Consciously Curated: Big Dreams, Pooh, Bullies and Serving Your Country

Consciously Curated is a roundup of news and information from other sources across the web to keep you thinking good:
A custom black notepad with ideas and fantasy photo
A custom black notepad with ideas and fantasy photo by Elijah O’Donell on Unsplash

Shondaland: Big dreams one line at a time

“The Magic Realism Bot offers its followers the opportunity to follow in these great writers’ footsteps by tweeting out three to six story ideas a day that encourage you to take a break and stretch your imagination. With its strange and thought-provoking prompts, it provides the ultimate daydream fodder for bookworms, fantasists, and writers alike — one tweet at a time.”

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My Deployment to the Military’s Port Mortuary


Photo by Hugues de BUYER-MIMEURE on Unsplash

There were more than 100 vehicles in our convoy, which was really one large funeral procession for a fallen American fighter pilot. We were headed from Dover Air Force Base, Delaware to Arlington National Cemetery, Virginia — more than 100 miles and two hours away — and we would make it in nearly half that time.


Although there were dozens of police cruisers and motorcycles ahead of our military convoy, the hearse transporting the remains of Maj. Troy Gilbert was the focus of our procession. Two helicopters even followed from above. Seemingly, everyone was there to honor Gilbert one last time and to finally bury his remains after taking a decade to retrieve all of him. The major had been on an extremely long journey to a final resting place long before we’d set out on our multi-state, 100-mile drive late in the fall of 2016.

I was in one of the military transport vehicles driving behind the hearse, and my mind still marveled at the sight of all the students standing outside of schools that were along the route to the highway from Dover — with each small American flag in small hands, Gilbert was being honored one last time and I couldn’t stop wondering how they all knew.

Upon learning that I would serve my six-month deployment at the military’s sole mortuary command in the United States, I couldn’t help but feel like I was not only deploying far behind friendly lines, but that I would be doing peculiar work in an environment in which every day I would be surrounded by American losses. I secretly felt like I was being assigned to the losing team. I now am deeply ashamed of that notion.

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