protecting my children

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Just about the time I got used to the fact that my younger son exited the womb at 10 pounds, 11 ounces, a letter for him arrived yesterday addressed to "Pvt." It was the first concrete evidence I had seen that, yes, he was now a (untrained and very junior) member of the National Guard. It is something he had wanted to do for a long time and now ... now what? Basic training is scheduled for February.

Aside from the soul-killing potential inherent in military life and aside from the grow-up potential in military training, I guess what makes me nervous is what makes every parent nervous ... I can no longer protect him. An eighteen-year habit of being on the alert for what might harm him is melted in an instant in the recognition that life lies outside the boundaries of my protection and control. There is a part of me that rejoices in choice; there is a part of me that hates being informed that my virtuous habits can piss up a rope.

In the fourth chapter (I seem to recall) of the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna encourages the archer Arjuna to perfect his work as a warrior. This has confounded the minds of many who have done what they could to rein in violence and bloodshed in pursuit of a peaceful life: Here is 'god' telling one man to do what he has advised others to refrain from.

I do not lay claim to the actuality of such a view, but I credit it: Do what you do well. Never stop investigating. Burn completely. Beginning anywhere and at any time and with any tools, dive to the bottom of the universe. Do one thing completely and all else is complete. Burn completely ... no more ashes.

Can I protect my children? No.

Do I hate it? You bet your ass I do.

I light incense.
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