I recently re-watched the 2005 commencement speech given by the writer David Foster Wallace to the graduating class of Kenyon College, which in the years since has been published as a book, transformed into online videos, and generally been commercialized in a way that Wallace would have hated. The speech itself, often called ”This Is Water,” however, remains poignant and true. It is, in fact, perhaps the purest distillation of my personal philosophy as it exists outside of my own brain. It encapsulates much of how I have come to see the world. I think that the speech brilliantly fuses simplicity and significance.
And.
David Foster Wallace was a deeply flawed and problematic person. He wrote brilliantly and insightfully about the challenge of toxic masculinity, before that term was well known or understood. He was a writer of depth and humanity, acutely aware of his own insecurities and how to use that knowledge to create connections between his ideas and his readers. He was open and vulnerable, and talked about his own struggles with mental illness.
And at the same time he was doing all of these things he was an abusive and controlling boyfriend, one that would attack and stalk his former partner (and brilliant writer herself) Mary Karr, to whom he was both psychologically and physically abusive. He was a demeaning and imperious colleague, a distant teacher, and a remote friend. He was an alcoholic, prone to depression and anger, and suffered from suicidal ideations.
For all of his prodigious talent and insight, David Foster Wallace was also an abusive asshole.
In one of the great ironies of this commencement address, Wallace exhorts his listeners to engage in the challenging work of truly seeing the complexities of the world and the people in it, lest they become overwhelmed with despair and turn to suicide, the exact battle that he would lose some three years after giving this speech.
So what then, to do with this speech? With this near perfect explanation of my own worldview? How do I reconcile it with the person who gave it voice? And - even more difficult - how do I come to terms with the fact that many of the challenges that Wallace faced are the exact same demons I have faced in my own life?
What do we do with the parts of ourselves and our histories that are beautiful and precious but also challenging and scary and hard? What do we do with the people, places, and situations that shaped us and molded us, and which have proven in some ways to be toxic? What do we do with the trauma and the circumstances that created us? That made us who we are?
What do we do with our beautiful monsters? Our water?
Veteran’s Day is the one day of the year where I don’t mind people thanking me for my service. It is, after all, why the day exists.
Veteran’s Day is about acknowledging and appreciating all who have served in the Armed Forces of the United States. So share the love. Give all the thanks.
There are no rules (like Memorial Day). There are no minefields to navigate. Just thank a vet. Thank ALL the vets. God knows they deserve it.
And.
My service is one of my beautiful monsters. I would not be who I am without it. My 12 years in the Army (and in Iraq and Afghanistan and Korea and all the others, foreign and domestic) shaped every part of who I am. It molded my values, shaped my character, provided my trajectory. I made the best friends that it is possible to have - guys who I would trust with my life. I learned what care and love and sacrifice really look like. I saw people do things so incredible that I’m still not sure they were real, all in service of protecting each other. My service also gave me a brain injury and PTSD and can make even simple tasks a chore. My service almost took my life more times than I can count - while I was in the Army and in the years since.
I am proud to be a veteran. I am proud of my service. I also carry scars that won’t heal, no matter how much time passes. Those wonderful friends? Most of them I am no longer in contact with. Some were lost on the field. Some were lost to me when they got home. And sometimes that was my fault. Maintaining connection when everyone involved has a duffle bag full of demons isn’t easy. But every dear friend lost leaves a mark.
A lot of people who didn’t know me then have a hard time believing it when I say it, but I was a real asshole for a real long time. Now I try every day to make the world around me better.
Both of those parts of me came from my service.
Nothing is just one thing.
Nothing is purely good or purely bad. David Foster Wallace was more than the worst thing he ever did. And he is less than the best thing he ever wrote. So am I. So are you.
The real truth is that we are the beautiful monsters. We are capable of love and hate, care and harm. We create life, we sow the seeds of death. Human beings are complicated and complex and the situations in which we find ourselves are too. Even war. Even the warriors.
In Japan there is a folk art tradition of repairing broken pottery and other ceramics using a resin dusted with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. Kintsugi, as it is called, literally means “join with gold,” and is rooted in the philosophy of wabi-sabi, which finds beauty in imperfection and impermanence. Kintsugi treats the damage as part of the object’s history rather than a flaw to hide. American consumer culture teaches us all - directly and indirectly - that the things, and even the people, that surround us are disposable. The minute we see a crack, we get rid of it.
I have so many cracks that at this point I have more resin than porcelain. A lot of vets are like that. And we are still here. Even though the what has changed (less jumping out of planes and more physical and mental therapy) the why never has. I joined the military because I believe that courage and honor and duty aren’t just words, and that the idea of our country is worth fighting for. And I still believe that, just with way more nuance than I used to.
So I swim on. This, you see, is water.
I hope that you have a wonderful Veteran’s Day. Thank the people in your life that served. The best thing that we can do for others (including vets) is see them in their fullness - in their complex humanness - and lean into it.
To those who want to thank me for my service... I won’t respond to everyone individually. So let me say to everyone now… you’re welcome. You were worth it.
Happy Veteran’s Day y’all. Until next time, be well. And no matter what…
Keep pounding the rock.
Yes, I thank you for your service and the harm as well as the losses you experienced, and the sacrifices you made while in it, as well as the residual you carry with you. Your personal growth has been remarkable and a model for others to emulate.