What do I like so much about having a travel diary? Your thoughts depend on your state of mind, and your state of mind depends on the state your body finds itself in. Every passing landscape, every new city, forces you into new thoughts. Traveling forces you, encourages you, inspires you to thoughts you never knew you could or would think. I'll explain.
This might even just end up as my travel post, because it is impossible to take my thoughts out of their contexts, or to not give an explanation of the circumstance I found myself in. I started off in Amsterdam. The Anne Frank House was probably one of the best things I could have began my trip with. It immediately made me reflect on the value of life, of freedom, of being so free to do all the things I want to do, of being able to breathe and live and laugh loudly without fear. Not being cooped up in a tiny house in the fear of discovery and deportation, not from the age of 13. Not having a diary as the only means of escape from a life that offered little in the way of happiness and joy. We have so much but we don't see it. We focus only on our lack and on how much happier we would be if we had more, instead of finding happiness in the things we already have.
I complain about life and whine and feel depressed occasionally and somedays just want to curl up and sleep the days away. But I have the liberty of getting up and getting out, of breathing in the fresh air and the flowers and the fields, and the only fears I have come from within, not without. It puts things into perspective. Should we not relish life so, so much more?
Scattered across Europe are monuments to the Wars fought on it. It is easy to overlook them, to pass each and every one of them and feel nothing but indifference. Perhaps it is because I am a soldier, but I cannot. Every monument, every pillar is another reminder of the lives lost in defending something. An ideal, freedom, family, friends, the Fatherland. The horrifying effects of war on its victims, not just the soldiers but everyone, who's lost a father or a husband, a child to starvation, whatever. War makes victims of us all. I'm a soldier, that doesn't mean I like war. Is violence the means to an end, I don't know. Is the military the perfect solution, or any solution at all? It is not perfect, but it does not need to be. But it's like a hostage situation, if you will. Who is going to be the first to lay down their weapons? As long as this dialogue never happens, there will be a need for the military. In an ideal world, I'd be out of a job. But the world is not an ideal one, and a less than ideal solution exists to protect it.
Didn't mean to talk about war or the military like that, but I guess it's been prancing around the back of my head for a while now. Or maybe it was watching Les Mis that conjured up those thoughts with those revolutionaries and all. Most amazing movie, btw, I've not watched the Hobbit or anything but I'm not gonna reserve my judgment, best movie of 2012/2013, it is going to sweep the awards really. Must-watch.
Traveling through Germany and it's hard to imagine what is must have been like 70 years ago. Ravaged by war, its young men off to fight a war they did not realize would cost them so much, its women aiding in the war effort however they could. A country that had been geared for war and was in the middle of one. Not just war. Never are we to forget the atrocities committed under the Third Reich.
The train winds through peaceful looking towns and villages, green fields with a fresh coating of frost on them, and you wonder: What is in the hearts of men?
And then I arrived in Berlin. The Holocaust Memorial hit me. I wandered through it as slow as I could, as I was part of a tour. As a soldier, I think its important to remember what the consequences of our actions can be.
Makes me wonder, what would I have done had I been a young officer in the Wehrmacht 70 years ago? It's easy to say I would not have gone ahead, but if that is so how can nobody in the armed forces have raised any objections at all? It's hard to say. Which is pretty scary.
We visited the Topography of Terror, which was a museum about the SS activity in Nazi Germany, and it was shocking to see how much of it was done "with the approval or assistance of the Wehrmacht." How much of it boiled down to fear of reprisal and how much of it to just obeying orders, to the point where it becomes justification all on its own and thereafter the fear of being found out? Who can say now?
Unfortunately I did not manage to visit the Dachau concentration camp. Hopefully one day I will, as well as Auschwitz. I really do think it's important that people remember these things. And perhaps especially people like me, those of us who for whatever motivations decided to make a career out of violence. I'm not saying we are violent, and yet if violence did not exist neither would we, or at least not our chosen vocations and professions. I would argue we are defending against violence, that we are a bulwark against violent actors on the international stage, but I cannot argue that our means are not violent ones. It is fact. It might sound rather harsh and damning but it is something that all military men must reconcile themselves with sooner or later. We might not lead lives of violence, and yet we earn our keep through the promise of violence, in training for possibly, one day executing deadly violence. Even as we fervently hope that that day never comes.
That's kind of the weird situation soldiers find themselves in. We train and train, but always in the hope that we never have to truly practice what it is we have spent our lives perfecting. Warfare. Does that make what we do pointless? Of course I would say no. We're insurance, possibly, and yet more. Lives are and will be affected by my actions, my words. Be they NSFs, or regulars, officers have the power to really affect lives. I find it useful to remind myself of that from time to time, lest I one day turn out completely selfish and have no regard to the people around me or under me.
Haha okay I think that's it with the reflections on my career path, hadn't meant to talk about that in such detail actually. Let's talk about stories, or fiction instead.
What is the point of fiction? Or stories? Or Art? "All the Arts … imitate as far as they can the one great truth that all can see," said Virginia Woolf. Is art the reflection and imitation of life? Is it not instead to transcend reality, cause what is fiction doing trucking around with reality? Reality sucks and fiction shouldn't, cause we want to believe in the hero who falls deeply in love, who saves the day. That at the end of every story, everything is all right. That's what we want to believe, don't we? What then the point of fiction which shows us that reality, it invariably fails us. Inevitably, people fail us, and we fail the people around us.
I'm just gonna ramble because I clearly don't have an answer. I'm not sure anyone does. I do enjoy a classic tale where against all odds the hero triumphs. I think there's always room in our lives for victories and guaranteed happiness, even if it is only through a character in a movie/book. But one of the tips the author Kurt Vonnegut has on writing is: Be a Sadist. Only then can you tell what your characters are made of. And if you're drawing from the drawing board of life, sometimes you find that some people aren't very nice.
Is the value of a piece of writing in the story it conveys, or in the feelings it evokes, the thoughts it inspires? Of course, usually these go hand-in-hand cause great stories stimulate thoughts. But sometimes you read a book and you go, wow what a great story, and that's the end of that. Doesn't make it any worse of a book that you don't go on to have a major philosophical discussion in your head after that. Or badly written books whose subject matter in itself is enough to start your mind racing, wondering about the greatest questions in life etc etc. What's the point of fiction and stories? I really don't know. I'd say it depends on the reader. What is the reader looking to get out of each new story he reads? Is he looking for echoes of his own life so that the entire story resonates with him? (Arguably all great stories and characters do this, they allow you to become the character, to put on the story.) Is he looking for an escape from reality, for the answers to the burning questions in his heart, whatever it is he is looking for.
So books. Seriously, I blame brainpickings.org cause without that website I would not have managed to scrunge up so many semi-coherent thoughts on books and writing. Or have had the delight to read so many quotes from so many literary lights. Favourite new website really. One of the articles was on How To Talk About Books You've Never Read, or something. Which is kinda pretentious sounding, cause everyone knows the twat who just wants to sound like he know everything. But it wasn't, and did contain this that I found interesting.
That the books you don't read say as much about you as the books you do. Cause we are the books we read. So I'm not Edward Cullen, and I'm proud of that fact. Loving books doesn't mean you have to appreciate every single one. And I think books say alot about a person. Which is probably why I do take quite alot of care with my book collection. It does seem very self-conscious, which it probably is, and like a carefully constructed presentation of how I want to seem like instead of who I actually am.
Which begs the question, who am I actually? You know you saw this question coming. We are the amalgamation of everything we are. Every extension, every projection, even the carefully constructed ones. Blog, twitter, instagram, facebook profile. Some people carefully curate everything that goes into these social platforms, and there's nothing wrong in that. Being conscious of what you present to the world is a part of you, however much you might like to reject that label (as I do, sometimes.) We are all made up of everything we make up.
Every word you use, every picture you like, they're another clue as to who you actually are. They reveal you. Because I don't believe that there is a fixed, definite or final "you", nor should there be. It's constantly in flux, and you discover yourself all the time, and you grow and you change and you adapt, and isn't that wonderful? Why would you want to discover the "real you"?
I remember still that discussion I had with (I think) nuo shi many years ago about men and masks. Well not just men, people I guess.
I'm different things to different people, and I behave accordingly. Around my friends or people I'm more comfortable with I'm suitably retarded, for the most part. In church I have a slightly different persona, probably like that of an older brother maybe? So I act like one and hopefully am someone the younger ones can look up to.
At home I'm the eldest son and hopefully also the more mature one, although my brother certainly is trying to give me a run for me money. I feel like I have to be more sensible, more responsible. I've got a job and I have to think more about the family's welfare and wellbeing, more perhaps than the other 2 do.
As an officer I hope I come across as competent, not arrogant but no pushover either. I have to maintain that aura of "Officership" I suppose, and that includes my fitness and sharpness of mind I guess. As well as social awareness.
As a sportsperson/wannabe sportsperson I have to keep fit as well, and be aware of my strengths and corresponding weaknesses. And also to have that spirit of trying my best at all the things I do, of giving my all.
And it's all different, some of them possibly varying to a rather large extent. And yet I believe that some part of your character manages to shine through whatever identity you're donning that the time. Something that people recognize, maybe, as being "you".
And then I started thinking about what people are remembered for. It is a tragedy that all too often in the papers the story of another young person's death appears. Not that anybody's death is acceptable, it's just the idea of youth, of so much potential, so much to live for, which is supposed to be brimming with vitality, the idea of youth passing away prematurely is such an affront to our beliefs that we are saddened and outraged, and we should be. "Full of life," they always say, "and always cheerful." No one says though, "He was retarded and completely silly! He did the dumbest and most incredible things you wouldn't believe." Packaging the essence of a person into stock, bland words. It just doesn't seem right.
I did come up with a couple of stuff regarding the essential and essentially unanswerable question of Who Am I while I was traveling. Arguably THE question which drives people to travel, which people ask while they travel, and which hopefully people manage to answer in whatever small ways they can after they travel. It is the travellers Question. What I'm trying to put across here is that I hope it's not just me stoking my ego by thinking Me, ME all the time, but a natural by-product of traveling, especially on your own. Hahah. I really am worried about my ego getting out of control sometimes.
Naval officer studying law in the UK, rugby and badminton player, avid (if not particularly good) cyclist and rock climber, backpacker of Europe/the World, member of Asian committee in church, writer of stories of dubious quality, recreational tennis player and dragonboater (which I really miss actually), street soccer ping-pong and foosball player might as well throw in here too, avid foodie and budding chef, purveyor of beauty and laughter and all that is good in life, dota player, book/movie/music fanboy (but neither a good writer nor actor nor musician), and clearly an avid fan of recording sometimes worthless shit for posterity, or for better or worse.
Which probably serves effectively to sum up, at least on a somewhat surface level, the question of Who Am I. I'm sure there's stuff I've missed out in there but if I did then that probably means they don't mean much anyway. But these are just sort of distinguishing features, a description of what I do or like to do, possibly more a What I Am rather than a Who I Am. Which leads me to my next set of musings and ramblings, which I couldn't actually bring myself to complete.
To answer the question of Who Am I? I think it is necessary first to answer the whole set of the Husband and Wives. To set out the context of the question, before finally delving into it and hopefully answering it (I won't.)
Where am I - Bruges, Europe, thousands of miles away from home.
When am I - 19.12.2012
What am I - Traveller, Student, Naval Officer, Christian, Singaporean
Why am I - Do not know. Possibly the most fundamental question right next to Who am I.
How am I - Simple biology. A sperm and an egg.
Or there's this.
I am in Europe, thousands (6156 - Berlin) of miles away from home. Or perhaps, thousands of miles away from where I should be at this moment. How incredible is that, how unreal is it that I should find myself here? In places people would give so much to be.
I am in 2012 (almost 2013 now), the new millenium, in the grips of rapid and massive technological advances. 70 years after the last World War left the country I'm in, and was, and will be in, burning. Millions of people dead or dying or homeless and starving. Something we've almost managed to push to the back of our consciousness in a mere 70 years. Which tells you what a 70 years it's been.
I am a human being. Homo sapien, inheritor of the world or the top of the food chain. And depending on where and when I find myself, I define myself differently too. Now I say traveller, in Exeter I say Singaporean, subsequently student (I don't often think myself as a student.) At home I say Naval officer. Almost everything is contingent on each other, it would seem.
I am here because. A higher being (in my case, God) has made me so. Some would argue the random event billions of years ago, the big bang, and all the universe's transformation and evolution since. It stretches my imagination to think that out of all this entropy, all this randomness and energy and mass could come about such perfect circumstances to sustain such life as our earth does. It is just too mind-boggling for me. Life in all its variations? The millions of species of flora and fauna, could that really have come about purely by chance? Not for me, no. My personal How am I is answered then by God.
I am here for a reason. I might not know it yet, but there is purpose in my life. There is a reason Why I am. I hope that I find reason in all the things I do. And that hopefully by doing so, I can figure out my own reason for being. If you cannot find the why in the things you do, how can you possibly find the why in yourself? So I will continue to do the things that are meaningful to me, things that I can give meaning to. And maybe I will too mean something to someone. Is that enough a reason to exist, to mean something to someone? Maybe. I don't know. I'd like to think it does, I think.
And that leaves Who Am I. Which I don't know, not yet at least, and maybe not ever. And maybe it doesn't matter that you'll never obtain the definitive answer, maybe it's important that you never do. In our strife to be better persons we constantly renew ourselves, we reinvent ourselves sometimes, cause sometimes we have to.
What has travelling done for, or to, me? I might not know exactly who I am, but I know better now who I want to be. It's taught me self-acceptance, but also that that's not enough. What's the point of being able to look at yourself, to see the bad with the good, if you don't try then to preserve the good and excise the bad? Self-acceptance maybe means that you are able to honestly look at yourself without blinkers, without trying to delude yourself into thinking you're something you're not. To accept you're not as good as you've made yourself out to be. I think I've managed to achieve some form of that, which is quite a step for me.
Hmmm okay. I guess I kinda exhausted myself now. Not quite a complete treatise on the question of identity, or on travelling, or even on the purpose of the military, or of fiction. More like a completely random mish-mash of all of the above, and which hopefully make some sort of sense to you, as it kinda does to me haha.
Just watched an excellent video on happiness, which kinda distracted me I guess. The best sort of distraction really. In fact I'm gonna put it here cause I think it's really worth a watch!
I did especially like the part where he described stuff like health, travel etc, sort of things that people always include in their list of wants, as auxiliary. Because I did have some ruminations on wants the other day.. But don't worry I won't go into that cause I've forgotten it all now! It's been a long post..
Alright then, it's time to sleep I guess! I am feeling rather a fool right now, for reasons I will not specify, and oh what a feeling. Oh no. I'm in a bad way.. Ugh ciao!
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