Imagine you’re a young man growing up in the pastoral farmlands of Canada, surrounded by your devout parents and seven siblings. You trek 16 miles to church each Sunday to further devote your life to the religion that you believe to be your calling. Life is hard, but you’re at home and alive. Then, like a shot from destiny, everything changes. You find yourself in South Vietnam in the middle of war, attempting to make sense and reconcile the faith and morality from the only world you’ve ever known with this all-encompassing hell of inhumanity and senselessness. This is the disconcerting experience that author JanStephen James Cavanaugh recounts in A Bloodied Tapestry.
In this autobiographical historical account, Jan takes readers through the time he served as a civilian volunteer in the Vietnam War and shows how this experience altered the trajectory of his life forever. Walk with Jan as he comes to grips with the realities of war, and how injustice and violence betray our better judgements.
Much has been written about the Vietnam War; however, this book is not a retrospect on the utter inhumanity and senselessness of war because—sadly—war continues. Alternatively, Cavanaugh extols lessons and observations about the war that may finally reach our collective consciousness and compel meaningful and noticeable change. Much more insight is needed as we fumble our way toward attempting to find a peaceful way to exist together. Cavanaugh still believes we can make the choice to let go of the injustice and ego that create war. He is still hopeful that together we can make the collective choice to turn our backs on war so we may progress and find greater meaning and compassion in our existence. This pursuit is what motivates Cavanaugh and inspired him to revisit this hell, so that we may finally experience the harmony that comes from humanity living in an age of peace.
Sometimes graphic, oftentimes uplifting, A Bloodied Tapestry is a personal account of one man’s immutable beliefs as they are challenged to the very core and his resolution to survive for a greater purpose.
JanStephen James Cavanaugh, Ph.D. was born in Canada to a large, very religious family. His dream of the priesthood led him to the US, but, after being turned away from this role by the Catholic Church, he turned his attention to volunteering and found himself stationed in South Vietnam, right in the middle of the Vietnam War. After experiencing the hell of war first-hand as a civilian, Jan returned to the states, and went on to become a professor, psychologist, global business consultant, and surprisingly, a Class A licensed big rig driver. With a Ph.D. in Human Development from Penn State, Cavanaugh has dedicated his life to a deep study of the human psyche with the mission of facilitating ways to encourage the healthy growth of our collective bodies, minds, and souls.
It is true, I was not given the training a soldier gets to prepare for the sound and fury of war.
But even so I often wonder was I "extra sensitive" given my childhood traumatic response of almost fainting at sound of cannon and thunder.
And so early sensitivities to the horror of the sound of war aroused in Vietnam . And for that I suffer PTSD ... now well controlled ... for the most part ... low these many years.
And now to wonder was my early life experience of the sound of war part of my soul's code to learn the lesson ... to speak of peace from a heart felt space that gives direction and meaning to my life.
What was once a suffering given for a purpose that I might see more deeply the path to peace on earth.
Book Excerpt
A Bloodied Tapestry
What may have been a part of my motivation to select Vietnam takes me deeply into personal issues having to do with a father who always “loved” the military. He regularly took us to Armed Forces Day at nearby Camp Borden, not far from our farms. And I did have nightmares as a child as the flashes and roar of nighttime training at the camp during the Korean War disturbed my sleep. Deeply frightened, I can still see the flashes on the walls of my bedroom and the images frightening me enough to call for my mother. As a young boy the noise of thunderstorms terrified me. Perhaps in reaction, I looked forward to Armed Forces Day. I so enjoyed walking around the machines of war, seeing the crispness of men in uniform. In Canada, at least in my home, there was a sense of deep respect for the military. We believed Canadians, disproportional to their numbers, suffered in fighting the Empire’s wars. The Empire boys showed those English wimps how to fight!
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