The passage of time in the army is a familiar journey. Like an ancient vessel, winds and waves of instruction and command do much to dictate how her seamen experience the voyage. The occasional return to her port of call is shortlived but treasured; every departure is but for the sake of preserving the coast.
Sometimes I imagine a day passing by like how you reach for a handful of sand with your bare palm – that's dawn. As the sun rises and surveys the horizon, you slowly release your fingers and the grains of sand explore your knuckles like khaki waterfalls. Most of them fall to the ground by nightfall, but a few hazel specks remain stuck to your moist hand – these are the moments you catch. The rest fade into the shore of your subconscious.
I type this as I sit in a training shed, surrounded by friends, guns, grass, and the sound of raindrops that have since field camp lost a measure of their melodic quality. It's supposed to be our 'self-directed learning' period. But hey, boys can multi-task! But genuinely, I just think it's encouraging that such flights of fancy still materialise even now. In some sense, they're too precious not to pen down.
Which brings me back to the currency of events. What's interesting to note is that time seems to pass at a different speed here compared to the outside world.
On one hand, the general sentiment is that time passes as slowly as how a mouse would drag a hippopotamus across a football field. On the other hand, we are called to observe a sacred form of punctuality, in which a second of tardiness would result in elbow-buckling consequences; we end up always asking for extensions (which, by the way, brings back fond memories of my old life). So on one level, time passes too slowly, but on another level, it teleports.
Then, through an even wider lens, the rest of the world seems to be zooming past while everyday here feels like every other day. Because we live out the week in such great anticipation for the weekend, we scarcely realise that a month has already passed when we see our moms for the fourth time.
Then, through an even wider lens, the rest of the world seems to be zooming past while everyday here feels like every other day. Because we live out the week in such great anticipation for the weekend, we scarcely realise that a month has already passed when we see our moms for the fourth time.
Like sailors, we learn all these things the hard way, the choppy and homesick way. But then again, who knows what will happen tomorrow? *grin*
