Sticks in the wind

Just came back from dinner with a few friends, including a primary school friend whom I have not met for years. How time flies, and as it does, how it changes all we once knew to be cast iron reality, to something familiar yet totally different.

Once, I was idealistic, looking through rose-tinted glasses and ready to challenge the world. Once, I was driven, wanting to climb every ladder I came upon, determined to reach the top and be the best. Once, I had faith, that things would turn out right on their own in due course, and God would make sure of that.

Once, I was young. And how I've grown, matured, experienced what 19 years of life can throw at a person. Meeting up with an old friend, and seeing her cynicism at the system and life in general, I saw myself for a moment. She was so sure about getting that scholarship, sure she could score that A, that distinction, sure she would be the next success story based purely on her ability and drive. However, life has a way of taking away those things that seem to matter most to you, leaving you with what seems to be nothing. However it is only life's way of showing you something which matters more.

My friend may not have gotten those grades, that scholarship, but she has gained something more. The experience of such failure to attain her goals, only teaches one to accept and move on. With her type of drive and passion, I think she will go far in life, much farther than if she were bonded and stuck in a civil service job and led down a path which others have laid for her. She's a runaway locomotive, looking for tracks to guide her to the next stop.

Why do I see myself in her example? I have failed too and failure has shown me what matters more. Only difference being I'm already at the door, and looking at the DZ, ready to jump and knowing where to land. I may be disillusioned at times, not being able to see my objective which may be covered by clouds of self-doubt. I may be blown off course by the winds of necessity, when change will force me to alter my course. But the dream of being able to reach out and touch someone and give hope to those who feel they are forsaken, to "protect the weak, spur the faint-hearted, curb the unruly..." (If the 01 Oath of Responsibility becomes a guiding principle in our lives, the world will be a better place), will be my personal compass, that true North which will never shift, and which will put me on the path to my DZ.

"Sticks in the wind" is a signal given to airborne troops to jump, taking that leap into the wild blue, stepping off the only solid ground, the only reality we have known, putting all we have to gamble that the chute will open, that the wind wouldn't be too strong, that cloud cover won't be too heavy on that day, that the DZ is still within range. Taking that step out the plane, putting all we have on the line for that one chance to reach our goal, may seem too much to lose. But hey, how can one ever hope to fly without being prepared to take a fall first?

Give me the green light, I won't freeze at the door.

Don

Charlie Mike

Charlie Mike, or CM, or in military lingo, Carry on Mission. It means that an objective has not been met, but that the mission has to carry on anyway. Two weeks passed again, but what an eventful two weeks it has been. No longer is the A level results looming over my head, and the prospect of not passing out a threat hanging over me. I got my results, and I'm now a private.

But, there's a reason that I'm doing a Charlie Mike. Results weren't great, B, B, C, C and a disappointing B4 for GP. Definitely takes scholarships out of my grasp, and at first when receiving the results, that overwhelming sense of disappointment in not meeting expectations hit me. That same night, after receiving my results, I had to book in back to camp after again, failing on that same morning my Standard Obstacle Course by a timing of 10:48, 18 seconds too late, despite the best run of my life at the end. 4 March 2005, will remain as the lowest point in my life for quite some time.

Booking in at 1930, Sergeant gave me a quizzical look. The time to book in was 2100, I was way too early and recruits NEVER book in so early. But when he found out it was due to results, all he gave was an understanding look on his face, and these three words of wisdom. Life goes on. I got into an empty bunk, dumped my stuff one corner, got on my bed and stared at the whirring fan right above me.

Life never stood still until that moment. My mind just kept flashing back to the moment I picked up that result slip, and staring at it blankly. The pain of receiving the dismal results repeated itself, over and over again, each time piercing harder into me. My thoughts seemed so fixated on that moment, that it stopped time itself. I was so deep in depression if anyone read my diary entry on that day, they would probably think I was already doing my airborne course, without a parachute. I went as far as writing a last letter, the type which family and friends receive posthumously. Then, the whirring of the fans caught my eye. They kept moving, were moving all the time, and will continue to move. In a half-depressed. mostly maniacal mood, my interpretation of the fans moving was this.

Life goes on.

Despite what happens, when the shit hits the fan or when you're in a bed of roses, time still continues. And if there's one thing I picked up in 9 weeks of being a commando trainee, it's that when you feel drained or stumble and fall, you pick yourself up and move on. Every moment you may feel like you're dying, or that you cannot continue anymore, you remind yourself of one thing. You're not dead yet, and while you're still alive and can will yourself to stand on your own two feet, you keep moving until those legs give in, not when your mind wants to give up.

I accept defeat, but not surrender. It's in my character now, and soon I hope I can imprint that on my genetic code as well. The results may suck a whole lot, but it's over and I can't afford to sit down and moan about it. Maybe it's a blessing in disguise, allowing me to focus more on my mission in life, rather than trying to climb the ladder. My sights are now set on signing on, and doing well enough to qualify me for an overseas mission, and for this, I accept nothing but success.

Passing out today, I have moved out of a phase in life. No longer am I watching the front and waiting. No longer sitting in a foxhole, waiting. I'm out, charging into the future, and giving it the best run i can. It's all, and nothing not accepted.

In "The Last Samurai", just before they move in for a suicidal frontal charge, a "Pickett Charge" against a superior force, someone asked "Do you believe a man can change his destiny?"

The reply? "I believe a man does what he can, until his destiny is revealed." Life is just like that, a charge into an end, which we do not see yet. But it's not about the end that matters. It's the journey, and I'm walking it the way I feel is best. I may be breathing hard, feeling the weight on my shoulders, and the sweat trickling down my face. I may stumble, may even fall. But I'm determined to do one thing. Charlie Mike.

Don