inhibitions

I'm reading a book.  It's quite amazing, that I'm reading.  I started this book during my haircut, and I've continued reading it at nights.  I've been sitting my kids next to me with their books, hoping to set a good example... they always pick this box of books given to them by an aunt.  It's twelve mini books with a winter theme, and sometimes they look at the pictures, but most of the time they build things with the books.  Or, while I'm reading, one of them will insist I read one of these five "page" mini books to them over and over and over again.  Tomris will say, "No read mama!  This one!"  So I get aggravated and try to finish a page or paragraph or sentence of my own while they fight over their book building blocks, or sit on me, or take my book from my hands.

Anyhow, I'm reading The Things They Carried and I have so many things to write about it.  There was a painfully beautiful description that really struck me.  The author was writing about motivations for going to war, and he claimed that for most - they went to war because they were too afraid not to die.  They went out of fear - fear of embarrassment, fear of being shamed.  It wasn't courage that made a soldier run to death, it was the fear of being the one who didn't go, who didn't move, who ran away.

It wasn't until the middle of the book that he confessed his turning point.  He had been drafted, and was waiting for the call and one day, he cracked - literally heard something crack inside himself and he took off and ran for the Canadian border.  He took up some lodging near the border and the old Minnesota man never asked him what he was doing there.  For six days they shared meals together, sat on the porch, and did chores to close up the lodge for the winter.  On the last day, the old man took the young man out fishing.  They dropped their lines twenty meters from the Canadian side.  The  young man realized the older had done this on purpose, never speaking, never looking up - and the young man realized looking into the Canadian wilderness that he didn't have the courage to run.  That was the brave thing to do - to run away as he felt he should, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.  He was afraid of the embarrassment and shame, and he began crying.  He cried hard because he realized he would have to go to war, and not for bravery nor courage - but out of plain and simple fear, weakness, and embarrassment.

How many times have all of us made decisions in life out of fear, fear of embarrassment, or shame?  Not out of our courage, but out of you weakness?  Paralysis even.  Ugh.