My Sunday Thought for 072918: Even a Worm Will Turn

“We wander in our thousands over the face of the earth, the illustrious and the obscure, earning beyond the seas our fame, our money, or only a crust of bread; but it seems to me that, for each of us, going home must be like going to render an account. We return to face our superiors, our kindred, our friends--those whom we obey, and those whom we love; but even they who have neither, the most free, lonely, irresponsible and bereft of ties,--even those for whom home holds no dear face, no familiar voice,--even they have to meet the spirit that dwells within the land, under its sky, in its air, in its valleys, and on its rises, in its fields, in its waters and its trees--a mute friend, judge, and inspirer.”

-- Joseph Conrad(1857-1924), novelist, "Lord Jim"

Note to the reader:  I never post things concerning others without clearing it with the subject first, unless the others are simply acting like poorly.  In this case, I had to clear it with my daughter as a bit of it deals with her personal emotions, our earlier relationship, and such else.  She gave her approval because, in her words, "I think it’s all things I already knew, but other people might need to hear the message."  I do so hope she is right.

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My daughter was approaching 30 when she sent me a page long, typewritten letter as explanation of who she was and why she felt the way she did about the judgement of family, people around her, and things happening, or not, in her life.  It was a letter I didn't need to read, but one she felt had to be sent.  It discussed so much of what I already knew she had to vocalize in order to move forward.  You can only hold so much inside.  I knew all of her emotion because I had lived it, and then some.  If this post is to be seen as anything other than my usual weekly rambling for "My Sunday Thought," it might be viewed as the long overdue answer to my daughter's letter, and my apology for not being there to warn and mentor her.

Bullying isn't just a peer group issue.  It can sometimes appear in the form of perceived unreasonable job related or parental expectations and neglect, as well as physical or mental abuse, and the parent or system which turns a blind eye to the bullying occurring around them.  Our perception of something doesn't make it real, but if we perceive it as being so that is enough for those experiencing it.  Bullying can also appear in the form of "privilege" in a case where parents dote way too much on spoiled brats who are sorely in need of a reality call.  Enabling is as cruel as bullying, in my view, and many bullies are simply children who have been cruelly enabled to believe what they do is acceptable by some twisted societal standards.

When you're quirky and the smallest kid, your classmates can be the things of nightmares.  They are the bullies, the girls who won't talk to you and the multitude of others who ignore you.  You're not the last to be picked for sports; you're never picked for sports.  Your nemesis is the persona of a coach who schemes to keep you off his football team, and not because you aren't the fastest or most agile, and certainly because you can't take a beating.  It isn't that you aren't a winner, and it isn't that you aren't faster than the bullies who would beat you up; it's just that you're never given a chance to show your potential or have your potential groomed.  Crying alone becomes a skill set at which you are very efficient.  You see your classmates as the bane of your existence and, for some kids, a reason not to live.

I was the weakling, the kid with thick glasses, awkward, shy, and I had severe stage fright for which I teased - I froze when up in front of class.  Most of the kids who looked like me at least had some brains, some higher intelligence, which made up for quite a bit of their physical shortcomings.  Not everyone who ignored me was a bully, but it makes you wonder if they knew what was going on around them, if they said anything, or if they cared.  I would like to think they did.

I wasn't intelligent; I struggled in school since, well, what was the point?  But, I was soon to discover who and what I truly was.  I would discover an untapped potential, and I would find that intelligence was to play second fiddle to the smarts I was learning from all of this experience being visited upon me by people, coaches, teachers, and classmates, who sold me short.  I would discover, however, they were, in fact, doing more for me and who I would become, than I had dared imagine.

The change for me happened one afternoon, I think I was a junior in high school; I was walking through the woods with one of my two friends and an acquaintance of his.  I'm not sure why my friend liked this clown, other than he lived a few house down.  Friendship by proximity, I suppose.  The guy was an ass who took every opportunity to get under my skin by constantly finding fault with me.  This was the day I had a mild psychotic break, oh hell, this was the day I snapped.

This day, his string of personal assault was met with a baseball bat sized  tree branch with which I fully intended on beating him to death.  Luckily my good friend was twice my size and pulled me off of him before I did any severe damage. I guess you could say that was my first "Aha!" moment, that instant I went from victim to non-victim and immediately realized my "go to" protector in high school, the giant huggy-bear Dennis (may he rest in peace), wouldn't have to protect me anymore.

In fact, I started placing myself between other helpless victims and their antagonist so much the occasional beatings were hurting less and I was learning a psychological tact of embarrassing the bullies in front of their girlfriends, which didn't lessen the pain but did make it bearable.  I would ask if he really thought beating someone smaller made others see him as a man, and then I would tell the girl that, if this piece of crap was the best she could do, she doesn't set her bar very high considering how pretty she was.  This was the double zinger of attacking his machismo while also hitting on a girl of which I stood no chance in hell.  But, she knew I didn't have to take this beating, and he knew she knew it wasn't my fight, but I had made it my fight.  You could tell by the look on her face that she was re-evaluating the self-defining putz she was with.  I thought the beatings would increase, since I was volunteering to take an ass whipping for others, but the guys started walking away in order to save face.  Here, I figured we were both learning a lesson:  Pride is as elusive for some as humility is for others.

Now, don't get me wrong, not all of my classmates were bullies.  The problem with fear is that you build walls that don't differentiate between friend and foe.  With the enemy constantly at the gates, best to just lock everybody out, unless it's an emergency, like a potential butt whipping.  I look back on those few, however, and all I can remember are their faces glancing around like wound springs.  Was it to be the trashcan on the "senior lawn" or pants run up the flagpole?  I always thought I was too small to fit in a locker; luckily, I never found out.

To my way of thinking, what most students, myself included, seemed to forget is the reason why we were in school?  We were there to learn, not to socialize.  We were there for an education, not to be accepted or tolerated by others, and certainly not to pass judgment on the weak or the helpless.  Our agenda was supposed to be going to class and studying.  If your agenda is judging others, or worrying about how anyone, except the instructors, judges you, you have totally missed the point.  And I really never grasped the whole mopping the halls with testosterone, making it with the varsity football team, or being crowned prom queen.  Well, not until I took a course in the psychology of abnormal behavior.  Ever read "The 120 Days of Sodom" by the Marquis de Sade?  Neither have I, though I understand it is quite illuminating.

We all make up for our shortcomings in different ways, and we make others suffer for our emotional issues in a fruitless attempt to transfer them, which really doesn't work, anyway.  That doesn't work, though.  Other people are in misery and all you do is compound your deep seeded issues for later.  But, I digress, yet again...

It didn't matter that I studied high school college prep courses but couldn't grasp the subject matter; it did matter that I applied myself, even to no avail.  And it wasn't about a lack of intelligence as much as it was studying the wrong subjects.  They really didn't interest me.  You can have issues grasping the most basic of knowledge and still be a wiz when it comes to physics or math.  To this day I know some very stupid intelligent people, some with multiple degrees from those "institutions of higher education."  

Anyway, I soon graduated from high school, basically because God blinked.  I'm still not sure how I managed that little feat, but my grade point average squeaked by and I found myself in college as a psychology major with a 3.2 grade average by the end of the first semester.  I wasn't being bullied, I wasn't cracking a book to study, I was meeting girls, and it seemed I was finally hitting my stride.  I was looking forward to entering Stanford with professor recommendations.  And then, God started paying attention again; I was number 9 on the military draft lottery for that little unpleasantness across the pond in Vietnam.  I hit basic training at Lackland, in San Antonio, just a couple of weeks before they ended the draft.  Yes, ending the draft after I joined up was God having a bit of humor at my expense, yet again, and it would be the best 22 years of my life.

Basic training was just an exercise in basic psychology foisted upon the recruits by what I saw as bullies with stripes and permissions.  This was a no brainer for me, however, as I psyched the hell out it.  Basic training is simply a game at which you have to win or draw, not lose.  It isn't difficult to draw, you simply have to learn and follow the rules.  I saw the rules and regulations, more as "guidelines" setup to see if you are good enough to follow the rules, or good enough to interpret the rules, good enough to win.  The difference between a draw and a win is a recruit's ability to walk the fine line of understanding the unspoken interpretations.   When the mission is everything and time is of the essence, regulations be damned, you have to ignore dissecting the minutia, consider the big picture, and make a decision.  Ignoring minutia required that you actually knew the rules and regs.  When the dust cleared, my two years of psychology landed me a job in Air Force Intelligence.  I never looked back.  

The Intelligence field taught me public speaking and briefing skills, debriefing and interrogation.  I learned how to train the untrainable and how to become a good leader.  And, I learned judo and how to shoot and kill.  The ability to kill was no longer a question in my mind, and neither was torture.  We would devise torture in our spare time at the office; a blackboard and chalk can be the devil's playground for the sadistic.  Yes, we were a twisted bunch but, then, you had to be.

Going through training, I found my "legally blind" eyesight was no barrier to me qualifying with various firearms.  I discovered a preference for knives over guns, and I've always been concerned with what that preference for razor sharp pointy things said about me.  It concerned me more than a possibility of having to torture someone.  I supposed that's where the knife would come in; up close, personal.

I also learned about survival and evasion, and I learned resistance, if captured.  I learned how to screw with people's heads (and again, for me, not a big stretch).  I went from planning bombing missions for fighters to nuclear planning for bombers, with a smattering of unmentionables in between, and learned that it isn't so much about the Top Secret clearance you have as it is all of the caveats which follow and define it.  And, as a side note, If you don't think planning the possible nuclear destruction of millions of innocent women and children, whom you affectionately refer to as "collateral damage," won't give you a mild, yet insidious, case of PTSD, well, think again.

From the moment I made NCO I was annually put in for the SAC Intelligence NCO of the Year Award, and I always came in second.  I finally found out, from a friend at HQ SAC, you had to be political, to pucker up a juicy wet one, and kiss some serious butt in order to win.  I don't kiss butt.  If I deserve a kudo for being good at what I do, just tell me I did good.  I requested they stop putting me in for the award.

Prior to my retirement my unit was asked to assist proving low-level conventional bombing capabilities for the B-52, moving it from a high altitude and nuclear platform into a new role in order to save in from being mothballed.  We succeeded and I was offered either Air Force One or Area 51, as an award for a job well done.  I turned them both down.  I had done my job, enough said.  But, sometimes the really good are pre-positioned just in case the shit hits the fan.  As my award I was sent to create a one-man Intelligence shop at a joint base in Sicily.  I would soon discover I'd been setup, yet again, this time to be the enroute stop for Intelligence updates and initial debriefings for aircrews flying aircraft downrange to the Middle East in support of Operation(s) Desert Shield and Desert Storm. 

I one of the best at what you do is draining if you do it for too long, and after 22 years of focus, I'd had enough.  I was burned out.  I retired as a Master Sergeant with two kids and a marriage that was in tatters.  The marriage eventually dissolved and, for all the misplaced blame, I had to own the lion's share.  My life had become the job at which I had proved to be so very adept.  My family had suffered for it and that was all on me.  I had become all I could be and, in the end, I found myself wanting.

“He no longer loves the person whom he loved ten years ago. I quite believe it. She is no longer the same, nor is he. He was young, and she also; she is quite different. He would perhaps love her yet, if she were what she was then.”

-- Blaise Pascal (1623-1662), theologian, mathematician, physicist

I speak of all this to put what would come next into some context.

One year after the divorce was my 30 year class reunion. I didn't even consider it. By this time I admitted I really had nothing in common with any classmates, other than I was also still alive. I cancelled the alumni newsletter because it seemed more of a periodic obituary, constantly reminding me of the fragility of life, than anything of real interest for me. The fragility of life is what nuclear deterrence evidenced for me.  I didn't know my classmates anymore than I knew the enemy to be bombed.  I might recognize a face, but even most of the names were unfamiliar to me. Maybe my attitude was being driven by years of worrying about things of so much more importance, like life and death.

“Social media is like reunion, but the catching up is done through the comfort of your own bed. Scrolling through photos and statuses are too easy to not be done. You know about their social life and where they’ve been last weekend. Then you wonder why they have such flawless hair and makeup. How could they look so effortlessly awesome?”

-- Marcella Purnama, writer

Needless to say, I don't go to class reunions. I went to one early on, and remembered why I didn't want to go - even several years after graduation, I really I didn't remember anybody, even though someone thought we should wear name tags just to drive that obvious point home, and as for those I did remember, I still had little in common with. These were all strangers who rarely, if ever, noticed me, sat with me at lunch, or gave me the time of day.  My few friends were usually seen together; safety in numbers?

Back then, I suppose even the victims considered bullying as something to be dealt with, more as a rite of passage, at least that's what dads would tell sons; you had to learn to fight, or learn to deal with it and remain silent.  I always wondered who the real cowards were, dads who didn't have the balls to confront the parents of a bully, the bully proving to his peers just how stupid and thoughtless he is, or the victim hiding in the restroom stall.

In the news you would hear of a few kids committing suicide.  I'm not sure if bullying was ever mentioned as a cause or just silently assumed.  At that time in our history it might have been the "sin" of youthful homosexuality and the requisite bullying of the effeminate individual they knew wouldn't, or couldn't, fight back.  To this day I don't understand how intelligent people think a child would willingly choose to be something which they know for a fact will visit upon them beatings and relentless bullying.  Good sense should have hypothesized it really isn't a choice for those so young.

Regardless, though, I remember viewing bullying as a proof to saying, "survival of the fittest."  How wrong was that?  A good question, perhaps answered when one considers we have been raising our children in a "kinder, gentler environment" thanks to Dr. Benjamin Spock.  Since the mid-1950's the suicide rate among young adults has tripled, and is still rapidly growing.  Gee, let's see, I'm going out on a limb here and sacrificing intelligence for a bit of good sense:  Dr. Spock's theory of gentler child rearing, sparing the rod, came out around the mid-1950s.  Imagine that?  It would seem to be the same time suicides in young people started go on the rise.  We are, in reality, loving our children to death, and denying it.  We are sparing the rod and killing the child.  Bravo!

I am sure 2021 will usher in my 68th birthday as well as the 50 year reunion for my Class of 1971.  At my age it will offer another narrowing opportunity to revisit a part of my life for which memories hold little value.  The thought of going to this stressful waste of time flashed across my mind as I was doing my tri-weekly 45 minutes on the treadmill and weight machines.  At 65 I am diligently exercising and down to 172 pounds.  I have a BP of 132/80, and feel like I'm 40.  I have two semi-auto weapons, a shotgun, a butt load of knives, and still have no desire to mix with people from 54 years ago whom I never really knew and, still to this day, have little to nothing in common with.  I think my worst fear, graduating in a little town an hour south of San Francisco, would be finding myself as the only conservative in a room of liberals full of alcohol.  Well, let's see, California... pass me a "fat boy" and I'll be just fine.

The military showed me friends are those who have your back in a fight, comrades in arms you would gladly follow into battle and die for, or send into battle and grieve for.   Who would have thought a helpless "victim" would take back control and be given a chance do all of this?

I'm no longer the smallest or the weakest, and I have come to understand that I never was. Victims are usually better than those who treat them badly or ignore them, and if these folks say they didn't realize they were doing it, my point is sadly made. Whether the protagonist is consciously aware of what they're doing, is of little matter to the "victim" of their ignorance, non-acceptance, and/or abuse. Unfortunately, there will always be "clicks" and there will always be those who are, or feel, excluded.

It is an insidious part of growing up, and the painful lesson to be learned by the shunned few is, we are victims because we choose to be victims. You've only lost the fight when you give up. Never give up and never surrender, but you can strategically retreat to regroup and live to fight another day.  There is no such thing as failure unless you choose to fail.  From the Tao Te Ching: 

Nothing is weaker than water,

But when it attacks something hard

Or resistant, then nothing withstands it,

And nothing will alter its way.

As the lead chaplain for a regional medical center, I have the opportunity to weekly address people suffering with PTSD, abuse, and addiction.  My message to them is about why they chose to be there, and about having faith in themselves to rise above consequences in their lives.  There is no assigning blame to others, and there is certainly no going backward.  We make a choice, and we can choose to either live with the consequences or rise above them.  The blame for our poor decisions, if blame is to be assigned, is ours and ours alone; we must own the choices we make, embrace the consequences, learn from them, and boldly take another step forward.  Apply, review, learn, adjust, repeat; there is no failure.  Each adjustment brings us closer to success.  Master Yoda would say, there is no try, there is only do or do not.  We are, all of us, in a constant state of adjustment until we succeed.  We always need to have faith in ourselves that we will, sooner or later succeed, as long as we never give up.  This is our test.  

Each and every day is a new day in paradise and another day to excel in life.  What you want to become is entirely in your hands, no one else's.  There will always be those who will try to hold you back, and these folks must discover for themselves who they are.  These folks must discover they are truly smaller than their victims before they can ever rise above what they are and move forward into the light to become more than what they were.

“I did then what I knew how to do. Now that I know better, I do better.”

-- Maya Angelou (1928-2014), poet, activist

Am I bitter about my childhood and bullies?  Oh, hell no.  Did you read all I've accomplished?  The people in my life, good, bad, and indifferent, were the impetus behind a great military career, and the career which would follow with the world renowned Western Institutional Review Board.  All of these people are a great part of why I follow my path.  For some I am a spiritual mentor, a chaplain, and a person of faith.  I have no bitterness for the "gifts" people have bestowed upon me.  Everybody has purpose for their existence, and I think I have accomplished mine, up to this point, with few regrets.  I could not have done that if I had not been through everything I have; my childhood and youth set me up for what was to come.  My children made me, eventually, grow up.  My failed marriage taught me forgiveness.  And, through all of this, I made a difference in the world, which I might not have been able to do otherwise.  No, there is certainly no bitterness.

To victims of bullying I can only offer this:  You are more than you have been led to believe; you have more ability and more potential than fully half of those who would hold you back.  You have this because of what you've been through, not in spite of it.  It is the answer to why; why you are, why you exist.  Do not be perpetually offended by those who wrong you, for they may not be smart enough to realize what they do, much less why, and they certainly do not realize, again, who you are or why you are.  You need to move passed their actions, forgive and rise above their attitude, for their judgement is not your purview and you have so much more to pay attention to than the shortcomings of those people who, if they even acknowledge you live, dare to always judge and find fault.

“You are not a victim. No matter what you have been through, you're still here. You may have been challenged, hurt, betrayed, beaten, and discouraged, but nothing has defeated you. You are still here! You have been delayed but not denied. You are not a victim, you are a victor. You have a history of victory.”

-- Steve Maraboli, speaker, author, behavioral scientist

As for those very intelligent people or the "girl most likely to," the valedictorians, the entire varsity football team, and those members of the student council, kudos to them for packing so much into such a short time.  For all of us who aren't, or weren't, don't stress too much over it.  If you're still in touch with your old classmates, great!  If you aren't, then they really didn't matter that much to you anyway, and if it didn't then, why should it now?  Why someone is not in your life should be of less concern to you than to them.  If you can look in the mirror and know who you are, own your life, and still be able to smile in the knowledge you have done right each and every day by those around you, what others feel about you is so very inconsequential to why you exist.

If intelligence doesn't seem to be your forte and you find yourself struggling in school, I would be more concerned about how smart you are.  If you are smart and also intelligent - that is simply icing on the cake; learn the difference.  Be able to differentiate between right and wrong, good and bad, innocent and guilty.  Believe nothing that is written or said unless you thoroughly vett the information.  Know the yin and yang of reality and you will find some measurement of wisdom.  Concern yourself with accepting others, being tolerant, and reasonable.  Be more concerned with who you are, and especially why you are.  God does not make mistakes, so understand that you "are" for a damned good reason.  You are important and necessary, and you have a path to walk.  Live for today, for the moment, because this moment is all we truly have.  And discover your path, for each of us has our own path to walk and only you can walk yours.

“You might be poor, your shoes might be broken, but your mind is a palace.”

-- Frank McCourt (1930-2009), teacher, writer

You will eventually discover your purpose, that activity at which you excel and enjoy.  When you do, be the best you can at whatever that is, even if it's sweeping the streets or washing windows.  My advice for after you graduate - don't stay.  Move away, travel, and experience the world.  Learn about other cultures, meet other people in their own countries, and learn to communicate even if you don't know the language.  In this, you might just forget everything negative that went before.  If you embrace this, you may find that your now is so much more enriching than your past. 

The image I used, at the beginning of this post, to depict the demons which haunted my youthful dreams, show the demons looking up toward the observer.  And this is where all our demons should remain - looking up to us, just out of reach, unless, of course, they wish to take a "social risk" and accept us.  How nice would that be?  What great stuff it would say about them if they were to take the risk and step away from their "perceived" station to realize we are all the same, yet different.

“A good head and good heart are always a formidable combination. But when you add to that a literate tongue or pen, then you have something very special.”

-- Nelson Mandela (1918-2013), revolutionary, political leader

Spend your now enjoying the journey along your path, following your path into each new day, living for the moment.  Be the evidence, to anyone who cares, that you are more than the victim you once chose to be.  You will find that many in your universe will discover their own unique capability and capacity for love and understanding.

Author Joseph Conrad wrote, "...even those for whom home holds no dear face, no familiar voice,--even they have to meet the spirit that dwells within the land, under its sky, in its air, in its valleys, and on its rises, in its fields, in its waters and its trees--a mute friend, judge, and inspirer.”  And, once you have met this "spirit" you must let it go lest it corrupt your soul or become your crutch.  I firmly believe you cannot go home again.  Things change, people change, and if you've grown beyond, as many do, going back can be a painful reminder of that growth.  And, if you never threw caution to the wind, what growth has truly occurred?  What remains, for those who left, other than the only constant in the universe?

If it is really true that beings go home to die, then strive for more.  If you must strive for something, strive to be a light for others to follow, a voice of tolerance and reason, for others to hear.  Mother Teresa, Saint Teresa of Calcutta, once wrote, “Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.”  Well, if not today, when?

Let us begin!

"To whom do lions cast their gentle looks? Not to the beast that would usurp their den. The smallest worm will turn being trodden on, And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood."

-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), "Henry VI"

"Follow Me" at https://congregationforreligioustolerance.blogspot.com/

Editor's Note

(Re: disclaimer cum "get out of jail free" card)

Before you go getting your panties in a bunch, it is essential to understand that this is just an opinion site and, as such, can be subjected to scrutiny by anyone with a differing opinion. It doesn't make either opinion any more right or wrong than the other. An opinion, presented in this context, is a way of inciting others to think and, hopefully, to form opinions of their own, if they haven't already done so. This is also why, occasionally, I will present an "opinion" just to stir an emotional pot. Where it may sound like I agree with the statements made, I'm more interested in getting others to consider an alternate viewpoint. 

It is my fervent hope that we keep open and active minds when reading opinions and while engaging in peaceful and constructive discussion, in an arena of mutual respect, concerning those opinions put forth. After over twenty years with military intelligence, I have come to believe engaging each other in this manner and in this arena is the way we will learn tolerance and respect for differing beliefs, cultures, and viewpoints.

We all fall from grace, some more often than others; it is part of being human. God's test for us is what we learn from the experience, and what we do afterward.

Pastor Tony spent 22 years with United States Air Force Intelligence as a planner, analyst, briefer, instructor, and senior manager. He spent 17 years, following his service career, working with the premier, world renowned, Institutional Review Board helping to protect the rights of human subjects involved in pharmaceutical research. Ordained 1n 2013 as an "interfaith" minister, he founded the Congregation for Religious Tolerance in response to intolerance shown by Christians toward peaceful Islam. As the weapon for his war on intolerance he chose the pen, and wages his "battle" in the guise of the Congregation's official online blog, The Path, of which he is both author and editor. "The Path" offers a vehicle for commentary and guidance concerning one's own personal, spiritual, path toward peace and the final destination for us all. He currently resides in Pass Christian, Mississippi, where he volunteers as lead Chaplain and Chaplain Program Liaison, at the regional medical center.