Arjuna's Colt 45

Most sailors keep a few books in their cabins. In one of the cupboards was a copy of the Bhagavad Gita. I’d read some of it before but I must have skipped over these stanzas Krishna spoke to Arjuna as the sea rolled under my feet. I read between the lines of these stanzas, “The duties of the Priests, the Warriors, the Merchants/Artisans, and Laborers, Arjuna, are passed along through the genes according to the qualities which arise from their own nature” and “Heroism, majesty, firmness, skill, and never a coward, generosity, and nobility, are the qualities of the warrior, born of their nature.” You can’t help but to be what you were born to.Strap on your 45 Arjuna and get in the mix.

The Brahman, the Kshatrias, the Vashyas, and the Shudras… each are noble. I took a deep breath and sighed the sorrow. We are born the way we are. I had been granted a part in the universe I denied. I tried to find peace between the Kshatrias and the Vashyas where no peace could be found.

I’d settled for the mask of normalcy instead of taking the path. It turned out to be a big mistake. I chose the oblivion of the bottle when I denied the fire… the challenge of creation as an artist. It was the same Warrior/Creator Muse that left me then and this thing in me became numb. Sitting on the deck of the Sherlock in that moment, I understood… it was a flash. When Earhart took his dive off the bridge it was his last chance to get back to his warrior soul. It wasn’t when I chose to drink… it was when I chose to be normal. Creation and destruction, oh Arjuna, are the same beast. This reality shocks normal people with normal lives. Likewise, it’s the karma of most people to live out their lives in peace, to raise families, and participate in society. The merchant/artisan or laborer perfect their own duties to be successful but couldn’t be expected to understand the drive of pro-athletes or Navy SEALs. Nor should they. The odds are a million to one against making it but the drive is there and that drive denied will pull us down the way nothing else can.

There were a few beers in the cabin’s small fridge but I craved a soda instead. I realized I hadn’t the DTs I’d feared since my last drink. I should’ve. I always did when I tried. I had nothing more than the usual hangover and some shakes but it was remarkably easy to quit. It had never been this easy for me before whenever I tried. Shit, it had been a couple years of daily drinking. I’d heard others say the same thing happened to them when they went had gone bat-shit religious. They always attributed it to a miracle… an act of God or Higher Power. It made believers of them. I hadn’t any such an apparition or transcendent experience. I’ve heard it said that positive thinking changes the brain chemistry but that wasn’t quite enough of an explanation for me. It was as though my friends on the Wall had called me to a mission. Maybe Earhart’s spirit was my Higher Power. It did awaken me none-the-less.