I believe in reincarnation, and I think I have been soldier many times. In this life, my use was–I think–elsewhere. I am fighting on another level.
But even though I have shared this rough theme several times, I am going to try it again, at least for my own use: the essence of soldiering is fear. You train because you rightly fear the enemy. You fear letting your comrades down. And you fight because you don’t want to die, not like that, not for want of effort or courage.
But war is ugly. Fighting is ugly. I feel sometimes in me, and I think I’ve mentioned this, this grizzled old soldier, cut in dozens of places, somewhat numb, but not someone you would ever want to fuck with. I’m not longer physically who I may once have been, but I feel what it would be like to know how to deal death, and to it reflexively and effectively anywhere it is needed, as long as it is needed.
And again as I think I’ve said before–I hate repeating myself, but my memory is good, but not perfect–there is nothing good in being a warrior, really. It is a sad life. There is so much pride presented in public because in reality it is nasty business. Mangled bodies, blood, fire, horrific smells, crying children, destroyed cities. Guilt, for those who are able to keep it, which is the best of them.
Value courage. Preach courage. Preach bravery and self sacrifice. Those are noble virtues. But I personally do not think we should value being a “warrior”. It is merely better than being a helpless coward, and useless bystander.
You cannot get to peace through war, ultimately. There are times when bad things need to be done by bad people, but as Lao Tzu taught 2,500 years ago, even successful wars should be mourned as funerals; and some shame should accrue to those who allowed the wars to be necessary.
I don’t really know what it means to be an “old soul”, but I think I have seen a lot.