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WARRIORS- BORN OR BRED OR BOTH SOMETIMES ?
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From the start, I must say I'm far more interested in the answers readers offer to this one. I was taken aback by the number and kinds of responses generated by the 'introductory' post. People seemed genuinely interested in batting around the 7 ideas thrown out for discussion; nothing magic re the number 7. I've needed to get these reflections out of my system for a while. I ought confess that a woman friend threatened to pester me till I did, so.........
Some thoughts about warriors not seeming to have a choice in their path to begin. This is my personal experience. I'm hard pressed to remember anyone telling me it was different for them. Though I sensed it earlier, I was 12 years old when I experienced this undeniable, unpleasant awareness that I was marching to the beat of a different drummer. That didn't bother me as much as the awareness it wasn't going to change and wasn't negotiable. I had just finished draining the snake in my maternal grandparents bathroom. I heard the sobs of my brother and sisters, and angry words of my mother as she told my grandparents of my father's latest outrageous stunt. I have the most vivid memory of letting go of a big sigh, catching my stone face in the bathroom mirror. That was that. I just headed downstairs bypassed the drama, making a B-line for the punching bag in the basement.
Naturally, I have been visited by innumerable variations of this 'confirmation'. I don't know that I've ever wasted time being pissed off about it. I know I have never experienced joy or 'specialness' about it. As I got older I sighed less, switched to just shaking my head, sobbed in the woods a fair number of times. Now, I just sit with the awareness, till the unpleasantness passes. There has never been a sense of pride or good fortune. It's always felt like a burden. No words to describe it and until the last few years, no one to 'tell'. Maybe sometime in my late teens/early twenties I discovered albums and books, recognized something in movies here and there that brought enormous relief there were other 'minds' out there apparently living with the same deal. I felt less lonely.
I was determined to meet some of these people---the ones still alive anyway. Sure, I preferred it if they were alive but -hey- no complaints from me if they had died. At least I knew I wasn't out of my fucking mind-----a bit of concern since my family 'ruled' in the mental illness department. Within my family and up both sides, we had at least one representative for every diagnosis I knew of---and I knew most all of them. Irish genes !! If a family is gonna be good at something, might as well shoot for the moon (no joke--to this day--I have yet to run across a family with more impressively fucked up genetic loading).
These epiphanies were huge. Each one was accompanied by astonishment and silent tears. They started to come in the nick of time, when it seemed my back was breaking. I bit my tongue each time I heard someone yap out "The Lord fits the back to the burden" and "God never gives you more than you can carry". I discovered tongue biting didn't stop thoughts in my head that typically went something like so" "Shut the fuck up, you bastards are blind. How do you explain all the broken backs I see most every day not to mention the suicides.....oh, let's not forget "everything happens for a reason". Maybe so, but who needs your running commentary smiley face ? As I got older, such reactions ceased.
Now, I have made peace with what is as much as one can I guess. Thank God for books and albums. It helped as I became aware of ancient traditions and such. While I have felt a part of something, there has just been acceptance and relief. No excitement or 'honor' though I do feel honored to be alive. I can't recall when I latched onto the word 'warrior'. I don't feel comfortable with the word or any of the alternatives---guardians, whatever. Ah,(a revelation just now) maybe we replace warriors with 'Fu-Dogs'. About the only people familiar with 'Fu-Dogs' are the poor bastards in the 'club'. It's hard to feel anything but funny to refer to oneself as a 'Fu-Dog' (let's vote on this one.....).
Okay-Fu-Dogs---born, bred, or both ? Not long ago, Marc MacYoung expressed doubt that I was ever one to refuse to face a predator if innocents were involved. Maybe we were both surprised by my response. I protested: "Well, yeah dude but I never had a choice in the matter"!!! I didn't want him thinking I was some bad ass.
Well, my experience tells me we will identify a 'Fu-Dog' gene someday. So, there it's probably in the genes. But, like lots of things, life experiences are necessary-in some people anyway--to trip the switch. My name-"Kevin" means 'gentle' in Gaelic. I was hardly an ADHD wild man as a kid like my nephew, Patrick. He is fearless. I wasn't into fighting as a kid. I know as my life unfolded, things on the inside and out radically changed. I don't think I've ever felt like a tough guy or looked like one---but I don't get to see myself in martial situations. Over time, I became more aware of a Bear coming to life in me. Grumpier, jaded, vicious, ferocious---unhappy about it---until there is just this Bear. Not proud of it. Not happy about it. Do my best to hide it with dwindling success. It justs comes out when necessary. Every time it comes out the growl grows deeper. Where there used to be a distinction between 'it' and 'me', there is now just Bear when it comes out. The Bear isn't pleased when I tell it we have to behave and won't unleash him.
So, I it seems to me Fu-Dogs are born. Makes sense that some people require less of certain life experiences to start to growl. Most likely, Marc MacYoung (I have to use someone as a point of reference) needed fewer battles than me to cross the line. I believe there is a line one crosses. I believe martial experiences trip the genetic switch that breathes life into the Bear (or whatever animal one tends to be). It seems the frequency and seriousness of these martial experiences contributes to the size and disposition of the Bear. For my part, I must include dealings with 'petty tyrants in positions of power' as a type of martial experience. Maybe, such tyrants are like people who poke and prod caged animals. By themselves they represent no threat. However, when they become part of a powerful system---with the power of the State behind them, these petty tyrants may well have the ability to turn Gentle Ben into a rabid giant Grizzly.
So....for today I must say nature and 'nurture' each have a hand in the development of warriors-----Fu-Dogs. What say you ? and you? and you ?
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