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see the world… from a different angle

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As I sit here on Thanksgiving, missing my friends and family, I am thankful for the lessons I have been taught on seeing the bigger picture. I am thankful for the opportunity to be away from home today.

I am climbing. I am no longer looking up at the daunting task ahead. I am in it. The journey is not some ambiguous story of future endeavors. I wake up everyday and get to work. I am an Airman.

It is a small change in title, but the ultimate destination will find me in a world I could not have ever imagined as a child. Occasionally I get caught off guard by the magnificence of the things that are going on around me. I go in to work, walk past three mission ready helicopters with crews ready, to save lives. I walk into a hanger with men and women working tooth and nail, day in and day out.

Last week I got to refuel a helicopter that remained powered up because it was engaged in a mission. I got to sit in the cockpit as another was pulled out to the launch pad. All without really recognizing the immensity of what those small tasks were adding toward.

But really, this is all just the secondary part of my day. The true daily honor is the moment I stand before the heros who are training us. The Rescue Swimmers. The moment I get put in the leaning rest position, ready to do however many push-ups they deem appropriate. The moment I enter the pool in the morning and do a warmup 500. The moment when I hit exhaustion, and it is demanded that I sprint down, and underwater back. The honor is mine, to be molded. To become what I believe I can be. To become what they are training me to be.

It is far from easy. There are many moments when I don’t want to do what is asked of me. When I don’t want to do another push-up. When I dont want to get in the cold water. When I don’t want to hold my breath any longer… But then you do it anyway. You see the world from a different angle. From the future looking back, what do you want to say of yourself. From under the water looking up, what do you want to know of yourself. From inside the helicopter looking down, what can you do for the world.

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But I didn’t…

I wish I would have. But I didn’t. I didn’t want to. I
didn’t think. I didn’t think I needed to. I didn’t think I could
have or should have. It wasn’t a failure to act, it was a decision
not to. So the phone rang unanswered. The coffee shop went
unvisited. The text message “I’m sorry…” was never sent. A
postcard earned no postage. A smile was not given. A happy memory
went unreminisced. She walked out. He moved on. They
passed.

 
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Posted by on February 24, 2011 in blocks..., life, love

 

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…Pampy’s rocks and tunnels:)

Graduation hadn’t been but a couple of days, yet already it seemed ages ago. Life was blowing thru the young man’s hands as he stood on the back balcony of the train. The passenger cabin was far enough back from the engines to smell the burn of coal in the air.

He wasn’t Pampy back in these days though. To the world surrounding his young eyes, he was Sol. His smile was not as innocent as it was before the war, and he looked and felt much older than he really was. The swift gust of air and the depth of blackness of the tunnels put a grin on his face. Traveling by train is always a bit more of an adventure. The tunnel passed and Sol made his way back into the cabin. The windows were down, so the fresh air of the oncoming mountains filled the cabin.

He was nervous, and his fellow passengers could sense it. The man sitting next to him was a shoe keeper from Paris and had seen the apprehension in young Sol’s eyes, “Détendez ! C’est des vacances!” he would say, telling him to realax, enjoy the vacation!

The sun was shining and the air was getting cool. Sol’s ears popped incessantly for the next two days. His eyes gazed out to the tops of what began the French Alps. He winced up at the sun out the window, and with another sudden gust of air and pitch darkness, a grin spread across his face. “C’est des vacances…” he told himself… “…c’est des vacances…”

 

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…& to roadstops.

They aren’t always monumental and they aren’t all boring.  When stubbed toes land a seat on a sun soaked stump in the woods, thats a roadstop. The first gas station after a flat. A nice pair of flip flops, sandy and worn. A winter getaway with the ones who earn spots in the heart. The roadstops one demand is attention. Just attention will due for the roadstop… but what is offered in return… the ease of the soul. The deep breath of mountain air. A shy smile. A captivated self. These are prizes that are truly ones own. Ones own to capture in memory however they so please.

 
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Posted by on December 19, 2010 in Introduction

 

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…to blocks.

Always in the way without ration or reason. The dream is always diminished by the negativity. The energy cannot be hollowed any more than by they that are. They being the hate, the anger, the rationale. Without they who call themselves upstanding, the true people of the republic would have no advisory. It is with that, that one can offer the significance of their role. Their utter arrogance enrages the populace of the people, to such a level, that revolt cannot be avoided. Change is in order, and it is all due…

 
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Posted by on December 18, 2010 in Introduction

 

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…to rocks.

Suit for building in fact. A place to set a steady bed to rest a steady head. Never moving. The foundation’s very foundation in fact. Its hard to set anchor in a lot of things through life. The feet always seem to be moving on top of them damn rocks so fast. With out notice to the actual wear of a tire. Until one day a park gets in the way. A stubborn park drive with a bunch of stubborn rocks surrounded by some pesky trees.

The study of rocks is after all only the notice of wear. The wear of years and the wear of weather. The wear…

 
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Posted by on December 15, 2010 in Introduction

 

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