Battle Amidst Beauty

A trip to the south just isn’t complete without at least one jaunt through a battlefield. And, honestly, given the sheer volume of battles throughout Georgia, it’s not to difficult to find yourself on a battlefield, even if by accident.

Although Tucker and I have spent an extensive amount of time over the years in Georgia, we never had visited Kennesaw Mountain on purpose or by just stumbling across it. A round trip of 6 miles and a thousand foot elevation gain sounded like a nice way to bid Georgia farewell (until next time… because there is always a next time.)
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Starting off immediately in the autumn woods, it felt a little New Englandly with the slumbering trees, slow ascent, rock outcroppings and the entire forest littered with leaves and smelling like Fall. 

​Occasionally, a manmade plaque showed itself from beneath the leaves, indicating a location of a fallen soldier or position of a Confederate troop. Walking through the peaceful woods, it’s difficult for me to comprehend that this is where America was fought and won. A disagreement on how to treat one another; an argument of states rights; a threat of succession from the union—all of this was resolved by young men hiding in forests, muskets in hand to kill one another. Having been to battlefields that are simply flat meadows where men were gunned down line by line, a forest fight seemed a least a little less pointless. Here the boys could hide, could cover, could get ahead in this ultimate live acton, mortal game of chess.

​As Tucker looked out over the valley, I imagined how this view might have been the last thing many of those men saw before they took their last breath on this planet. It’s a beautiful place to be. But I wonder how different it was with the smoke from cannons and muskets; the cries of pain; the chaos of war itself.

I’ve never been able to comprehend physical war. We live in an age now where one can bring down an entire economy with a few well-timed keystrokes. Not one person has to lose their life. And yet war still happens.
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Walking through the patchy sunlight, I wondered if Tucker was greeted by a ray of sunshine or a specter of a boy whose life was lost too soon. 

​I wondered if this was how arguments were fought because people valued life so little or because they valued their ideals so highly. Each side had to believe they were protecting what was right and good and honorable. Each believed the other side was going to take this landscape and destroy it with their ways of life. From a purely logical standpoint, I can reconcile a kidnapping and ransom to get one wants—it’s leverage. But I cannot reconcile using hundreds of thousands of souls in a fight in which so many lose their lives all over a disagreement of morality and politics. It makes we wonder how we came to be the most powerful species on the planet.

​Tucker looked out over the hills, knowing not what a mess we humans have made of the world. He only knows love and joy and pain and heartache (the last two I do my best to shield from him.)  He doesn’t know that his species aligned themselves with the most powerful and destructive species on the planet. He only knows that most people are good, and you get treats and love if you smile just right and do as you’re told. Sometimes you get treats just for being you.

​Today, battles are fought on the internet. A virtual reality that has so little resemblance to reality, it’s hard to even use the word. The internet does not have autumn leaves, the smell of fires in the winter, the beating heart of an eighteen year old boy who fears his life will end in a moment. This battlefield did. Cannons are still placed at the top, ready to fight back what one side consider the invaders. The other side, battled on continuing to do what they believed they were doing: rescuing the land and people from what they viewed as inhumane and unacceptable.

Tucker and I hope that a time will come when we no longer sacrifice our future for the fights of today. All lives matter, for each one is not a number but a soul with thoughts and feelings and family and emotions and destinies to play out and choices to make—right or wrong—and impacts to be made.

​The land that Tucker and I walked on was commemorated for the battle of Kennesaw Mountain. But the land itself has been there ages before and will be here ages hence. That one moment was just a blink of an eye in the universe; a grain of sand on the beaches of time. The souls that lost their earthly existence that day matter, and did not deserve their fate. They are not chess pieces; they are people. When we degenerate people to pawns for our use, we do not do them—nor ourselves— justice. We, as a species, are better than that. And we need to start living up to that.

​Tucker and I enjoyed our stroll through the woods that for many, were the last of this earth they’d ever experience. We gave our respects to those who did not make it, and know that most were pawns in another person’s battle. A grain of sand in time does matter, for without each individual grain of sand, there would be no beach.

​Perhaps one day we will evolve enough to recognize and respect that every soul mattes, regardless of race, creed, color, age, sex, gender, and species. Life matters. Be kind to one another. Be gentle. Be giving. Fight for what is right, but never use another’s life as a pawn in your own game. Instead of walking a battlefield, stroll through Nature. Give respect to those whose lives were cut short for another’s bidding, and vow it will never happens again. Life is too short, and the world is too beautiful.