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[wile-e-quixote]

The Grate Fire

I'm sorry for a fellow if he cannot look and see

In a grate fire's friendly flaming all the joys which used to be.

If in quiet contemplation of a cheerful ruddy blaze

He sees nothing there recalling all his happy yesterdays,

Then his mind is dead to fancy and his life is bleak and bare,

And he's doomed to walk the highways that are always thick with care.

When the logs are dry as tinder and they crackle with the heat,

And the sparks, like merry children, come a-dancing round my feet,

In the cold, long nights of autumn I can sit before the blaze

And watch a panorama born of all my yesterdays.

I can leave the present burdens and that moment's bit of woe,

And claim once more the gladness of the bygone long ago.

There are no absent faces in the grate fire's merry throng;

No hands in death are folded, and no lips are stilled to song.

All the friends who were are living—like the sparks that fly about;

They come romping out to greet me with the same old merry shout,

Till it seems to me I'm playing once again on boyhood's stage,

Where there's no such thing as sorrow and there's no such thing as age.

I can be the care-free schoolboy! I can play the lover, too!

I can walk through Maytime orchards with the old sweetheart I knew;

I can dream the glad dreams over, greet the old familiar friends

In a land where there's no parting and the laughter never ends.

All the gladness life has given from a grate fire I reclaim,

And I'm sorry for the fellow who can only see the flame.

-Edgar Albert Guest

[wile-e-quixote]

When I say, "church"...

I am blessed to live in a county that has breathtaking mountain ranges and valleys. Redwood trees grander than any cathedral. And some of the most beautiful coastline I've ever seen.

Most rides I'm lucky enough to hit all three in an afternoon. And am ever grateful for it.

As I rip through particularly spectacular Redwood Groves, I squeeze in the clutch lever and let the engine go quiet for a few seconds to pay my respects.

Then I dump the clutch and let 'er eat like the war pig she is. The engine screams to life and I'm off like a shot. Scraping pegs and bending corners on every sweeping, hairpin curve.

See, when I'm touching triple digits, everything melts away but me and my Gods. Everything. For a few breathless moments, we are in perfect communion. The universe feels still, and all is well. I know no better meditation.

...When I say, "church", I mean riding like I'm awaited in Valhalla.

[wile-e-quixote]

Hail o daylight

And daughters of daylight

Hail night, noon, and Northern Star

Hail Kingly Gods and Queens of Asgard

Hail Earth's bosom all abounding

Hands of healing

Hear and grant us

Light in darkness

Life, and wisdom

To both give triumph

Truth unfailing

To both in gladness

Glorious meeting!

[wile-e-quixote]

In a pivotal moment of clarity, as I lay dying in my filthy RV, one handle of vodka after a another... I called my then semi-estranged mom halfway across country and asked for help.

She dropped what she was doing and literally drove nonstop from Texas to California to pick me up and get me help. Over the next few days, we made a haphazard, devil-may-care road trip back across the country, stopping at whatever roadside attraction or vista struck our fancy.

I couldn't just stop drinking cold turkey at that point, so we picked me up a couple tall boys here and there along the way just to keep from seizing up. It was harrowing and beautiful and terrifying and cathartic. We bonded and reconnected and commiserated.

It wound up being the last few days of my drinking before I detoxed in her spare bedroom while we looked for a facility. That roadtrip was the beginning of the rest of my life.

Fast forward a few years...

She had this knife made for me for my birthday. I love it, it's beautiful. But here's the rad part-

The handle is a pinecone we picked up on our roadtrip.

[wile-e-quixote]

A Heathen Firefighter's Prayer

I stand now for my people

I stand now for our land

If this battle prove my end

I die with tool in hand

Surtr slew my loved ones

Surtr razed our lands

We rally now to meet him

Today we make a stand

Your embers do not scare us

Nor wind that stokes your flame

Our iron flattens mountains

Our sky-ships make it rain

We'll wrap you like a serpent

Your blazing we will quench

Your march ends here now at us

You'll not gain another inch

May the Gods now bear us witness

And should any of us fall

May our deeds now buy us favor

And welcome in the Hall