Chris was in a good place, everything was coming up roses, all of his plans were on track or even ahead of schedule. Even his personal and romantic life was flowing smoothly, everyone was more than happy with him right now, yet something was bugging hims. He kept looking into the mirror, expecting to see the smile everyone loved, and seeing a resting face that looked like it was waiting for news it wasn’t going to like. He had come to the park to think. Away from people, down among the trees and silence Chris was free to set aside the almost aggressive optimism he faced the world with. There was something around the sunny edges of his world that was threatening to cast a shadow across his future, and he couldn’t see what it was. Maybe it was him, maybe in the absence of external conflict he was creating his own? Muttering a phrase he got from one of those eternally cheerful memes that pass themselves off as deep, when pretty much they just reassure you that you don’t actually need to think or change, you are already fine he was surprised when his words were answered from outside his head.
“There are two wolves within each of us” Chris muttered absently as he strode between the trees. Be damned if he could remember how the meme ended, but before he could dig up the memory, a loud rasping laugh derailed his train of thought in untidy flaming wreckage.
“Boy if you have two wolves in you, you are some kind of screwed. I saw someone come close once. Poor tyke zigged when he should of zagged, or maybe a passing Valkyrie thought he had a nice ass, because he caught about a two second burst from a PK(M) machinegun from left hip to lower right floating rib. His kibbly bits got sort of spread about an arm length or so on either side of him. Two wolves came to play tug of war over his gut-sausage, and from the look on his face, I don’t think it was as much fun as it sounds”
The old man was wearing an old green gabardine coat, looking like something out of an old WWI or WWII officer’s kit, and holding two hot dogs. With a wink from the one eye showing from the shaggy grey hair that hung down over his craggy face, he tossed one hot dog in the air and his two hounds, great shaggy long jawed husky cross breeds that must have been part moose to be nearly that size snapped jaws as long as Chris’ forearm down on the hot dog, then snarling proceeded to tear it apart in grim demonstration of what two wolves playing tug of war with a dying man’s intestines might look like. Chris shuddered, his mind caught in the image of a battlefield so far removed from his world of meetings and deal making.
The old man looked Chris up and down slowly, and for a second, his gaze reminded Chris of his grandfathers. Chris’ grandfather had been an electrician, worked building and renovating homes most of his life, and retired to a slightly less demanding position working to maintain a local mills electrical systems. The old man had listened patiently to Chris as a child trying to spin whatever misadventure had gotten him into trouble, and stripped it of all the layers of spin and shading to leave a very small and clear picture of a mistake he would then ask Chris how he planned on fixing. Over the years Chris got a whole lot better at not making mistakes, but few enough of his business partners, or romantic ones had ever had the knack of stripping away all Chris’ spin and sleight of hand to point out where his substance didn’t quite cover the cheques his style had written. Nodding slowly, the old man pointed to his huge dogs.
“Anyone who has two wolves in them is about out of problems, but I will tell you a secret about running with wolves for real boy. I run with two. One is named Word”
He pet the right hand hound who preened under his hand like a puppy and not a two hundred pound murder machine. He continued.
“The second one is called Deed. They are brothers, Word and Deed, but like most brothers, they are competitive and quarrelsome.”
The second wolf let his wide white mouth fall open cheerfully, floppy tongue playfully lapping at the old man’s hand, long white teeth as long as Chris’ fingers flashing dangerously in the sunlight.
The old man looked seriously at his one remaining hot dog, then at the two dogs, and lastly at Chris. His grin was a flash like lightning, bright and then gone as his face turned to cold unforgiving stone. His tone went playful, but Chris felt his body go very still, as a rabbit will when it finds itself trapped under an eagle’s gaze.
“Now I wouldn’t say this applies to you. Perish the thought, far to wise to fall into this trap, yet I have known men who fell into this trap, rose high in might and fame, fell in flames and fury, leaving no name worth owning and a huge expensive mess for better men and women to clean up. These poor fools ran with wolves, like many of us do, and they knew how to get the most out of the gifts they had. You see, they took great care to feed one wolf, they fed Word, and he was happy and grew strong and bright, pulling them onward and upward to glory and fame.”
With a flourish the old man tossed the hot dog off to his right, and the one hound lunged to take the dog in his mighty jaws. It disappeared in three happy gulps. The big dog gave a happy skip and twirled and thoughtless spin that casually knocked Chris to the ground, then he proceeded to lick the prostrate business man, causing him to laugh.
The old man smiled indulgently, and his voice softened a bit from the heavy sarcasm of before, becoming almost gentle.
“Now that is fine, that is good, but look behind you boy.”
Chris looked over his shoulder, and his laughter froze in his throat, the other dog was eyeing him with cold hungry eyes that seemed to shine in the shadows like moonlight on a knife edge. A low throbbing growl sounded from the dog, who looked less like an over large puppy and more like two hundred pounds of tireless killing machine, the kind of wolf that spawned ten thousand years of scary stories whispered around fires, staring outward at the hungry dark and the shadows that haunt and hunt it. Chris’ bladder made it clear it was seriously considering the kind of failure he had last experienced in kindergarten. The old man continued casually.
“Nothing wrong with feeding Word boy. Nothing wrong with fame, with glory, and oh the adoring looks in a fair maids eyes. Gods know no one has ever accused me of being humble but I will tell you boy, its just not safe to feed Word alone. Word and Deed boy, feed them equal and you can outrun the sun, reach the moon, and never miss a step. Feed Word and not Deed, and the day will come, Deed will have his due, and you won’t like it when he takes his own, rather than you giving it. Understand me boy?”
Chris felt it then, the weight not of the old man’s gaze, nor even the snarling maw of the wolf, but the weighing gaze of his grandfather, stripping away the spin, stripping away the style, and weighing carefully the substance with a craftsman’s care, and a builder’s eye for what will last. He let a long sighing breath out. That was it, that was the thought that had been nagging him, the shadow that would not be banished no matter how much sunlight he threw it. His grandfather wasn’t the only one who could see the substance behind the style, Chris never really fooled himself either. He guessed he had been cutting more corners than he should because he could convince everyone he had things under control. Maybe it was time to take some time to make sure he actually did. Style got him the chance to show what he could build, but it was substance in the end that either proved you built something that would last or not.
Getting up carefully, Chris nodded to the old man. Avoiding admitting any wrongdoing as carefully as the old man avoided accusing him of it, Chis dusted himself off, and gestured back to the hot dog cart and offered.
“It occurred to me sir that in thanks for your advice, it would please me if I might purchase a hot dog for Deed so he can match Word more closely. I would take it as a favour if you would allow me to get some for us as well,”
The old man nodded, and the two men and great hounds moved towards the hot dog vendor. His voice sounded one more time, this time sounding more human and less like judgement itself.
“Very hospitable of you son. I approve. Its always a good idea to keep Word and Deed equally fed.”
——We have a problem in our society with these two wolves, Word and Deed. Almost everyone feeds them enough, but rarely do they feed them equally, and the problems are hurting us.
On the whole, we see larger than life figures who feed Word almost exclusively, politics is home to many of them, rewarding style over substance with the chance to write bigger and bigger cheques their substance can’t cash.
Our own Heathen ranks have seen some spectacular examples of this, big name train wrecks that have cost us a lot, and left us juicy gossip to keep insiders in stories for generations. I won’t lie, this is most common among our menfolk. Sorry guys, I am one of you and this is the side we tend to err on when we cast off the chains of false Christian modesty (empowring hypocrites and cheating people of actual worth since year zero current era).
The other error is those who feed only Deed, but not Word. These are the selfless, self effacing, frequently women, who give far more than they take, and take no credit for it. They are not getting in proportion to their giving, and thus are hurt by participation in our community, being drained of strength through their offerings when balancing Word and Deed would see them gaining the word-fame and status their actions deserve, returning to them twice the energy they invested and empowering rather than burning them out.
Our ancestors understood the use of the boast and the brag to dare us to great works, to inspire us at the struggle and triumph of those in our community to better empower our own drive to achieve our own goals. They understood to boast in a community like ours meant that Word and Deed would be measured to the ounce, and the difference between them noted, frequently loudly or in catchy verse if the balance was bad enough.
Feed the wolves, dare great things, but feed them evenly. Match your deeds to your words, and if you can’t reach your stated goal, own it, and make the next goal one you can reach. Build your worth solidly, don’t blow up a baloon of unrealistic expectations and wait for wyrd to supply the pin to pop it. It will.
mainer74 