Have you ever given much thought to why you are who/what you are? Why you are in the line of work your in? Did you follow your passion or was the job just there and you adjusted your life to fit it? Why you chose the friends you have? What is it about them that makes you want to keep a friendship with them? Many people never ask themselves those questions. When we really think about them, and are honest with ourselves, it can be rather scary.

Where did you get the ideas to do the things you do? It is said that there are no new ideas, and everything you do has been done before by someone-some place-at some time. When we are born we have no idea what we want to do, somewhere along the line we have to get an idea that we act on and that becomes our path to whatever/whoever we become. Where did your idea come from?

Who we are is a good question because it has three answers for each of us. We are the person we think we are, (our own self-image, love it or hate it, it’s your choice). We are the person others think we are, (to them it’s their guide as to how they treat us). It only stands to reason that the person we really are is somewhere between the other two. Our self-image is what we strive to maintain and nourish with the choices we make in life. My mother coached me as I grew up, choose your friend carefully. Don’t judge them by what they say, but rather by who their friends are, because your friends are a mirror of who you really are.

As I meditate on my own life I realize many people set me on the path that led me to my computer to write this blog. There was the man fishing in the surf when I was five years old, and very excited, and frustrated, because I didn’t know what kind of fish I had just caught that set me on the path to be a teacher. I wrote about it in my book, (Life, according to Grandpa – The Fish).

A few years later five unknown boys narrowed my path to the ocean and an unknown news photographer made a mistake in an article he wrote. His mistake took me on an unrelated side road that totally changed and refocused my path in life for a few years. I returned to my original path because I realized that it was my passion and made it my freeway to a life worthwhile, and more fun than anyone deserves.

These people, (and many more), were my guides/inspiration that kept me on my path, and are responsible for who I am today. I wonder when and where I will meet my next guide and where he/she will lead me. There are so many doors in life that I have not yet opened and I’m excited with the expectation of what lies ahead.

I was fortunate, (1958), to walk with Sir Edmond Hillary on a hike in the Antarctic, and I vividly remember his words, “To rest is not to conquer”. I have not rested since that hike, and have no plans of resting in the future.

As I was watching and listened to President Trump give his speech at Arlington Cemetery today it brought back memories which I had buried somewhere in my memory archives, and pushed them to the front of my brain. I had to ask myself, why do we have wars? Everyone seems to have their own opinion based on their background. To me the reasons for most of the worlds’ wars fall into conflicts to do with territory, religion, and fear.

Looking even closer, most conflicts have to do with fear. We all have fear of being forced to lose any of these, our territory, our religion, or our freedom. We don’t want to lose anything we have, and fear not being able to get anything we think we need.

The country leaders treat war like a game. They decide what moves we must make to mitigate these fears. The militaries are pieces that move where the leaders tell them, like pieces on a chess board. It’s a giant board game to the ones orchestrating it. The difference is people suffer and die playing it. So why do they volunteer?

Why do we volunteer to possibly lay down our lives so the leaders can play the game of war? The answer is simple, fear. The soldier is driven by fear, not for themselves, but for the ones they love more than themselves. The families and friends that are at home. Who else is so important to them that they would put themselves in harm’s way?

They don’t hate or fear the enemy in front of them, they fight because they love and fear for the ones behind them. When the fears are alleviated, enemies become friends. We Americans are friends now with the Japanese and the Germans, who were once our greatest enemies. We don’t fear each other anymore.

When I take my walks late at night in the solitude of the darkness, things that I normally am able to suppress, seem to float back into my pondering, and I realize I don’t cry for the dead; I do, however, cry for the ones that were not part of the game and bore the suffering caused by it.

The wives that never had a hug from their husbands again, the children that never knew the love of a father, the parents that grew old and died without their son/daughter there to take care of them and say goodbye to, and the ones that came home and were severely handicapped the rest of their lives. These are the ones that truly suffer from wars. I still cry for them.