BDA
The pitter-patter of the shower spirals my mind into a trance. As the water from the shower head sprays my vessel from head to toe, turned into the gunshot start for the ultra-marathon of words to come.
The day felt a bit longer than normal while I sought to regain situational awareness - a battle damage assessment (BDA) of myself from the day.
I was a bit worn out. Yet, it is nothing out of the ordinary when living life to the fullest with all kinds of experiences. Children. Friends. Work. The Wife.
My shoulders move in circles Up. Forward. Down. Backward. My spine is coiling. Left and right. My hips move in a figure-eight motion from above. Finally, settling down into a few forward folds touching my hands to the white plastic shower floor and enjoying the deep stretch.
Softly shutting my eyes closed, I inhale, trying to avoid water from entering my nose. My head dangling by my feet, holding my breath to the drip drops of water surrounding me. The oxygen in my lungs turns to carbon dioxide exiting my nostrils like a slow tire leak.
Shower time turned into a gift of quietness, reflection, and relaxation before resting my eyes for the day to come.
Living with junk wrapped around my brain for a long time caused an array of neurons to misfire, making it difficult to live life with peace and harmony.
A cleanse of the brain and gut synced the heart, spirit, and soul as one. Patching up murder holes and fighting positions with my bare hands. From a war, I was no longer in - both mentally and physically.
A set of questions pull me down a path about life. Who chooses option C? And why not A or B? Or is the story written already and the man behind the curtain orchestrates it all?
The irony of it all leaves me to believe that it does not matter all that much by nightfall, a gate that ends another day. Reflection. Review. Truth. How to be a better human for the day to come.
This whole essay is a chance to rhyme. A life of low tides, high tides, rip tides, and offshore breaks.
The idea that writing becomes easier and easier the more you do it is Bullshit. A game of imagination and locomotion of words being written in a crafty and creative way never gets easier.
Over time, the poet, painter, musician, and craftsman well runs dry and their hands, mind, and heart catch hyperthermia. Instantly, art becomes a fistfight with human nature.
Author, deep thinker, veteran, and brother-in-arms, Steven Pressfield helped place a c-4 charge on the door of endless possibilities for the future of the veteran writing community.
Pressfield shared the differences between theme, setting, subject, and character building on his social. He tied “theme” into everything he talked about when it came to storytelling and writing.
This quick reel left me analyzing my creative process. Is this a missing piece in my life and writing? What is the theme that I want to share and live by? New questions need to be disarmed.
The day was over, and night arrived. A chance to drift in and out of my own physical body and into the sea of the heart and mind.
The warm water continues to relax my muscles, exhaling slowly with sealed lips. Pausing for a few seconds before taking an even deeper inhale. Oxygen quickly rushes in finding new depths of my brain elevating my high.
My muse hanging overhead. Keeping her range with a watchful eye without attachment or judgement.
A recalibration and reset back to the present moment by the splashing of dancing water around. Noticing love is my theme in life.
The shower.
A tool.
A place to meditate.
To self-analyze.
Check-in.
A safe space for a
Battle Damage Assessment.
