thedrifter
04-04-07, 09:45 AM
Posted on Wed, Apr. 04, 2007
Marine finds peace in music
JOHN MATTHEW BISHOP
Pressing my head to the window, I gazed upon the desert below. It stretched out in the peaceful repose that all things, no matter how violent or chaotic, assume when viewed from a great height.
Only two hours prior, my boots, along with those of the 200 other Camp Lejeune-based Marines of Anti-Terrorism Battalion, had been firmly planted on that same Iraqi sand. Now it seemed so peaceful and still, which left me vainly trying to reconcile it with the reality I had experienced, a reality of thumping helicopters, deep rumbling explosions and crackling gunfire during all hours of the day and night.
Contradictory worlds
Trying to put these different worlds together in my mind left me feeling deeply confused, as I had felt so many times before, about how contradictory our world was, how such light and darkness could coexist around us and within us.All Marines struggle to find a balance between the light and the darkness, between our jobs and ourselves. Aside from the actual business of fighting in hostile, remote corners of the world, the most difficult challenge we face is striking a balance between the competing demands of wartime military service, our friends and families, and our own needs.
As Marines, we're trained to be the "tip of the spear" in America's wars -- quite simply, it is our job to kill those who oppose the American people's will, whatever that will is and wherever it takes us. Ours is an unequivocally ugly business, and as such it requires that we be fortified mentally and psychologically in ways that civilians might find shocking or distasteful.
It becomes necessary to separate the two sides of ourselves. While we want our friends and family to continue understanding and loving us as the good, kindhearted kids they raised, training for and participating in combat hardens us in ways they might find difficult to understand. Consequently, we learn to segregate from our family and friends the grittier, darker side of ourselves which has evolved in response to the unique demands of our job.
This is why civilians commonly understand Marines to be well-mannered, clean-cut American boys, while Marines commonly understand Marines to be more or less barbarians.
We come back from lengthy deployments maladjusted to dealing with loved ones. A common complaint among ex-wives is that they grew tired of being treated like Marines by husbands who were as much pit bulls as they were men. So widespread is this that upon returning from Iraq, all of us without exception attend compulsory classes to relearn how to interact with families and friends, just as brain-trauma patients might relearn the simple abilities that they formerly took for granted.
In search of culture
Not too long ago, I took leave from the remote, swampy coast of North Carolina where my unit is stationed and spent a few days in Atlanta, which I consider home.
As always, I was excited about the prospect of the art, music and culture to be found in a major urban area. A passionate lover of classical music, I have found it an unfortunate reality that in most military towns, while strip clubs and tattoo parlors flourish in great abundance, classical music doesn't thrive so easily. So I immediately looked through the entertainment listings until I found a concert being given by the Vega String Quartet, a resident performing group at Emory University. They would be performing J.S. Bach's Cello Suite No. 5 that very evening.
At 8 o'clock, I sat in an audience of well-dressed, quietly murmuring people. As the lights dimmed, the audience hushed and all eyes turned to Yinzi Kong, one of the four musicians. The rich sounds she coaxed from her viola caressed the audience.
Beauty, then connection
There are some sounds that seem like the voice of God himself -- such is the effortless grace with which they unburden you of your troubles. Moments of such arresting beauty transport us from the chaos of life and allow us to peer down upon it impersonally, because for just a moment, we no longer exist in the fray, but rather observe it from a more rarefied air, like some lone bird surveying a distant valley from its mountain aerie.
And during moments like these, we find the balance that has been lost on the battlefield. We let our guard down and remember who we are. When Vega's performance was over, everyone in the audience stood in acknowledgment of something great and timeless, and for the first time in a long while, I felt connected to my fellow human beings.
This article has its origins in a letter of gratitude that I sent the next morning to Vega. In a world of great darkness and profound light, we must remember that all of us, Marines and civilians alike, have a balance to maintain, and that we must find a way to give those around us the best parts of ourselves.
Ellie
Marine finds peace in music
JOHN MATTHEW BISHOP
Pressing my head to the window, I gazed upon the desert below. It stretched out in the peaceful repose that all things, no matter how violent or chaotic, assume when viewed from a great height.
Only two hours prior, my boots, along with those of the 200 other Camp Lejeune-based Marines of Anti-Terrorism Battalion, had been firmly planted on that same Iraqi sand. Now it seemed so peaceful and still, which left me vainly trying to reconcile it with the reality I had experienced, a reality of thumping helicopters, deep rumbling explosions and crackling gunfire during all hours of the day and night.
Contradictory worlds
Trying to put these different worlds together in my mind left me feeling deeply confused, as I had felt so many times before, about how contradictory our world was, how such light and darkness could coexist around us and within us.All Marines struggle to find a balance between the light and the darkness, between our jobs and ourselves. Aside from the actual business of fighting in hostile, remote corners of the world, the most difficult challenge we face is striking a balance between the competing demands of wartime military service, our friends and families, and our own needs.
As Marines, we're trained to be the "tip of the spear" in America's wars -- quite simply, it is our job to kill those who oppose the American people's will, whatever that will is and wherever it takes us. Ours is an unequivocally ugly business, and as such it requires that we be fortified mentally and psychologically in ways that civilians might find shocking or distasteful.
It becomes necessary to separate the two sides of ourselves. While we want our friends and family to continue understanding and loving us as the good, kindhearted kids they raised, training for and participating in combat hardens us in ways they might find difficult to understand. Consequently, we learn to segregate from our family and friends the grittier, darker side of ourselves which has evolved in response to the unique demands of our job.
This is why civilians commonly understand Marines to be well-mannered, clean-cut American boys, while Marines commonly understand Marines to be more or less barbarians.
We come back from lengthy deployments maladjusted to dealing with loved ones. A common complaint among ex-wives is that they grew tired of being treated like Marines by husbands who were as much pit bulls as they were men. So widespread is this that upon returning from Iraq, all of us without exception attend compulsory classes to relearn how to interact with families and friends, just as brain-trauma patients might relearn the simple abilities that they formerly took for granted.
In search of culture
Not too long ago, I took leave from the remote, swampy coast of North Carolina where my unit is stationed and spent a few days in Atlanta, which I consider home.
As always, I was excited about the prospect of the art, music and culture to be found in a major urban area. A passionate lover of classical music, I have found it an unfortunate reality that in most military towns, while strip clubs and tattoo parlors flourish in great abundance, classical music doesn't thrive so easily. So I immediately looked through the entertainment listings until I found a concert being given by the Vega String Quartet, a resident performing group at Emory University. They would be performing J.S. Bach's Cello Suite No. 5 that very evening.
At 8 o'clock, I sat in an audience of well-dressed, quietly murmuring people. As the lights dimmed, the audience hushed and all eyes turned to Yinzi Kong, one of the four musicians. The rich sounds she coaxed from her viola caressed the audience.
Beauty, then connection
There are some sounds that seem like the voice of God himself -- such is the effortless grace with which they unburden you of your troubles. Moments of such arresting beauty transport us from the chaos of life and allow us to peer down upon it impersonally, because for just a moment, we no longer exist in the fray, but rather observe it from a more rarefied air, like some lone bird surveying a distant valley from its mountain aerie.
And during moments like these, we find the balance that has been lost on the battlefield. We let our guard down and remember who we are. When Vega's performance was over, everyone in the audience stood in acknowledgment of something great and timeless, and for the first time in a long while, I felt connected to my fellow human beings.
This article has its origins in a letter of gratitude that I sent the next morning to Vega. In a world of great darkness and profound light, we must remember that all of us, Marines and civilians alike, have a balance to maintain, and that we must find a way to give those around us the best parts of ourselves.
Ellie