Going “Fourth" From Here

Where do we go now? — Pride, patriotism and willful blindness

A wall set on its side, can be a table.
It can be the beginning
of a nation we can be proud of.

Photo by Diane Helentjaris on Unsplash

I signed up at 17.

the year was 1990.

Poor, with dreams of attending a good college, tempted by a recruiter’s charisma and carefully-constructed tales of comraderie and high adventure, and while my mother and father bravely fought back tears, I signed on the dotted line, enlisting in the Army Reserves.

3 months later, half a world away, the bombs starting dropping in Iraq.

And I knew I had made a terrible, fateful decision.

I had felt a sense of duty, a gratitude and respect for the generations of soldiers who came before, a responsibility to give back what I could to a country that had given me such opportunity. Such freedom. A nation founded on the shining principles of liberty, justice, equality for all.

But as soon as the around-the-clock images of missiles firing, explosions lighting up darkened, night-vision-enhanced, street-lamp-lit skies, I found myself asking: “What was I thinking?”

Months away from graduation, from my eighteenth birthday and the right to vote, I had given up my sovereignty without knowing what that means. Without knowing this nation’s history. The real history. The meat grinders of WWII and Vietnam. The dozens of “minor” conflicts that to the people involved, on BOTH sides, were anything but.

Weighing my Options

I tried my best to get out.

As it happened, I had an uncle who worked for a peace organization. I went to him, and I told him the truth.

”I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to die. Help me!”

But it soon became clear - basically, I was screwed.

I would have to go - or be saddled with an “other than honorable” or even a “dishonorable” discharge - risking prison time and almost certainly ruining my future before it had even started.

So, that next summer, weeks after graduation, and still only seventeen, I headed to the
MEPS station in Syracuse for initial processing, then boarding a plane (for the first time) to Saint Louis, Missouri, and a three-hour bus ride to Fort Leonard Wood, where Basic Training awaited, beginning the meat of my 6-year enlistment — hoping for the best.

Conflicting Thoughts

And so began, what I would term a “conflicted” relationship with this nation, and all things “patriotic.” Its leadership, Its propaganda, the people who would steal citizen’s money under the guise of national interests, and national defense to increase their personal wealth.

An ambivalence toward the politicians who would send other people’s children to the slaughter. To slaughter other nation’s children for an uptick in a stock price. Indeed slaughter women and children indiscriminately for the crime of living in a nation that dared stand in the way of empire.

And, indeed I observed the patterns. The nature of the Military-Industrial Complex. The real, but faded atrocities committed in the past.

Miraculously, my time of enlistment went by uneventfully. I graduated from college, aided by the $140 a month (later raised to $210) I got from the G.I. Bill, and got my first job.

Then In ‘98, thankful to my lucky stars than I had not been sent to war, I made what was probably the best decision of my life. (Though ironically, not the easiest) and did not re-enlist.

And just a few years later, watched in horror as the gears of war started turning — yet again.

At the time, caught up in the fervor of the moment, and for many years after, I was able to rationalize my patriotism. Explain away the atrocities, Yes, those things we bad. But that’s in the past. Things are better now. Nowhere to go but up! Blue skies ahead!

Man, was I wrong.

Hate and division never left, but had festered, just beneath the surface. A. razor-thin veneer over ugly truths, just waiting for the right circumstances to break free.

Learning my History

As I said before, I had a certain ambivalence toward this country.

But this year, that ambivalence shifted.

The injustice perpetrated by Trump and his regime, the brutal treatment of immigrants and dark-skinned people, the dehumanization of LGBTQIA+ people, the disabled and mentally ill, the rejection of science, of the value of the environment, the destruction of the social safety net — it motivated to reexamine the nation’s history.

And my eyes were opened. WIDE open.

I learned that this was not something new, but a continuation, and intensification of what had always been.

I learned that even the ones I would have termed the good ones, did little to alleviate suffering, still were quick to choose brutality over diplomacy, often with disastrous consequences, willing to look away — if the money spoke loud enough.

I learned that the everything we thought we had been given, had, in fact, been earned. Through violence, though struggle. With toil. With tears. With BLOOD.

And if we wanted to keep what we had, we would have to do it all again.

At last I saw clearly, saw through the myths and constructions, the fantasies of glory.

Replaced by sadness, anger…

RAGE.

A rage that I bottled up and captured here:

Going “Fourth”

Like Langston fucking Hughes
This dream explodes from a fuse
Lit with a bit of incendiary flint.

This rhyme that I spit
is arriving with violence,
breaking though the silence
with pent-up rage,
the force of a tornado.
Be careful where you sit
cause I just might bust through

The misconceptions and deceptions
that been planted in your mind
the willful and the ignorant
Blindly leading the blind.

Do your patriotic duty now
and swallow up your pride,
While I tell you all the stories
that they’ve tried so hard to hide.

You might think it started back in 2024,
or on the 6th,
or when Obama split,
or even a few years more.

But its been the same
since the land was claimed
by Spanish ships settling in
on Hispanola’s sparkling shores.

Since then its been a constant game of genocide.
Wars with but one side —
The Indians, then the Blacks.
Learn about your history,
Man, you know that it’s a fact.
This nation’s never lacked for homicidal maniacs
Sitting in the hall of power, stealing money, make it shower
While the working people sit in their tenements and glower.

War after war of Imperial pursuits.
False flags, cover-ups, whitewashed and dilute-ed
with turpentine — until they sparkle and shine
Blemishes gone
Rough patches patched over
A million bombs dropped
on those who refuse to bow lower.

No time to waste — This fourth we’re going forth
Pick up the pace — Cause time is getting short
The pie’s on the plate, the ball is in our court
Time to stake our claim —
And move this country forth

Revisionists will tell this,

“Man, that shit is in the past!
we were bad once, sure,
but you’re givin’ a bad rap
to the founding father’s legacies,
my ancestors before me.”

Well, I’m not here to argue technicalities.
But to bring a new dawn, and plant a new seed.
We speak of a pride, but what’s to be proud of?
when we send men to die, but hide the true cause of,
the motives inside the hearts of the greedy,
who turn their eyes away from the poor and the needy.

We say a city on a hill, a shining example,
But leaders care only about trophies on a mantle.
Each one represents 100,000 dead.
When you gonna let these words get into your head?

Will we make this place — something to be proud of?
Will we take — a stand against the one’s who’ve fought us?
Reject the fantasies they taught us?
The ways that they divide us?
The lies they try to use to buy us?
See the truth that lies inside us?

Tear down the walls, flip ‘em as we’re able
turn them into — a long, wide welcome table
Write a new story, make it one of glory —
where no ever has to worry
about a bankruptcy from catching a little flu
Where’s there’s good food to eat
and hearts — not prisons filled.

Where not just the few,
but everybody wins.
and freedom’s not just a word
but a truth we believe in.

No time to waste — this fourth we’re going forth.
Pick up the pace — cause time is getting short.
Hear the people sing, shake the country to its core.
Let true freedom ring, from a whisper to a ROAR.

A Message from Joe Walsh

Earlier this week, I saw this post our favorite ex-TEA-partier - Joe Walsh.

I thought — Exactly what are we supposed to proud about?

To my mind. even his answer was a non-answer — revealing the silliness of pride.

That is about a group of people, not a nation.

I couldn’t think of a single thing that we had done that was purely “good”.

Even the things we call good - there were always ulterior motives, there were always conditions, certain expectations.

So, in my mind, I formulated a reply:

Just what am I supposed to be proud of that this empire has done?

Slaughtering millions of indiginous people and call it progress “manifest destiny” and “taming the wilderness?” Stealing millions of African people from their homelands and terming them “property?” Turning firehoses and nerve agents on its own citizens who protest injustice? Funding death squads and oppressive regimes around the globe? Creating and distributing alarmingly and increasingly deadly and devastating weapon to escalate conflict globally for the purpose of fattening the pockets of the already rich even further? Setting up and codifying oppressive systems that funnel the children of former slaves into poverty and prison? Setting up systems to harass, punish and isolate immigrants? Selling out the environment to augment GDP? Calling in dogs, police, National Guard troops to end strikes and protests? Turning a blind eye over and over again to lynchings and racial violence? An educational system that indoctrinates as much as it educates? Sending our children to die in meaningless conflicts and claim “American Exceptionalism,” “Promoting democracy” and “national defense?” Demonizing People’s Wars and uprising time and time again in the name of “Winning the Cold War” and “Stopping the scourge of Communism?“ Excusing the most horrific bombings imaginable and hide behind excuse like “Saving American lives” and “regrettable but necessary actions of war?”

Tell me Joe, what are we to be proud about?

I wanted to reply with that,
maybe even end this entire post with that,

A part of me wanted, really wanted — to end it there.

But I didn’t.

Seeing in a new light

I knew I couldn’t end it that way. I had to leave you with something positive. Something hopeful. A message of peace. A message of love.

So instead, I went back and read his message again - more carefully. More thoughtfully.

And I saw it.

He didn’t talk about events, actions, policies, or grand achievements.

He talked of people.

And maybe that’s it. Maybe that was what I was looking for. Something actually worth celebrating after all.

I am proud.

I am proud of the people who came before.

My ancestors. Your ancestors.

The people who pushed back against Empire —

And the ones who continue their legacy today.

Who fought for their families.
Who fought for the ones who couldn’t fight for themselves.
Who gave us an example to follow in these dark days.

Who spoke up, who acted out against oppression —
Even when oppression wrapped itself up with a flag, tied it with a yellow ribbon, and called itself freedom.

Who fought, who still fight — to save this world from itself.

It’s not about the lies they told us
But the truth that will never change.

So today, I will celebrate.

Not a flag, not a symbol, not a set of principles, but people.

The people who, together, will lead us out of the darkness…
to the Promised Land.

To the promise of a new day.

A wall set on its side,
can be a table.
With places set for all.
It can be the beginning
of a nation we can be proud of.
Of a tower standing tall.

Conclusion - Going Forth

This morning I listened to a Buddhist talk on Samsara - The endless cycle of birth and death from which arises the suffering of all sentient beings.

At this time when so many are suffering, where you too may be suffering - for any of a number of reasons, I think it particularly relevant and important to remember that there is a purpose to it all.

All the suffering we experience
Is but a reminder
That we have forgotten
the suffering of others.

An invitation is extended —
On this day,
At the palace,
Your presence —
Has been requested.

So, in closing, I go back to the question from the top —

Where do we go from here?

I don’t know that answer.
But I know how we get there.
With unity. With togetherness.
With clarity of purpose.
With faith in each other.
Hand in hand with our brothers.
By the belief
That we shall rise above
The pain and the sorrow,
And find a bright tomorrow.
We get there — with love.

Open your mind, open your heart.
Never too late, too late to start.

BLOOM

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A miracle is any small thing — that pierces the veil, drops the shroud between the two realms, opens our mind’s eye for the briefest of moments and allows us to see the world clearly, illuminated by the majesty of love.

Peace and Blessings, Love and Light

Aaron

Namaste 🌺

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A note in closing:

Everything that I publish here on Substack is completely free for all to read and share - for the simple reason that I don’t want the pressure of having to churn out content to meet outside expectations. Only to share what I am called to from my heart.

If you’re wondering why I have cut my schedule to once a week, it’s simply because I know you are already inundated with demands on your time, and I don’t want to add more.

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You can read more about my philosophy and find other ways to support me in the following post.

Peace and blessings,

Aaron