Such a fine coincidence the other day.
A mood of general despair and “I can’t pull this off” had begun to dominate my mind. And then a wee voice in the back of my mind told me to read the Eddas. I’m glad I did. Just proceeding through the Asatru Edda in regular order, I suddenly came across Heimdall’s story of how he came to Midgard as a child and grew up among us, teaching and learning at the same time.
And when he passed down his sacred laws shortly before the end of his mortal existence, I had an epiphany.
Sometimes we fail. There cannot be any avoiding it. We will all face no-win scenarios. But how we conduct ourselves in failure is no less important than how we conduct ourselves in triumph.
Job Corps may beat me. The isolation from family, friends, and my beloved homeland may break me before I emerge victorious.
This is a real possibility.
But it is a worthy fight, and Heimdall would not wish me to just lay down without doing anything and everything.
Thus far I have been a coward, wanting no more than to flee and go home to safe and familiar things.
And I will eventually return.
But Heimdall’s story has inspired me, and every fight with dragon is glorious, even if the end is not particularly… dignified.
What’s the difference between a good dragon slayer and a bad one? The good one doesn’t come home chewed up, burned, and covered in dragon shit.
But we always hope that both come home.
The bad will wash off with time. Wounds and indignities will heal, even if they leave scars.
But I hear chicks go wild for guys with battle scars… ;D