Once again the yellow leaves of Avalon fall. . . and the crisp air that brings them death walks with invigorating life to my silenced soul. . . for always you come in the autumn, bringing with you beauty and love. A compassion known only to myself and a warmth of spirit that places you above all else in my dreams. You fill me with your touch and I am satisfied at the very brush of your hand. The warmth of your embrace brings light for I know that I am wanted.
-Don Santiago Cabellero de las Ordas y Trujillo y Tenorio -
Friday, June 8, 2007
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Summer Romance
I see your face in the pink light of the setting sun. . . the great craggy peaks behind you . . .two tears in your eye. . .one for a love lost. . . a love unconditional that sweeps through you in a whirling mass of disarray. The other for the happiness of a lover found, found going his way, seeking the light of another dawn, seeking the greatness locked up inside his soul.
The bittersweet sensations run through your body and happiness engulfs even as sadness consumes. Yet in you there is peace. . .peace in your face, peace in you eyes, and peace in your soul, for you have experienced love. . . a true love, a love that is unconditional, a love that is selfless, a love that is full of all that is good in life, and peace fills you as you realise the new found capacity of your heart. . .
-Don Santiago Cabellero de las Ordas y Trujillo y Tenorio -
The bittersweet sensations run through your body and happiness engulfs even as sadness consumes. Yet in you there is peace. . .peace in your face, peace in you eyes, and peace in your soul, for you have experienced love. . . a true love, a love that is unconditional, a love that is selfless, a love that is full of all that is good in life, and peace fills you as you realise the new found capacity of your heart. . .
-Don Santiago Cabellero de las Ordas y Trujillo y Tenorio -
Wave Dancing. . .
I spent the evening several nights ago at the beach, dacing in the glimmering silver glow of a full moon. . . listening to the waves beat against the shore in a hypnotic symphony. . .whilst I tasted the salt air. Yet my heart, while as full as the those of the elves of the west. . . . ached of loneliness only known by those same beautiful creatures. The sadness of a thousand years away from the light of love crept upon me while I danced, and my heart, was heavy like unto the ships who venture too close to the beautiful sound of a sirens song and there meet thier demise only to be rememberd as fools who wagered all for the sake of shallow love. Despite such a legacy I would gladly navigate those waters if only for to hear the melody and experience the beauty that touches ones soul when ears are blessed with the songs of venus.
-Don Santiago Cabellero de las Ordas y Trujillo y Tenorio -
-Don Santiago Cabellero de las Ordas y Trujillo y Tenorio -
The Road Less Traveled
In every life there are crossroads of unparalleled magnitude, though we seldom recognize them while we stare endlessly down paths not yet traveled. Like Robert Frost I found myself at the crossroads staring down the road less traveled during the school year of 1995-96. I was a cadet at the United States Air Force Academy Prep School and was on the path to a bright future as a USAFA cadet and eventually an officer in the Air Force. I had worked extremely hard to get where I was. Only a select few would ever walk up the famous “Bring Me Men” ramp and across the terrazzo. I was chosen to be one of the select few.
An academy education is by far the most mentally stimulating, athletically challenging, and emotionally taxing, experience that one can have as an undergraduate. Furthermore, the credentials earned at a service academy may well promise a smooth career in the Department of Defense and opportunities abounding on the “outside.” Every cadet is continually made aware of his or her special status as an elite member of American society. Even Harvard could not lay claim to the individuals who I stood in the midst of.
These were the Jack Kennedys of our day. No one in my squadron graduated high school holding less then two distinctions of fame - valedictorian, captain of the football team, and even a PJ, the Air Force’s elite red berets. Yet here was I, nothing special to look at, a scrawny buck fifty-five with a 2.79 GPA and no more math then algebra. It was apparent to me that affirmative action must have had something to do with such a cruel scenario. Nevertheless, I would prove myself as valuable a cadet as the next before choosing other paths.
From the outset I was the underdog. Watching a steam engine creep up Pikes Peak one could get an idea of this undertaking. Fortunately we cannot see our selves in the third person. All that was visible to me was the path ahead and the road went up.
I struggled tirelessly through basic training and beyond; a strict daily regiment of five hours of athletics, two math classes, English, Science, and constant military training. The math was grueling to a lad who hated numbers. In one year I went from Algebra to Calculus and took Chemistry and Physics. My comrades had all see this stuff in high school, to them it was review. I stayed up hours past retreat studying by the red lens of my flashlight. But I was learning and I wasn’t to be beaten.
Math and Physics tutoring were a daily routine during my free time, which at USAFA always seems to be a poorly written joke. I brushed up on marching during mail call and running skills were improved by sticking with the PJ’s. Though it was evidenced on a daily basis that my stomach was not capable of the workouts theirs were. But in the end my squadron won the marching competitions and I wasn’t seen as a liability, I was chosen to serve on the Honor Court as an officer in the cadet chain of command, and finally my grades reached a point where I could compare with the others.
And so I stared down the crossroads. . .
In November of My Senior Year in High school I was baptized into the LDS Church. It was 180-degree shift from life just months before. Yet I wasn’t overly exuberant about religion, rather I simply committed to live a higher standard. Love God, Love your Neighbor, a simple philosophy right? The complexities of such a life soon became self-evident. Nevertheless, I was committed. While others spent weekends swimming in pools of alcohol I went hiking and volunteered at the homeless shelter. It was at a conference for young single adults that I learned of my opportunity to serve as a missionary. It tugged at me like the nagging child who begs for a just one piece of chocolate. I felt the desire to give something back, something I had been given. I searched my soul and prayed about it for three months, learning that wrestling with God . . .was more like wrestling with yourself. The answer was resolute. Go serve a mission!
The military is an interesting place of rules and procedures. The cadet chaplain’s office notified me that were I but a year younger I could take a sabbatical after my second year and then return to complete my education. My age had disqualified me and a waiver was denied. Now the crossroads were evident. If I received an appointment as a cadet and turned it down not only would my family disown me, but also I would render myself disqualified for later commissioning. I could walk away from my goal of obtaining a commission or I could deny my God and continue in the course.
Star Trek of all things provided the answer. James T. Kirk the man who made his own rules: when the game is set for a certain loss, you simply change the rules. It was here that I learned to maneuver and think outside of the box. I wagered that I could have my cake and eat it too if I let my grades slip just enough to preclude me from an appointment and still receive a ROTC Scholarship. The thresh hold for such a stunt was small, if I dipped to low I would be discharged from school and not graduate or I would pull it off and It would allow me to serve a mission, pay for college, and keep my parents appeased. I knew I had become Icarus and wasn’t certain I could hold such a course as mediocrity was not one of my strong points. This Game of rulette would require me to do something that I felt I would forever be ashamed of. Quit!
But could I do that. It was gut wrenching to think I would have to simply stop right at the top of the mountain to not go the distance. The logic was backwards. I was blinded by the view of life’s choices as a zero sum game. I almost didn’t do it. In the end my desire to sere God before Country won and, I closed my eyes and leapt from the cliff of uncertainty with the expectation that there was a ledge just four feet below. It worked! I graduated with my class, received a letter of recommendation for ROTC, an Honorable Discharge and served a mission. I no longer regret my decision. The experiences I gained have far outweighed the choice I made. The experience taught me that we needn’t follow the paths laid out for us. It is far better that we make our own roads as we go. And so, unlike Robert Frost, I took the road less traveled.
An academy education is by far the most mentally stimulating, athletically challenging, and emotionally taxing, experience that one can have as an undergraduate. Furthermore, the credentials earned at a service academy may well promise a smooth career in the Department of Defense and opportunities abounding on the “outside.” Every cadet is continually made aware of his or her special status as an elite member of American society. Even Harvard could not lay claim to the individuals who I stood in the midst of.
These were the Jack Kennedys of our day. No one in my squadron graduated high school holding less then two distinctions of fame - valedictorian, captain of the football team, and even a PJ, the Air Force’s elite red berets. Yet here was I, nothing special to look at, a scrawny buck fifty-five with a 2.79 GPA and no more math then algebra. It was apparent to me that affirmative action must have had something to do with such a cruel scenario. Nevertheless, I would prove myself as valuable a cadet as the next before choosing other paths.
From the outset I was the underdog. Watching a steam engine creep up Pikes Peak one could get an idea of this undertaking. Fortunately we cannot see our selves in the third person. All that was visible to me was the path ahead and the road went up.
I struggled tirelessly through basic training and beyond; a strict daily regiment of five hours of athletics, two math classes, English, Science, and constant military training. The math was grueling to a lad who hated numbers. In one year I went from Algebra to Calculus and took Chemistry and Physics. My comrades had all see this stuff in high school, to them it was review. I stayed up hours past retreat studying by the red lens of my flashlight. But I was learning and I wasn’t to be beaten.
Math and Physics tutoring were a daily routine during my free time, which at USAFA always seems to be a poorly written joke. I brushed up on marching during mail call and running skills were improved by sticking with the PJ’s. Though it was evidenced on a daily basis that my stomach was not capable of the workouts theirs were. But in the end my squadron won the marching competitions and I wasn’t seen as a liability, I was chosen to serve on the Honor Court as an officer in the cadet chain of command, and finally my grades reached a point where I could compare with the others.
And so I stared down the crossroads. . .
In November of My Senior Year in High school I was baptized into the LDS Church. It was 180-degree shift from life just months before. Yet I wasn’t overly exuberant about religion, rather I simply committed to live a higher standard. Love God, Love your Neighbor, a simple philosophy right? The complexities of such a life soon became self-evident. Nevertheless, I was committed. While others spent weekends swimming in pools of alcohol I went hiking and volunteered at the homeless shelter. It was at a conference for young single adults that I learned of my opportunity to serve as a missionary. It tugged at me like the nagging child who begs for a just one piece of chocolate. I felt the desire to give something back, something I had been given. I searched my soul and prayed about it for three months, learning that wrestling with God . . .was more like wrestling with yourself. The answer was resolute. Go serve a mission!
The military is an interesting place of rules and procedures. The cadet chaplain’s office notified me that were I but a year younger I could take a sabbatical after my second year and then return to complete my education. My age had disqualified me and a waiver was denied. Now the crossroads were evident. If I received an appointment as a cadet and turned it down not only would my family disown me, but also I would render myself disqualified for later commissioning. I could walk away from my goal of obtaining a commission or I could deny my God and continue in the course.
Star Trek of all things provided the answer. James T. Kirk the man who made his own rules: when the game is set for a certain loss, you simply change the rules. It was here that I learned to maneuver and think outside of the box. I wagered that I could have my cake and eat it too if I let my grades slip just enough to preclude me from an appointment and still receive a ROTC Scholarship. The thresh hold for such a stunt was small, if I dipped to low I would be discharged from school and not graduate or I would pull it off and It would allow me to serve a mission, pay for college, and keep my parents appeased. I knew I had become Icarus and wasn’t certain I could hold such a course as mediocrity was not one of my strong points. This Game of rulette would require me to do something that I felt I would forever be ashamed of. Quit!
But could I do that. It was gut wrenching to think I would have to simply stop right at the top of the mountain to not go the distance. The logic was backwards. I was blinded by the view of life’s choices as a zero sum game. I almost didn’t do it. In the end my desire to sere God before Country won and, I closed my eyes and leapt from the cliff of uncertainty with the expectation that there was a ledge just four feet below. It worked! I graduated with my class, received a letter of recommendation for ROTC, an Honorable Discharge and served a mission. I no longer regret my decision. The experiences I gained have far outweighed the choice I made. The experience taught me that we needn’t follow the paths laid out for us. It is far better that we make our own roads as we go. And so, unlike Robert Frost, I took the road less traveled.
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