The Kalsu Blues
My emotional life here at Camp Kalsu is a cycle of ups and downs, highs and lows, repeating with a discernable rhythm. The “highs” come when I am able to live in the moment, notice and appreciate the beauty around me, and be fully engaged in what I’m doing. The lows come when I dwell on the things about this place that I don’t like, when I long to go home, and when I fall prey to my own expectations.
In the last few days, I’ve cursed the smell of burning garbage rather than appreciating the clear crystal beauty of the night sky. I’ve lamented the infernal symphony of outgoing artillery, machine gun fire, and helicopter noise that wakes me, rather than being thankful for a comfortable bed. I’ve been frustrated with the monotony of eating the same rice, vegetables, and fruit for every meal, rather than glad there is hot food. I am mired in pessimism and hatred for this place, rather than feeling joy at being alive.
The high tide of the recent weeks has ebbed as the excitement of the UU Blog Awards drifts into the past, and the monotony of this parade of Mondays reestablishes itself. My final plunge into the Blues came when I found out I’ll be here at Kalsu longer than I had expected. It was painful to think that instead of going back to Al Asad next week for some more of the “good life,” away from the tedium and strain of living in two square kilometers of mud and mortars, I’ll probably stay here for the rest of my time in Iraq.
Of course things could be much worse. Just this evening I talked with some soldiers who had just arrived, and was commiserating with one of them who had the “Kalsu Krud,” the chest and head cold that helped make the first five weeks of my time here miserable. I realized that although I’m leaving this place within the month, they are here for a YEAR! I really feel for them, and for their families. I am truly thankful that my time here has been relatively short.
My unfulfilled expectation of leaving soon is the problem, of course. One of the main reasons I have dedicated myself to living in the present moment, accepting life as it is rather than as I wish it were, is to counter the uncertainty of my departure from Kalsu. Then one day, I’m given the key to Pandora’s Box – a date I am supposed to leave! Try as I might, I could not resist setting my sights (and my heart) on that day, and counting down the days to my departure. Now that is gone, and I suffer the inevitable disappointment of living by my expectations rather than accepting life as it comes.
An interesting aspect of being “down” is that it gives meaning to being “up.” If I were in the same mood all the time, whether I called it “good” or “bad,” life would be awfully tedious. I like this idea of complementary states, whether they are emotional – good/bad, happy/sad, love/hate – or physical – light/dark, hot/cold, hard/soft. Neither state can exist without the other and have any meaning.
This process of dichotomizing can be taken to extremes by declaring the choice to be either/or. That is, believing a thing, person, or idea must be one at the expense of being the other. This gives rise to simplistic rhetoric such as “we’re going to destroy evil in the world” and “if you’re not with us, you’re against us.” If we are good and we destroy all evil, how can we be good any more? Such a binary, “black and white” view of the world disdains shades of gray - the balance and blending of the two extremes.
This idea of complementary pairs of balanced and interdependent states is a central tenet of Taoist philosophy: yin and yang. Within each is the seed of the other, and together they form a whole. As Lao Tzu says in the Tao te Ching, “the myriad creatures carry upon their backs the yin and embrace in their arms the yang, and are the blending of the generative forces of the two.” Life is both/and, not either/or.
Any state can be divided again and again – for example, within the yin of “hot” there are the yin and yang of “very hot” and “warm.” Taken far enough, this process results in a continuum, rather than a stark series of either/or choices. Bend the continuum into a circle, and “before and after follow each other” – have you ever felt like ice cold water was burning hot?
And so I have come full circle, from joy to despair and back to joy – so this is the end of The Kalsu Blues.
Until next time…
In the last few days, I’ve cursed the smell of burning garbage rather than appreciating the clear crystal beauty of the night sky. I’ve lamented the infernal symphony of outgoing artillery, machine gun fire, and helicopter noise that wakes me, rather than being thankful for a comfortable bed. I’ve been frustrated with the monotony of eating the same rice, vegetables, and fruit for every meal, rather than glad there is hot food. I am mired in pessimism and hatred for this place, rather than feeling joy at being alive.
The high tide of the recent weeks has ebbed as the excitement of the UU Blog Awards drifts into the past, and the monotony of this parade of Mondays reestablishes itself. My final plunge into the Blues came when I found out I’ll be here at Kalsu longer than I had expected. It was painful to think that instead of going back to Al Asad next week for some more of the “good life,” away from the tedium and strain of living in two square kilometers of mud and mortars, I’ll probably stay here for the rest of my time in Iraq.
Of course things could be much worse. Just this evening I talked with some soldiers who had just arrived, and was commiserating with one of them who had the “Kalsu Krud,” the chest and head cold that helped make the first five weeks of my time here miserable. I realized that although I’m leaving this place within the month, they are here for a YEAR! I really feel for them, and for their families. I am truly thankful that my time here has been relatively short.
My unfulfilled expectation of leaving soon is the problem, of course. One of the main reasons I have dedicated myself to living in the present moment, accepting life as it is rather than as I wish it were, is to counter the uncertainty of my departure from Kalsu. Then one day, I’m given the key to Pandora’s Box – a date I am supposed to leave! Try as I might, I could not resist setting my sights (and my heart) on that day, and counting down the days to my departure. Now that is gone, and I suffer the inevitable disappointment of living by my expectations rather than accepting life as it comes.
An interesting aspect of being “down” is that it gives meaning to being “up.” If I were in the same mood all the time, whether I called it “good” or “bad,” life would be awfully tedious. I like this idea of complementary states, whether they are emotional – good/bad, happy/sad, love/hate – or physical – light/dark, hot/cold, hard/soft. Neither state can exist without the other and have any meaning.
This process of dichotomizing can be taken to extremes by declaring the choice to be either/or. That is, believing a thing, person, or idea must be one at the expense of being the other. This gives rise to simplistic rhetoric such as “we’re going to destroy evil in the world” and “if you’re not with us, you’re against us.” If we are good and we destroy all evil, how can we be good any more? Such a binary, “black and white” view of the world disdains shades of gray - the balance and blending of the two extremes.
This idea of complementary pairs of balanced and interdependent states is a central tenet of Taoist philosophy: yin and yang. Within each is the seed of the other, and together they form a whole. As Lao Tzu says in the Tao te Ching, “the myriad creatures carry upon their backs the yin and embrace in their arms the yang, and are the blending of the generative forces of the two.” Life is both/and, not either/or.
Any state can be divided again and again – for example, within the yin of “hot” there are the yin and yang of “very hot” and “warm.” Taken far enough, this process results in a continuum, rather than a stark series of either/or choices. Bend the continuum into a circle, and “before and after follow each other” – have you ever felt like ice cold water was burning hot?
And so I have come full circle, from joy to despair and back to joy – so this is the end of The Kalsu Blues.
Until next time…
posted by Greg at 2/11/2005 11:28:00 AM
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