Wednesday, March 26, 2014

A Metaphorical Gun To My Head.

I’m not afraid to die. But I am afraid my friends will give me the funeral I told them I wanted when I was drunk.

Label me quasi-brave. Not quite like the men who run into danger and get shit done. I could learn from them.

I’ll explain: I just wrapped up a long-term writing assignment, and now I’ve got some time to work on my own projects. I wasn’t sure when this window would open for me, but I kept myself ready by collecting bits of motivation as I came across them. Some of them are entertainment related, but today I’d like to share a non-showbiz story, from Esquire magazine, about the member of Seal Team Six who actually killed Osama Bin Laden. To protect his and his family’s identity, he’s simply referred to as The Shooter:

For the Shooter personally, bin Laden was one bookend in a black-ops career that was coming to an end. But the road to Abbottabad was long, starting with the guys who tried and failed to make it into the SEALs in the first place. Up to 80 percent of applicants wash out, and some almost die trying. 

In fact, during the Shooter’s Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training in the mid-nineties, the torture-chamber menu of physical and emotional resistance and resolve required to get into the SEALs, there was actually a death and resurrection. 

“One of the tests is they make you dive to the bottom of a pool and tie five knots,” the Shooter says. “One guy got to the fifth knot and blacked out underwater. We pulled him up and he was, like, dead. They made the class face the fence while they tried to resuscitate him. The first words as he spit out water were ‘Did I pass? Did I tie the fifth knot?’ The instructor told him, ‘We didn't want to find out if you could tie the knots, you asshole, we wanted to know how hard you’d push yourself. You killed yourself. You passed.’”