Dancing for freedom

I work at a dance studio in Manhattan.  Most of my day is spent sitting behind the front desk doing menial tasks and looking at other people's posts on Facebook.  Sometimes it is not exactly an inspiring job.  However, sometimes there will be an occasion so wonderful, so beautiful that makes the waiting worth while, and redeems the occupation.  I am talking about human connections.  One on one conversation that let me see a little piece of another person's soul.  These are rare enough so I have to really treasure them when they come along.
Today proved to have one of these occasions when Nick, a regular in one of the classes, came in early.  After chatting aimlessly for a minute or two, he told me a story that I just can't get out of my head.  His son is in the Marines, on his first tour in Afghanistan.  With three years left of active duty, he is beginning to realize just how much of a commitment he has taken on.  There is no front over there, and they live in constant fear of the unknown.  Morale is not always great because the enemy is so intangible, it is hard for them to see that they are making any progress at all.  There is no way to know when you or someone in your squad will be killed.
All of these worries came into reality when Sgt William C Stacey, squadron commander of Nick's son's unit, but also his best friend, was killed by an explosion.  It is even more poignant because they had just switched places a couple of minutes prior.  Had they not made that last minute decision, Nick's son would have died instead. All the Marines keep in their pocket a letter of last words in case they die during a mission.  Sgt. Stacey's parents decided to have his beautiful letter published.  This is what he wrote: "My death did not change the world; it may be tough for you to justify its meaning at all. But there is a greater meaning to it. Perhaps I did not change the world. Perhaps there is still injustice in the world. But there will be a child who will live because men left the security they enjoyed in their home country to come to his. And this child will learn in the new schools that have been built. He will walk his streets not worried about whether or not his leader's henchmen are going to come and kidnap him. He will grow into a fine man who will pursue every opportunity his heart could desire. He will have the gift of freedom, which I have enjoyed for so long. If my life buys the safety of a child who will one day change this world, then I know that it was all worth it.

Semper Fidelis means always faithful. Always faithful to God, Country and Corps. Always faithful to the principles and beliefs that guided me into the service. And on that day in October when I placed my hand on a bible and swore to defend the constitution of the United States against all enemies foreign and domestic, I meant it."
Now, I don't believe in war.  I believe in peace, love, and understanding.  I believe that there are so many ways to solve problems, and that war only breeds more war.  It is difficult to reconcile my day to day difficulties with the sacrifices that people are making on the other side of the globe in the name of freedom.  But let's not get into politics just now.
I am a firm believer in the power of intention- holding love in your heart until it just seeps out and is available to everyone.  The power of believing that you can make a difference, and the wisdom that every choice you make will affect those around you.
When Nick's son went into the Marines, he found that he was also in the Marines by extension- experiencing the pangs of dread and fear for his son and all those around him.  And he told me that he comes to dance class every day because the children under the absolute authority of the Taliban are not allowed to dance.  He dances for those who cannot.
Let us keep this love alive and spread it.  Let every single action we do be an act of love and dedication for those who are not free.
This is story of true passion!

Inspired by the dream of Martin Luther King, Jr.

Withering flowers with fallen brown petals
Taken over by weeds rudely choking
The dry earth sharp sun beams like torches are burning
Wind ripping the life off my dreams

This once was a garden of flourishing dreams
With a harvest that nourished my soul
I'd bring a watering can everyday and feed gently
My dreams as they blossomed in full

There were daisies, pink roses, carrots and peaches
Peppers and squash near the fountain
Dreams of a future vivacious and plentiful
Overflowing in my garden of hope

But one day I ventured to water the garden
And saw for the first time only the weeds
Bitter and jagged, ugly and spiteful
All I could see was too many weeds.

I counted them, named them, I tried to ignore them
Thinking I'd prove to myself a great feat
But they pricked and they stung me, they tired me and jaded me
They told me to give up my dreams and go home

I feared I'd be lonely, I feared I'd go hungry
Braced myself for every fright you'd imagine
I saw all the reasons I shouldn't have dreams
And the reasons to keep them all disappeared

Seldom did I visit my garden thereafter
I shut it up tight with its mangle and mess
But a dread deep within me is swelling and bulging
And I refuse to believe this is it

Oh dreams, how I long for your sweet fragrance now
Oh, how I yearn for that blossom of hope
I tended you sweetly and you gave me light
Now into the darkness I grope

Dear reader, you too have a garden
I see in your eyes a subtle flash
And maybe like mine your dreams are untended
Overwhelmed by obstacles and fright

Let's imagine a world where our gardens are plentiful
Where you can smell hope everywhere.
Now I invite you to join as I kneel
And bring back my garden to life.