Drivin' Down the Road Having a Vision Quest

"Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified, is not a crime. Ask the infantry and ask the dead." -Ernest Hemingway

I found myself silently contemplating Hemingway as I motored through Seney Michigan and crossed the Fox River a few weeks past. The story goes that the Fox was the actual location for the setting of Hemingway's classic short story, "Big Two-Hearted River." The story discusses a disillusioned and wounded soldier who embarks on a somewhat vision quest of a camping and fishing trip in the northern Michigan woods. I would recommend at this point you write down a note to self to take the time to read this story if for no other reason than to try to understand what it would mean to seek peace and a sense of balance after having your soul traumatized by war. After all, there is a lot of our family and neighbors returning to us having experienced first hand these experiences.

A quiet and peaceful break was part of my reason for being in this part of Michigan, and since silent contemplation seems to be one of my true talents, something that is not easily judged, I am often lead down paths of wonder. In fact, this is how this post came about, wondering about my world on a mini "vision quest while driving down the road" in remote Schoolcraft County. I was specifically remembering the above quote and was formulating how you can "ask the dead" so very many of the questions that we face or the adversarial encounters we experience, and mine from them their collective knowledge. Or, as our parents used to tell us, to learn from our mistakes. We can also learn from the collective wisdom and observations of historical, literary, family, mythical, and anyone else who either wrote down, spoke, carved or painted on a cave wall, or similarly have shared their thoughts (and often their mistakes).

As George Harrison said, "We can gain experience from the past, but we can't relive it." In my experience, the past is filled with everything I failed to be as well as all I have succeeded at. I realized in my mini vision quest that in order for me to move forward I needed to let all that "stuff" die--both the good and the bad--so that I can be free to live now and keep inventing this gift of life that I have been granted. Every time I visit my past it cuts me somehow. It seems overly endowed with very sharp edges. And I have been fortunate to not have experienced the trauma of war. What sharp edges must cut at those who have.

As John Buchan so well stated: "We can pay our debt to the past by putting the future in debt to ourselves." Basically, throw away the present and future by dwelling on the past.