You Know the Things We Do...

You want freedom... but you don't want to serve.
You know, the things we do. You have those abilities to travel, to go shopping, shop for food. Your children are able to attend school.

You can go to work. You can attend meetings, get-togethers, perhaps religious services.

You want your time to read, study, write, or any other quiet time thing you do in the peace of your home. Your hospitals and schools are intact.

Yet, you. Yes you the posers complaining as you always have. Everything takes work, but you have yet to accept that truth about life. You have to serve someone, something. We all do, and that's life. That is our rent we pay for living on this earth.

However, you are unwilling to accept that life is just about that. Serving. Paying a debt for freedoms. You forget.

Humans are not that much more superior than our favored domestic animals. We still battle to survive, most of the time we just don't acknowledge it. Many of us in these United States have become oblivious to the basic needs in daily surviving. Reason being is because of decisions made, giving protection that lends freedom to us by others.

Remember... You know the things you do... Daily? You do them, those things mostly uninhibited by an outside source. You don't have someone taking away, threatening your freedom and all you've known. You are not forced to leave what you know. Neither heading to another country... Losing your identity. All your men eighteen to sixty years old separated from families, communities and the like.

Remember this the next time you order that coffee, and it's not arriving fast enough for you. Or the next time you drive somewhere, because you can. Or you're standing in the produce aisle of a food store. And you complain you hate to go foodshopping. If you don't remember your words. I know I will.----Jody-Lynn Reicher

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It Follows Me...

One may wonder what would inspire someone to work hard labor voluntarily. For me it’s the love of many things. It’s the passion that won’t be broken. Because there are so many aspects to such service for me, that it may seem beyond comprehension. I’d compare it to my youthful desire to enter the military as a young child. Then for a multitude of reasons only to follow through thirteen years later at age eighteen entering the Marines. There were things that followed me throughout my life. Sometimes they were questions of how I ever gave up my over decade’s life dream to become a New Jersey State Trooper. My childhood desire to never wed—to never have any serious relationships with another human being. I desired only service in military and law enforcement nearly my whole childhood. Too the extent that even one of my Marine Corps superiors expressed to me last July, “I never thought you’d ever get married. It just wasn’t who you were. You were always a loner.” I replied, “Yeah. I know.

Sledging the Hammer

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Death in the Distant Future...

Death in the Distant Future… Or at least that is what its supposed to be. We don’t suppose people should die at a certain age. We will witness suffering; but we know it gets better. So, we’ve been told. Or so, we have hope that it will. There are instances of mass tragedy. Sometimes we call that war—maybe insanity—perhaps terrorism… We have names for it, that type of death. Then there are the terminals. Things we think we can control—once we know the enemy within. Or things we follow, pray for, aim for. We hold hands for it. Or we choose to suffer with the suffering because it matters. And it doesn’t matter how it matters. Then there is some form of Universal Order. A tainted weird line of fate. Perhaps mathematically calculated in everyone’s existence. No matter how great, how menial a life on earth may appear there’s a geometric wave—a pattern. We can involve other mathematical ideologies—Fibonacci, perhaps. And each of our lives are formulas. Formulas appearing misundersto

Writing Reality

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