Thank You For Not Reading
According to the wordpress stats, New Sodom has not been widely read, and it has received zero likes. Way to go and thank you.
I’ve thought a lot about that post, about why I wrote it. I wrote it because my life has been pretty great. If we measure it against the timeline of humanity on planet earth, it’s been arguably the best life ever lived. Air conditioning, food, water, unconditional love–these have never come close to running out. Plenty of us could say the same thing. But for whatever reason, this has never been enough for me. Like most veterans, I didn’t have to join the military. But I had to know what war was like (still don’t really know, but know I don’t want to know first-hand anymore). Like other manual laborers, I didn’t have to work with my body. But I had to know what it was like. I had to do these things.
At night, when I’m not thinking about what to buy, first, with my $33 from book sales, I picture you. I picture a reader who has come to trust that I’m giving Captain’s Log my best, and it turns out pretty good most of the time. But I believe a post like New Sodom should be written every once in a while because in the same way that I had to join the military and head to the oil fields, I can’t let myself (or you) forget that there are other ways to live on this planet. There are ways of living which do not hold hope dear, which do not treasure truth, respect, and love. There are ways of living which would destroy all human dignity in favor of selfishness and pride.
The pilots in the Air Force (among other military specialties I’m sure) train to perfection. By this I mean that no matter how hard I tried, I could not get anyone to show me the wrong way to perform a maneuver. Where I wanted to just see what it felt like to gain and lose hundreds of feet of altitude so that I could know the difference between incorrect and correct flying, my instructors stayed the course and held me to the previously developed standards. And once I held the standards, they raised the standards. And so on and so forth. But sometimes, in pursuit of perfection, perspective can fall by the wayside. Tempers can flare when professionalism should. That’s why I wrote New Sodom. Me and you, together we’ll get there. It’s just that sometimes I need to remind myself what happens if people like us give up. Maybe you don’t need the reminder. I do.
The only way to get there is together.