at the hands of humanity
They say to save us, to give us new life.
But today, 2000 years later
We point the blame, kill and defame
Those that were saved by the grace of divinity.
If we left that 2000 year history alone
And began a life anew
Would we still hate, still defame, still blame?
Look around at the beauty we have
It’s in books, music, fad and art
In all the goodness we’ve hidden deep within our hearts.
Did divinity and grace end
2000 years ago at a cross
From a man who we say died to save us?
Did humanity create a history
For divinity or for
The justification of cruelty?
Wars, prejudice, judging enslaving…
Surely these were not the things
A man would die for…give up his life for?
Love one another…
Is the voice I hear still
In my heart and in my soul.
Not, Love another ONLY if,
They’re not gay, or black or yellow
Or female or foreign or poor.
Love One Another….
Bring one and all to the table.
For we are all sinners and all are forgiven
Not just the wealthy (countries too!),
The fare looking, the thin or tall,
But ALL of God’s children, one and all.
We keep 2000 years of history
And change it in our soul’s memory
Interpreting Love into Hate.
Translating that which serves us
Forgetting the ALL that we say
Is the reason for the Cross and the fall.
Suffer we must, the greater our trust
That all we have created
Will help us achieve a place in heaven
So when a person speaks…
And the words he speaks
Begin to exclude,
Then you must know from the bottom of your heart,
And the depth of your soul
That he speaks no truth…
Because only those who dare to speak,
…to include all the parts of humanity
Can begin to speak the truth of divinity
Not just Jew or Gentile, but Palestinians too,
And all those who hate you,
Because you have hated them too.
And people who hurt you?
Love them any way. Keep your distance,
Let them think about their deed another day.
Love is the only thing
That fear is afraid of.
So let’s make fear afraid today.
But we’ve forgotten
The most important words
The ones we’re afraid of.
The word’s you would think
Our ear’s, our hearts
Our mind’s have never heard.
LOVE ONE ANOTHER
One and All
This is the message my Brother and Sister
LOVE ONE ANOTHER
AS I HAVE LOVED YOU.
PERIOD.


Remember Love, not Fear.

Robert

Q-BLOG#3, Morning has broken...

Morning has broken with a thundering boom, shaking us awake. Today is the 27th of January. Elections in Iraq will take place this weekend and the powers that be anticipate increased violence. At the DFAC (Dining Facility) CNN is on and we learn that 37 soldiers were killed yesterday. There was also a train derailment in Glendale, California, 11 were found dead so far. In trying to locate an order from a local vendor in Kuwait, we discovered that the load of merchandise was involved in an incident. The driver, a TCN (Third Country National) was killed and the merchandise was destroyed when the convoy he was in was attacked.

As I was watching the news this morning in the DFAC, a soldier, tall, handsome, more age on his face then he should have at his young age, stood in front of me adjusting his vest. His flak (armored) vest. It looked heavy. I’ve got one. I know how heavy it is. At least 40lbs. He had more than the vest though. He had rounds of ammunition all around the front of the vest. His machine gun. His helmet. His goggles. He is stopping by for some breakfast before he goes out on patrol. He is most likely the gunner on top of one of the many HUMVEE’s equipped with extra armor and an opening for a gunner on top. Maybe he is guarding or leading a convoy. I don’t know. I stared at him. Tears welling up in my eyes because the thought of this being his last meal crept into my thoughts. This breakfast. Loaded into a Styrofoam container. I looked at everyone around him. No one took notice of him. Everyone was watching the news. He paid it no mind. He adjusted his gear. Aware that he might be blocking the view of someone who wanted to watch the news, he knelt down to grab his machine gun, then put the helmet on his head. I don’t even remember him leaving. In my minds eye he is still there, making the adjustments. I can’t even imagine what his thoughts were as he stood there. Was it simply to get his food, adjust his vest, grab his machine gun, put on his helmet and without much more thought, get in his vehicle and go to “work”? It makes me think of the many times I’ve done just that. Get into my routine and not think about what I was doing, where I was going, why I was going there. In one way I can’t imagine that he did this. In another way I can’t imagine that he did anything else than that. How else could he put himself out there. It’s why he wasn’t paying attention…or trying not to pay attention to the news. It would only remind him of what his “work” was.

I find myself sitting here now, writing this and not knowing really how to feel. I’m crying a bit. I wonder what was the last meal of those 37 soldiers who died yesterday? Or those 11 people in the train derailment in Glendale? The driver of the truck that was killed trying to bring merchandise to our stores, what was his last meal? Which meal will be my last? Which meal will be your last? I’m sad for the soldier I saw in the DFAC and for all the soldiers that are here. I am sad for the driver and the people in the train derailment. I’m sad for the people I see toiling through the day for $8 in wages.

I look around and I see mud everywhere. They tell me that before we got here, the area was beautiful and green. I imagine that it looked like the area around DFW or the Trinity River after a rain. Green. Lush. That is not what it is now. It is brown. Muddy. I look out my window and there are bars there. Beyond the bars is a cement barrier about 7’ high. Protective barriers from incoming mortars. I’m confused for a moment, because in some ways it feels like a prison. I’m learning though , that as with most things in life, perspective is key. I tend to perceive the world in the way that I am feeling about myself. I’ve created many prisons for myself in the past, but this is not one of them. I’ve come here to escape. It’s a physical manifestation of my internal desire. This is not a prison. This is a sanctuary. For me, this is a sanctuary. (The voice of the Hunchback of Notre Dame comes to my head immediately!)

I have to look up….at the sky. There is beauty there. From the horizon to the place where the sun has now risen, beauty displays itself. It is a beautiful light blue running to blue and BLUE. It reminds me of a poem I wrote not too long ago and shared with my UPPER ROOM family. I thank my dear friend and artist extraordinaire, Jim Frederick for introducing me to THE UPPER ROOM and Wauketa and Terrie for sponsoring the once a month event in Frisco. It has been a place where I have felt comfortable enough to share my poetry with others. It has given me the confidence to share these things with you.

Blue blew by me.

Swimming!
Flying!
in my world of blue and
Sky and Sea...
Breathing all the blue...
I see it all
Almost absentmindedly.
A wave comes by...
A strong wind blows...
And I simply wave in on.
My life it seems,
Is filled with the scenes
that I’ve chosen before I cried.
Time flew by...
And change crept in.
The blue turned grey in
Sea and Sky...
All I learned
was polluted,
convoluted.
Trash and Oil
and 5th avenue trappings
Changed my view...
My swim...
My flapping.
I’m lost in my pit of pollution,
Looking for a better solution...
Seeking....
Looking for the blue I’ve lost...
Wanting to breathe the
Wet Blue Water...
The Clear Blue Sky...
To catch & conquer...
The deep depths of my sigh.
Singing Blue...
Crying Grey,
I’m walking and drifting another way.
Hold me fast-
Push me slow...
...but please
Don’t ever…
Let me go...


Blessings and Peace! …and LOVE…always remember to Love, especially yourself!

Robert

Q-BLOG #2

My second in a series…of Q-Blogs. What are Q-Blogs? My friend Julia Wertley-Rotenberry came up with the idea. She thought I ought to title my updates as something other than updates. “Q” is what she named me on a trip to Italy we took. The name stuck and so I’m “Q” to all who were on that trip. So now you have Q-Blogs.

It’s 6:00 am Baghdad time. Saturday, January 22, 2005. It’s raining outside. You can hear the rain hit the tin roof of our office. I close my eyes and I take a small trip. A fantasy vacation. Not away from this place, but to a different time. Maybe it is a different dimension, because there is peace in the world. There is peace in my heart.

I’d like to share something that was sent to me prior to my leaving Dallas. I read it there and knew I needed to print it and take it with me. It is the Lord’s Prayer, translated from it’s original Aramaic. I received this from interfaithdfw@aol.com. This is the DFW Interfaith Network, an organization I was once involved with and hope to be again in the future. Thank you Tom Cartwright for re-connecting me with them this year.

THE LORD’S PRAYER, Translated from it’s original Aramaic.

“Oh Cosmic Birther (sp?) of all radiance and vibration!
Soften the ground of our being and carve out a space within us,
…where your presence can abide.

Fill us with your creativity so that we may be empowered
…to bear the fruit of our mission.

Let each of our actions bear fruit in accordance with our desire.

Endow us with the wisdom to produce and share what each being needs
…to grow and flourish.

Unite the tangled threads of destiny that bind us,
…as we release others from the entanglement of past mistakes.

Do not let us be seduced by that which would divert us from our true purpose,
…but illuminate the opportunities of the present moment.

For you are the ground and the fruitful vision,
…the birth power and the fulfillment,
…as all is gathered and made whole once again.


I begin this way in order that I might have some peace and calm. It’s been a very trying week. I’ve been very angry this week. I have written and re-written several updates, but each was filled with my anger. The war. The inauguration. So many other things that are out of my control. As I re-read my anger on the page (several times I might add) I began to realize that my anger was nothing more than fear. So I’m trying to let that go.

We have a staff meeting here every other day. It is needed. We go around the table and provide an update of what’s going on in each of our areas. There are personnel issues, logisitics issues, services issues, buying issues. Then Major Accetta gives his report. He talks about the number of mortars that have hit. The number of IED’s that went off or were found, car bombs, the number of civilian, military and Iraqi casualties. The room becomes very somber. Perspective sets in and you realize, as my good friend Mat Dromey says, “It’s just merchandise”. Which leads me to the question below. I’d like each of you to take a moment and find your answer on the list.

How much is a human life worth?
$8.00 a day ?
A truck load of retail merchandise (value, $8-80,000) ?
A pallet of dog food ($1200) ?
A War ?
A new fast food operation opening.?
A new PC compatible projector ?
Closing the stores in Iraq for 3 days?

Why these questions? Each of them has to do with something we here in Iraq have had to answer to Dallas or Europe as to why we either did not have something completed, or why something was going to happen. Or why we are even here (d). My answer is not on the list.

One of our people, trying to do his job, was pushing to get a trailer of potato chips on a military convey to get to some of the Marine sites north of Baghdad. This was important to AAFES. Chips have a short shelf life and by god, those Marines deserve to have potato chips. That is our mission! The military commander in charge responded with the question, “ Is the life of one soldier worth that truck of potato chips?”

We as human beings get insulated from what is truly going on in the world. We focus on what is before our eyes and can see no more. We tune everything else out. I know this. This is my second week here. At 4:00am every morning the tanks RUMBLE by and the Blackhawks fly over my quarters. You hear the Humvee’s gurgling by. The morning patrol. I don’t hear them anymore. I heard them this morning because of the rain. I had not yet heard rain hit my roof. The rain woke me. Then came the tanks and the blackhawks and the humvees. It was the gentle patter of rain that woke me.

And so I got up and put my anger aside. Put my fear aside and let the rain gently calm me. The Lord’s prayer came to mind. I knew that is how I would begin. Calm. In prayer. Not focused on a task, but focused on the world to complete my task. Not the world, AMERICA, but the WORLD. The planet. EARTH. And Me. I cannot do anything right, unless I am right with myself. I encourage you to read a journal entry from a friend of mine, Steve Reedy. I’ve not known Steve long, but I find him to be an incredible spirit. His website is: http://www.renewed-spirit.com/main.htm . His journal is something I have wanted to read, but never took the time. I printed it and read it this week. There is a reason his web site is “renewed-spirit”.

The journey continues both inside and outside of myself. Yes, we have mortars coming in every day. You hear Blackhawks, Howitzers, Tanks, Humvee’s and all sorts of other vehicles. You tune a lot of it out. Yesterday was a bit more disturbing. I was holding a meeting with my team and we were continually interrupted by huge bursts of mortar’s and then the KABAM of the Howitzers. One right after the other. BOOM! BOOM! KABAM! KABAM! KABAM! BOOM! The trailer shook. I tried to act like nothing was happening, but I found myself on the verge of tears and laughter. It was such an unreal situation. You really cannot imagine. I wrote this poem.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Sounds after the mortars fly,
KABAM! KABAM! KABAM! woo! woo! woo!
Is the Howitzer’s reply.
Shake, Rattle, Roll,
Be like a turtle, cover, duck and roll!
Suddenly the Blackhawks are in the sky,
And the Fire Engines sirens cry.
Life is normal here at Camp Liberty.
Where all the soldiers are just beyond puberty.
I’ve been here a week,
But it feels like a year
Maybe it because,
We can have no beer!
No beer, no porn, no drugs!
It’s the new health care plug!
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
KABAM! KABAM! KABAM! woo! woo! woo!
Siren’s and lights and shopping abound.

It’s jut another day at Camp Liberty.

I bring this Blog to a close with a song I recently listened to from an Artist I had not heard in a long time. Synchronicity is beginning to happen in my life again. Maybe I am only more aware of it now. This is the Human Spark, written by Michael W. Smith.

“God, for the life of me/ I don’t know why/ We hurt each other/ In the name of what is right/ Oh what we think is right/ God, for the life of me/ I don’t understand/ Echos every day of man’s/ Inhumanity to man/ Man’s inhumanity to man/ There’s a river of sorrow/ Running thru my heart/ Thru the long night I will follow/ The glimmer in the dark/ Lord, You are the human spark/ God, for the life of me/ I cannot explain/ How people born of love/ Lose their way to hate/ Oh there’s got to be a better way.”

Be a SPARK in someone’s life today. There is a whole lot of darkness out there, so help light someone’s way, even if it is just for a day.

Blessings to each of you. Remember, choose Love not Fear. Renew your spirit and take a moment of silence for yourself.

Love,
Robert

Q-BLOG ONE, Arrival in Iraq

I spent about a week at Ft. Bliss in El Paso, TX going through a sort of orientation. After that, I was one of the first to fly out to Kuwait, with a lay over in New York and one in Ireland. Kuwait was a very good experience for the 36 hours I was there. The flight into Iraq from Kuwait was with the British Royal Air Force. I heard about the maneuvers that are performed when landing in Iraq at the Baghdad Airport. The Brits did not disappoint! It was like a roller coaster ride! I think I was really too tired to get very excited about it. I woke when we dropped several hundred feet in a few seconds and then took a sharp turn and flattened out. This was on the Brit version of a C-130 Cargo plane. They are the planes that have net seating along the side of the plane as well as down the middle and with the pallets of cargo in the rear of the aircraft. We did wear our armored vests and helmets during the trip. I now know what an extra 40 or 50 pounds feels like to lug around!

The airport building was no where to be seen. The first thing I did see as we deplaned and moved onto the flight line was a camo covered AAFES P/X! WE really do go where the military goes! The next exciting part of the journey was riding from the airstrip to my new home and work place, Victory North. This is a few Kilometers outside of central Baghdad. The AAFES couriers that picked us up must have gone through the briefings we had at Bliss. Once you hit the highway, you just GO! I don’t think I’ve ever experienced this kind of driving, not in Korea, not in Japan, not in Germany, not in Kosovo, not even in Italy! If there is a slow moving vehicle in front of you, you pass anyway you can and you do it quickly….especially if the vehicle is not an army vehicle. I’m sure that if we had a flat or any other distraction, the drivers would have just hit the gas and gone until they couldn’t go any further...or we reached our destination. Thankfully, we reached our destination safe and sound.

Once I arrived, I was taken around and given the keys to my new home. Basically it is a small trailer divided in two, with a bathroom in the middle. I’m one of the lucky ones. I have a bathroom that I can share. Many others have no bathroom in their trailer and must walk outside to a communal bathroom and shower. Grant it, conditions are 100% better than they once were. We have trailers instead of tents. I remember in Kosovo, it was winter, and we only had tents for sleeping and showering. Dirt floors, mud to your knees outside, and the showers were far, far away from where you bunked. I am happy and pleased with what I have been provided in Iraq.

I heard much about the mortars that I might experience. The “might” was reality my first night. About 12:30 I woke to a sound not quite familiar to me. It was not the gunshots I would sometimes hear in Dallas, but much bigger and not as sharp. Sort of like a boulder being dropped. I woke up, a couple more came in and, well, frankly, I didn’t give a damn. I figured that the craziness I experienced this past year at work in Dallas…the day to day drain on my emotions and soul, feeling like I was literally having my life sucked out of me, was a greater threat to my well being than a few mortars. After all, if for some reason one hit me or near me, I felt I could much more easily deal with the physical pain or even death, than being a living organism with no life. Yes, it is that bad. Apparently return fire began around 4:30 or 5:00. The Howitzer’s are just behind my living quarters. Boy, could you feel the impact of those puppies! I hope I'll be able to tell the difference between and incoming mortar and an outgoing round from a Howitzer!

Today another mortar hit inside the compound and the BlackHawks seemed to start patrolling the perimeter the rest of the day. And yet, I feel much more calm and safe here in Iraq. There is dust everywhere and on everything, and yet it doesn’t bother me. The people I work with are great people and have made me feel right at home. I feel needed and wanted and even appreciated here at work. I think we all want to feel that from our jobs, don’t we?

I’ve written in my journal every day. It is something I have not done in years. I’m discovering a lot about myself. Maybe I should say I’m rediscovering a lot about myself. It scares me. It makes me sad, and yet it is something that I have needed to do. I have rediscovered the joy of thinking. Thinking about the world, about my place in it. About what I contribute and what I destroy on this earth, almost absentmindedly. I have found the way I am feeling is often or can often be a reflection of the world in which I live.

I don’t believe it is a coincidence how I feel/felt at work in someway reflected and reflects what the country and world are experiencing. It seems no one truly appreciates my contributions or the contributions of others. It seems that I am not listening to the voices of my past as they yell for my attention. I am not listening to my inner voice that continues to warn me to make a change. Instead I go forward with an agenda that everyone else can see is wrong, but I refuse to. If you change the "I" to a plural "we/our", see how this indeed may be what you and even the country or world as a whole is experiencing.

That is it for now. I may share my journal entry at a later time. It is a bit revealing, but I’m trying to get over the fear of letting people know who I am, good and bad.

I pray that each of you is listening to your inner voice and you find the courage to follow the advise it gives. Always remember, do things out of Love, not out of fear. This I believe will be my new motto!

Blessings and Love,

Robert