Fight for your Dreams

I seem to be fond of seeking out the negative in life. It is often the only thing I can think about. A person’s kindness isn’t always met with thoughts of gratitude, but rather, I aim to discover their selfishly driven motivations.

It is an unhealthy habit, I know, one that I am trying to break. It is because of this habit that I allowed myself to fall prey to the hatred and self-loathing that I found myself in.

Dropping out of school for financial reasons was hard. So too was taking a job that promised enough to cure those financial reasons, though sacrificing my ability to attend school in the process.

That same year seemed riddled with minor and major calamities throughout my entire family. Illness and financial issues seemed to be widespread.

Thus, I was trapped, working to live, while living only to work. I could see no future in the job I had, your typical dead-end gig.

With the bad shape of the economy, I could hardly find any work elsewhere, and so the snare around my neck seemed to tighten even more.

Dreams I had, to become a writer, and to make artistic creations based on old traditions from long ago. To own a small corner of mountains and trees, where I could build a modest home with my own hands, a workshop for my artistic expressions, and live close to the natural world, far from the concerns of everything.

It would seem, though, that throughout the course of my new job, those dreams seemed to drift further and further away, so far out of reach, it had passed beyond the horizon.

How could I ever hope to write and study my true passions, if I was unable to receive an education? How was I to ever purchase a plot of land suitable for my dream home?

The answer, of course, was that I never would, not in my current situation.

The snare tightened further, threatening to cut off my last breath. I was alone to deal with the despair and desperation of what my life had become, and no matter how close a friend was, it seemed that any words of comfort were lost.

They could not know of the true hatred and anger I felt at the world. But further, would never know how much I came to despise myself.

Each fake smile at work, each false compliment given. I had succumbed to despair, and began to decay, because of it.

I was no longer the person I remembered being, or wanted to be. I was something else entirely, and it frightened me.

Then it happened. The great epiphany. It was not some major event that changed the fortunes of everything. It was rather small. A seed planted in my mind that each day grew stronger, until it was a burning desire.

A coworker commented on how life can pass you by. That is it. At the time, I chuckled, realizing that that was indeed what I was doing. Sitting in a stationary, frozen state of time, where work ruled my entire life. A life void of happiness and pleasure, and the simplicity I sought so desperately. Then, a simple quote came to mind. The quote comes from lord of the rings. The scene has the hero Aragorn speaking with the Aowyn about what she fears. She replies as such:

“A cage. To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them and all chance of valor has gone beyond beyond recall or desire.”

Over the course of weeks, then months, this seed emerged as the fiery passion, the knowledge that I must break my tethers; tear at the snare about my neck. It could potentially hurt people I cared for, but I forced that from my mind. I was decaying, becoming a heartless, soulless bastard, and I needed change.

Now, here I am, almost a year later, in a new apartment, a new city, back in school. Though I don’t necessarily have my quiet secluded mountain plot, far from the din of civilization, I am closer now than I ever was. The faint image of my dreams has once again crested the horizon, like the first rays of morning light, piercing the sky.

You must prepare yourself for a harsh road, because the fight for your dreams is the hardest one of your life, but it is also the one that yields the greatest reward.

Now I know that the only person who can stop me from fulfilling my dreams is myself, and that bastard will have a hell of a time trying!

Bone Thor's Hammer

To prevent my bored mind from wandering, I started to carve a hunk of beef bone that had broken off of a femur Mia was chewing apart. It was fun, though time consuming.

 It's shape was triangular to begin with, but through the use of my trusty wood carving tools and the like, I managed to rough out a tiny Thor's hammer.

 Thor's Hammer, or Mjolnir, was a common religious symbol during the viking era, and of the modern Asatru religion of today.

Typically, the pendant would have been made of silver or another metal. The black cord you see for the necklace lace itself is hemp.

I must apologize for the terrible quality photo. One of these days, I may actually get a real camera, and finally stop relying on my crummy phone!

Lost

In the darkness I wandered,
So long was I lost.

Void of existence,
My soul it cost.

Horrors I witnessed,
The anger I felt.

Such pain it had brought
In agony, I knelt.

Though time I found,
A voice spoke.

It called my name,
And I awoke.

Breathing heavy,
Where I lay.

I knew I'd found,
Again, the way.

Wild Cries- Why wolves?

The frosty night air bites fiercely at my face as I linger surrounded by strange, foreign silhouettes. The only light source is the silver orb in the sky, yet the shadows dance and flicker as if alive, animated by a nonexistent fire. I glance ahead through the trunks and branches, unsure of what lies beyond their skeletal forms
A strange foreboding, a fear, of the dark.
Do I dare press onward, and embrace my fate?
I gaze back down the dark forest trail that led me to this spot.

            Will I remember?

            I cannot turn back. Not now.

            An uncertain step forward, towards the row of trees.

            A light snow begins to fall, deafening the woods.

            Still, I linger, withdrawn.

            The silence is shattered by the ghostly cry of a beast, sorrowful. 

            A lost soul, returning home.

            Inhaling deeply, I take a step.

            Another cry echoes through the night, a symphony for the moon.

            It was I who replied, unknowing.

            A warmth fills me, staving off the cold.

           Ahead, the forest seems less dark, and I venture into the unknown.

 This, I feel, is a good way to explain why I decided to go with the name "Whispers of Wild Wolves."

It may come off as particularly cheesy, with the triple W's and all. Hopefully, this will help reveal why I selected such a name.

I cannot even think back to a time where wolves have not been a recurring theme in my life. Almost obsessively, I have had a strange interest in the misunderstood creatures.

Perhaps it was their mysterious ways, their strong familial bonds, or their shy nature that attracted me. 

 Their embodiment of freedom and the wilderness contrasting their constant persecution and hunting was a poetic song I felt strongly for.

Whatever it was, they filled my dreams, both waking and asleep. Wolf symbolism always caught my eye, and I felt a closeness to the animal that I cannot quite explain. 

It was through this strange obsession that I found my other passions. As if they whispered to me, setting me on my path, I found writing, as well as blacksmithing, two things that would ordinarily not go hand in hand.

The wild northern ways of the vikings, and their immense amount of wolf symbolism caught my eye immediately, and urged me forward. I began to teach myself bladesmithing techniques through trial and error, along with the help of the folks at Don Fogg's Bladesmith Forum. Never in my experience on the internet have I found such a caring and kind, friendly community, free of rude behavior and negativity. For that I am grateful.

And so, if you have stuck with me through this post, I thank you. This is a side of me that is ever trying to breach the gates, though I seldom allow through.  

Thanks for reading

Daniel

War's Loss

While I enjoy a good poem, I myself am terrible at writing them. That doesn't keep me from trying, however. The following is a poem by myself, in an attempt to improve my skills.

War's Loss

Take my hand, grip it tight
Here we stand, ready to fight
Night is cold,
Shadows come,
Feel your fingers going numb?

Raise your head to the sky,
This may be the day we die.
Drawing blade,
Driving home,
Left ever to linger alone.

What has war and death wrought?
Was it right to have fought?
Her demise,
Soul broken,
For me, no words left be spoken.

It is the end don't you see,
Fallen away a part of me.
Creeping Ice,
Nights fall,
At last, I hear a faint call.

Home it cries, my ruined soul,
Will it again make me whole?
Warming touch,
Soft embrace,
Again, I come to see her face.

Rising light in the sky,
Driving out nocturnal lies.
Moon's rise,
Hope's return,
Feeling the love that I yearn.

Through Shadows, now we've found our end.
Yet tender touch, wounds will mend.

Jornfell a handmade battleaxe

Jornfell is a handmade battleaxe styled after a Norse Dane axe, though the shaft I gave it was slightly shorter than typical axes of that style.

It's name, Jornfell, means "Iron mountain"in Old Norse, which is carved in Elder Futhark Runes on the hickory wood shaft. Motifs of jagged mountains and snow-capped peaks adorn the wood, in an attempt to capture the spirit of the cold northern lands that were the inspiration for this piece.

 This was my first completed and sold work of art, and was a major learning experience for me. I plan on returning to bladesmithing, including axes, once I get a much more permanent location for a workshop, as currently, college finds me in a cramped studio with my wolf hybrid Miakoda. Not exactly the most ideal workshop, but I still manage, somehow.

Jornfell sold for $125.00 and was sent to its' new home.

Introduction

Hello,

           My name is Daniel Johnson, and I am an aspiring writer, Blacksmith, and Bladesmith living in Logan, Utah. I believe that truly, we are always learning and honing our crafts, especially when it comes to bladesmithing. As notable bladesmith, (one I would consider a master) Dave Stephens said, "The trick is to accept the quest as a worthy pursuit unto itself. Realize you never arrive at a destination, but only at a checkpoints along the way, and the journey becomes the goal." With this in mind, I focus on always learning and improving, in the knowledge that there will always be someone more skilled than I, but that I will get there through hard work.

          The purpose of this blog will be to record my thoughts, ideas, and projects on my bladesmithing, Woodworking, and writing, as well as other profound interests, ideas, or beliefs I feel important.

          Now, as for my inspiration, I gain it through mythology and the natural world. Especially North mythology, and the vikings. I am very drawn to nature and heroic poems of ages past, and I hope that it shows in my work. Thank you for stopping by and visiting my page, I hope you enjoy my work, as well as my words.