“A ripple widening from a single stone – winding around the waters of the world.” Theodore Roethke
“A person who leaves does not leave a void behind, but a glowing echo.” Fatima Haggar
Sometimes, it feels like life is just a series of shocks that constantly shake up our view of the world. As I reflect on big events in American history like the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, World Wars I and II, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the Iraq War, and the war in Afghanistan, I can’t help but wonder what we learned from all the deaths and destruction in those conflicts. Apparently, not much. We are now entangled in Latin America, the Middle East, Africa, and Asia. And we keep thinking that military superiority will solve those problems. The real result of all those wars, however, only appears to be more death and destruction.
I was born at the end of World War II. My life spans from Vietnam to Venezuela. Along the way, I’ve witnessed Korea, Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya, Panama, and more. Other than World War II, none of these wars produced what they promised.
In the context of all these shocks, I’m trying to look at my life as a pebble in a pond and a raindrop in the ocean.
At birth, I was lucky enough to be born into a small, life-supporting pond without a lot of unhealthy ingredients. Most of the world is not so lucky. How differently lives are experienced when they happen to originate in ponds filled with toxic waste, poisons, and parasites. The fact that I happened to land in one pond instead of another is a mystery I will never understand.
The biggest shock in my life was when I was thrown into the Vietnam swamp. When I think about my own experience in Vietnam, I always reflect upon the ripple effect of all the people who were killed, injured, or psychologically damaged—for no good reason and with a worse outcome than if we had left it alone. Those ripples now “wind around the waters of the world.”
During the course of my life, I have come to realize that all I can reasonably hope is that my little pebble of a life makes some soothing waves for whomever may exist in whatever pond I find myself. At death, I can only hope that I become like a raindrop falling into the ocean. My wildest dream is that the raindrop evaporates into the great unknown and becomes one with All. Living life with those images requires humility and acceptance. I’m afraid we are not seeing those two qualities in the world right now.
It seems to me that we make a mistake when we try to make a big splash in a large body of water that creates waves on every shore. What typically happens is the wave floods the land and we drown in a wake of our own making. When hubris replaces humility and denial replaces acceptance, the end result does not usually fit with whatever delusional fantasies we might imagine.
Speaking of which, I just finished one of my favorite books of all time: Buckeye, by Patrick Ryan. Through poignant stories, it delves deeply into the notions of humility and acceptance. I will refrain from going into the details because I don’t want to spoil the experience for you. I will say, however, that I was moved by the stories revealing the lingering effects of trauma in our lives and our failures to learn from past mistakes. The characters in the book come from three different time frames: World War I, World War II, and Vietnam. Each person was irreparably damaged by their experiences in their respective wars. Their stories bring alive the deadly consequences of refusing to learn.
Given the volumes of commentary about the reckless and illegal snatch and grab operation in Venezuela, I will spare you additional words. This post has already addressed many of the principles and values that should have been more fully vetted before this military showcase. Yes, the special forces team executed flawlessly from what we know, and Maduro is a corrupt thug for whom not many tears will fall. The “whats” of this operation are not the point. It’s the “whys” and “hows” that weren’t fully debated prior to the decision. Enough said.
Here’s the truth I’ve come to embrace. We live as pebbles; we die as raindrops.
As pebbles, maybe our impact creates a few ripples that wind around the waters of the world. As raindrops, we don’t leave a void—we return to the ocean, creating a faint echo. When we try to make too big a splash, we run the risk of drowning in the wake we created.
My simple hope for 2026 is that we finally learn the lessons from the past and we live with more humility and acceptance. May it be so.
