Combat deployments were about as extreme as a young thrill junkie could get, once upon a time, in another life. We now know, violence of any variety, causes damaging and lasting effects on the human brain and human psyche. We call this trauma and everyone has it1, not just combat veterans, those unfortunate of us who had to carry on and tell the damn story.
It was the return to society, the reintegration, that fucked us all to hell and gone. Most of us didn’t survive that conflict, nor were we well-equipped or educated to master it. I failed at it every damn time. Still failing at it. Learning a thing about myself then plotting a whole new game plan to reintegrate into a society of resistance, only to learn another new thing and do it all over again on the next go ‘round.
We had no community, back home. Sure, we had families and friends but if you think family actually loves (unconditionally) and would take a bullet to the dome for you, well then, you’re delusional or don’t fully grasp what unconditional means and this story ain’t for you. In combat, politics and “beliefs” go out the gasping, gurgling lungs of the buddy who once had a chest who simply laced up and showed up, the same way I did. Whatever our beliefs were prior to combat, they die rather quickly and you learn to rely on the experience gained by simply trying to survive. And those who helped get you through it.
We call those survivors “The Others” and they play an integral part of our own evolution, whether it be artistic or self-healing, The Others act as influences who let us know everything is ok. Keep going. Why do they matter so much to us in our own journey? Because we seek them out. The industry calls them mentors.
The Others provide signals and nudges that all is not only ok, but sometimes, rather good and compelling; enjoyable even. Eyes light up and sparkle and the inner self gains a signal that all is well. Keep going. They know which signals to display because they have come before us. They have been here. And like Bernie King knows, we are all going to get there in a while. We call Bernie, and those like him, mentors or shadow workers but I call them The Others. And if the point of quantum theory and mechanics is that anything can be anything, fully dependent on the observer, if Bernie and those like him can be that for us, that means we are currently that someone (a mentor, a guide) for others. We can all be defined as “those who lived to carry forward; those poor souls who survived and had to tell the story.” We are all combat survivors of daily existence.
This universe has energy and it is perpetuated by those who came before us, transferred to mechanical energy within us, reproduced by grace (simply doing a thing and expecting nothing in return) that will inevitably spur muscle movement in others. We become The Others by seeking out those who have experienced a thing who motivate us to evolve our authentic self.
Our job, those who did the damn thing and survived, is to tell the story or provide clues to others that all is well. Keep going. Do the damn thing.
I took a fly-in bear viewing trip up in Alaska a while back (2019) and witnessed a miracle of life, light as energy, energy in motion, that I once thought I would never ever be able to write about, or explain to anyone. An event so precious words fail.
Alaska is known for an abundance of bald eagles, especially down in Homer, but this was a late summer bear viewing trip, and the guide was a master of his craft at getting our john boat as close to the bears as we could and by doing so, we could hear the air blow out of their nostrils as they floated effortlessly in the glacier melt water. Brown bears, mind you, not grizzlies. All grizzly bears are brown bears but not all brown bears are grizzlies.
A train of john boats filled with tourists were waiting their turn to “feed the bears” and after our go, our guide 180’d the boat and powered it steadily up to a 50mph course to a wide open marsh in the middle of Lake Clark National Park and Preserve. Nothing in sight for hundreds of miles it seemed and our deHavilland Beaver float plane wouldn’t be back for another half-hour. Nothing in the sky. We had a few leftover fish (pink salmon) in the boat with us and I couldn’t see another human or animal in any direction I looked, and I had binoculars.
We got out of the boat and stretched our legs, standing on a small patch of dry sand on the high side of the marsh. Our guide reached down and pulled up a fish from the stash of illegal bear food and held it high over his head like Jimmy Swaggart swinging his 10-pound bible in the air as we glassed around like his congregation looking for the chicken fried steak after his Sunday sermon.
What was this dude doing, holding a live fish in the air? What happened next would prove to be the very story I told to describe light as energy, three years later, on acid, accepting the talents I possessed to be a writer and observer of things, and to tell the story. Many stories. I am the fortunate soul who lived, to carry on, to tell them in my own time, on my own journey. I now seek the further healing that eludes me.
(Scroll to last section for the original bear viewing story.)
In January, 2024, just a few weeks ago, the US Veteran’s Adminstration (VA) FINALLY released a statement and initiative to attain federal funding, directed by the Biden Administration, to fund research, some already underway, using psychedelics (psilocybin and MDMA) to “address mental health disorders in veterans.”2 As a veteran on an intentional self-healing approach, I’ve experimented with shrooms, MDMA, and acid, with MDMA having the most profound effect, combined with music, on my healing journey.
The VA’s announcement has propelled me to tell my story, without shame or fear of being cast into the square box of society or its prisons, both figuratively and literally.
Why am I telling the eagle and salmon story now? If we heal, grow, and do all the things according to our path, we may sometimes come out on the other side alone, or unable to see the light. We routinely get disappointed with others, the system, or the agenda, as we tirelessly seek the light, for indicators that all is well. Everything is ok. We can keep going. We seek community in it all.
What happens if we find ourselves isolated from community and fail to see the light? Or perhaps, we can no longer sense the light? At some point in one’s journey, the seekers are gonna have to accept the cold hard, fortunate fact that they are the light. For others. They now have to carry on and tell the story. And the cycle of life continues as our living pulse, the heartbeat of existence; the [energy] will feed the world’s most majestic creature in its hour of feast.
The beauty of being human, is that we retain our own pulse, existence, after the feeding. After we feed the majestic being that seeks out our unique light in the darkness, we grow and evolve in the process of grace and acceptance. Our physical bodies and our spirits remain intact. Our spirit goes on to spur muscle movement in others.
Bernie King inspired me to tell the story of The Others when he and Julie gave me a CD of theirs’ back when I ran into them at the Rufina Taproom in Santa Fe last September. I listened to the CD and fell in love with “One Foot in Front of the Other” on their 2012 album, Bernie King and The Guilty Pleasures. The song was written by a man who has seen some shit and lived to tell about it. Originally from Roswell, NM, Bernie moved around the globe before coming back to Albuquerque, ceding to the power of music that lives in him. Or at least the stories that live in him, set to gripping effectiveness of the musical variety.
I connect with songwriters who have either been through some shit, lived to tell about it, or can at least submit to the ancient energy within them (not all trauma is our own) to convincing arrangements of music, of any genre. Bernie does it with “One Foot in Front of the Other” in a fashion that can only be told through blood stained foreheads and worn-out walking boots. “I poured gas on the house I used to live in.” Bernie has learned, and lived to tell the story, that we are all gonna get there in a while, and all we need to do is the work…and if it’s dark, with no light whatsoever in your cosmos, all you need is to put one foot in front of the other. May sound simple but there’s another reason to it:
Bernie King knows that instinct, the body’s ability to live despite the human psyche saying it can’t, has experienced the energy of knowing. Knowing the body will find the way. If we listen. And do the work. It is the only true way forward, and it is not to be rushed. We will all get to our graves in a while. Bernie and Julie both curate powerful tribute shows around the area, and now perform as Hello Darlin’ with bassist, Carl Petersen.
However, continuing with the theme of Others, it was Craig and Arelis Buchanan who drove me to write the story today, while discovering their duo Redcoat Rebels and the release of a juiced up live version of their Noel Gallagher cover “Dead In The Water.” I’ve experienced those two on the live stage many times over 2023 and they have a thing. Sorta like lovebirds, if said lovebirds were sassy, neurospicy, rock nerds with the heart and soul of humans who live with gratitude and psychobilly kindness. They are a light for others and hearing their song today, made me sit down and write. I had their cover on repeat the whole time while writing.
Both singer/songwriting couples mentioned in this story have a vibe, unique and transparent. Couldn’t fake if they tried. They both work selflessly to carry on the healing power of music, and they all have energy that drifters in the dark are drawn to along the way. Kinda like that eagle up in Alaska, flying in from nowhere, to grace us with its divine power and beauty.
Along the journey, those who dive into self and come out on the other side with a spiritual knowing or a portal to enlightenment, and find no community, no seekers or hunters looking for their pulse, their fruit of life, we call them assholes and move on.
Dead fish don’t swim.
The Original Bear Viewing Story:
I was on a bear viewing trip up in Alaska and our guide was a good ol boy from Oklahoma. Loved the outdoors and worked 7-days a week during the summer season in Alaska just so he could fish and hunt WHILE getting paid to do so. I thought it was genius, if you’re a good ol boy from Oklahoma. Anywho, he cleverly stashed a few salmon in the back of the boat, and after we saw many brown bears swimming in the water and frolicking through the forest, he steered the boat away from the crowds and headed for a grassy area in the great wide open of nothing. It’s Alaska and the “nothing” I am speaking of is mind-numbingly VAST. He beached the small boat on a grassy marsh-like area and jumped out to pee. He came back to the boat, grabbed one of the fish he stashed and held it up. I looked around, for an eternity, and couldn’t see or understand what this fool was up to!!! Dude was just standing next to the boat, with a fish in the air and there was nothing (that the human eye could see) around for millions of miles (it seemed). A few minutes later, we saw it! Hearts stopped. Mouths dropped. We could not believe what we were SEEING with our human eyes: like a Boeing 747 wide body on approach from 3 continents away, an American Bald Eagle was on approach, adjusting his flaps and ailerons for crosswind and altitude. We saw it all in super slow, high resolution detail as the Symbol of Freedom locked into the glide slope. It took several minutes for the majestical creature to arrive and when he did, he spread his wings out, casting a shadow on all the mesmerized humans in the boat, tilted the flaps down for super slow loitering affect, shot his talons forward, and made one last flap of his wings to seize the fish being held by the MAN from Oklahoma.
I ask you now, where in the fucking fuck did that bird come from? Well now I know. Goddamn thing was on acid. How do I know this? Cause ain’t no way in hell that damn bird saw that fish from 20-30 nautical miles away when I can’t even see my own soul standing right in front of me. That fish had light illuminating from it, because it was still living and breathing. The fish was not dead. The fish was emanating energy and that fucking acid-brained eagle saw it from whatever wasteland he came from and he snatched that fucking fish like it was his goddamn purpose in life. {The fish is light and the eagle is seeking. My acid experience and the sensitivity to light and love (energy) mimicked what I saw in nature, sober, three years earlier. Oct/Nov 2022.}
See how all this circles back around to the light we provide others? Feb 2024.
Author’s note:
We are born, we seek The Others, they provide, we experience, we learn, and we become the light for others who are seeking, searching, wandering around hungry. (Hungry is the key word here.) I have been doing a heap of isolating and deep meditation, first going fully offline in January to California; and now in February preparing another journey into further healing and fruitful experiences. And lastly for my writing, I will continue to write about music, while writing more pieces to inform others: those who take interest in my journey, my writing, my unusual style, and my quest to reinstate my peace, and to help others manifest their own knowing that all will be ok.
Why did I, after immediately discovering I had a writing ability in 2022, blast off to attend over 250 live music shows in New Mexico in 2023, suffering multiple burnouts and senseless fatigue over the year, but thrilled and happy to do so? After my January 2024 isolated rehab trip to the coast, I learned I was unknowingly replicating my “combat high” and the rush it gave me all those years; the sense to be alive; the camaraderie of fellow warriors, the exhilarating rush I have not found since my last combat deployment in 2011. I now know (burnout) to be a coping mechanism, seeking that dopamine dump, and I can now effectively stabilize the dopamine, simply by existing if I wanna, and by learning how to. I don’t have to chase the high anymore; I can simply and leisurely exist, while writing my own story, eating better, and working out more than I am, which is not at all. It’s why Jimmy Deveney’s story and The Holdfast Union, their music, is so powerful and relatable to me. We are all seeking connection that we are not alone, and those signals are powerful forces in the quest.
Why did I go to so many shows, unknowingly during 2023? I wasn’t only seeking the thrill and community of my old combat days, I was meditating and trying to replicate the vulnerability I established in love, from the 2022 acid/love event, with music. Through intense meditation, set and setting, cutting booze, and learning of my chronic people pleasing addiction, I was able to replicate my acid/love experience with music alone (and the humans that produced it from unconditional love). Several times. Many times.
Musicians: If I have ever been to your show, and was quietly standing in the corner or leaning against my favorite wall at Launchpad, I was meditating and allowing myself to enjoy the journey your music induced. Sober. Occasionally microdosing shroom tea to block all the self-made barriers I fortified over the decades, to fully allow myself to be immersed in your music. I was healing, with your music, writing about it, so that you could sense the energy it provided, while completing the circle of giving life: positive feedback to the artist to keep going. Do the damn thing. It all goes back to energy, the eagle, and the salmon.
Why did I quit drinking booze in May? I learned that it is impossible (for me) to replicate love (giving and receiving life) with booze. I had to sober up to continue the experiment and it worked. Saying no to booze led me to be able to say NO to so much more, like dumb ass sports on TV, bars to sit and eat all day, anger, and toxic people, bad habits, consumerism, and eventually, traffic. Can’t get road rage if you’re not in a car driving to Rio Rancho at 4:30pm on a weekday, not truly wanting to do the damn thing that you’re racing to do anyway. Saying “no” changed my life last year. Many times over and it makes space for so much new shit. I tried a few times to put old shit back in but eventually learned that’s dead fish too, and I think we got the point already.
**Dedicated readers will also calculate that I have now introduced several entities that fall into The Others category. It is all the same energy, just different human bodies (vectors of love), different minds (egos), different perspectives (experiences). But the energy is universal and infinite. The Others are light, and if we cannot sense their light, we gotta look inward, because someone out there is looking at ours, seeking a puzzle piece that provides them sustenance for their journey, while the whole cycle of giving life re-energizes our own.
Joe Smith, Stringer
This story is dedicated to Brother Barnaby. Alan Adape was the nudge, the light I needed, several weeks after the acid/love event, while looking around to see if everything was ok, scared senseless that someone would very soon, one day, read my published writing. It was the signal I needed to keep going, as I entered the creative arts world at 47 years old as a non-musician. The human art world of experiencing music and writing creative narration.
The Trauma of Everyday Life, Mark Epstein, M.D., 2013.
https://www.military.com/daily-news/2024/01/08/va-fund-research-using-mdma-psilocybin-address-mental-health-disorders-veterans.html