Tilting at Windmills

But!

I have extensive training and certifications in Crisis Intervention, Suicide Prevention, Psychological First Aid, Critical Incident Stress Management and am qualified to lead formal debriefings after major events.

Wait, lemme back up a bit.

I took an interest in the mental health side of my job after a heartbreaking call in which a teen girl lost her mother very unexpectedly.

After the CPR is done, after the medic officially calls time of death, we remain on scene until law enforcement and the coroner show up and take over.

This particular time it took about 20 minutes. Not great, but definitely been much worse.

So I usher my crew outside to give the family some privacy, and for 20 minutes we just stood around in their driveway like a bunch of pendejos while this poor girl just wailed and cried hysterically. Absolutely inconsolable.

It was devastating. I am haunted by her screams to this day. Her trauma literally traumatized ME.

But it drove me to find a way to continue to be useful to my community even after the CPR is done.

I found a Psychological First Aid course online, and was inspired to keep searching for more. To press onward down this new path within my field.

I now have the aforementioned qualifications and am considered the "mental health guy" in my department. I also head up the Peer Support Team, and have become the ear everyone spills their troubles into.

And I think I'm adept at brokering good mental health. I mean... They keep pouring their hearts out on me, so I must be SOME solace, right? I hope.

Anyway. For mental health calls, we are often forced to stage outside the area until law enforcement secures the scene.

And sometimes it's warranted.

But often... They only escalate and make everything worse.

It's super frustrating because I feel I am well equipped to deal with many of these calls and could have the situation under control before they even show up.

But I'm not allowed.

So.

A couple weeks ago we were called for a suicidal female outside of a business.

Dispatch informed us that law had an extended response time and to stage at my own discretion.

So naturally I said eff all that, and went in.

I had my crew stay in the engine and just keep an eye on me while I made contact with the woman. Be ready to flee if a gun appears and let dispatch know I'm now a dead, but well-meaning fool.

But it went as well as I hoped it would. I talked to her like a human being, and listened with genuine empathy. I was able to sit on the curb next to her after a while and she started pouring her heart like people seem to do. A meaningful conversation and a few little psychological "hacks" (for lack of a better word) peppered in here and there...And she was ready to get help. And get in the ambulance on her own, knowing that a hold and facility are next.

And law never even made it to scene.

So NOW I'm rallying to challenge policy from in-house, to dispatch, to law.

I mean ... I can fucking help if you'd let me!

Im well aware of the inherent danger, fully understand the possible outcomes, and accept that I could die.

No income, no license, nothing but a few changes of clothes, and a couple cherished books. I had burned almost every bridge, and destroyed everything important in my life.

It was the most humbling period of my life this far. But I was willing.

If you know anything about AA, you know it's a spiritual program. It requires you to have a higher power. Bring your own, make one up, whatever... But get in touch with something greater than yourself.

I had been somewhat estranged from my Gods for a while, and honestly, ashamed to face them. But needed them more than ever.

So I aggressively reestablished connections and did my best to mend relationships. I greeted them every morning. Thanked them for my blessings every night. Journaled in runes, reread the edda... Anything and everything I could think of to get right.

The one thing I didn't have with me was any of my rune sets. Which used to be a fairly prominent part of my spirituality.

So I scraped together a few bucks, walked myself down to harbor freight, and bought a cheap engraver.

When I got back to the house, I immediately set about scratching a set into the cheapest, portable, uniform, and durable material I could find.

Keep in mind the utter desperation driving me at that point. I poured my soul into these roughshod runes.

I then used them more than I had ever used a set. And with infinitely deeper purpose. I've cried into them more times than I could count. And they've gone everywhere with me ever since.

I have a bond with them I can't articulate. They know me. They're tuned to me. And now one of my greatest treasures.

I spent the next 20 years longing for the connection with nature I took for granted as a kid.

A little spot in the mountains to call my own was the grandest (tangible) thing I've ever wanted from this life.

One incredible lifetime later, I finally got my couple acres up in the very mountains that watched me grow up in the valley below.

I am often so overcome with gratitude for my mountaintop, I just stare in awe. Mesmerized. Thanking the soil beneath my feet. The trees providing me shade. The very air filling my lungs.

It means everything to me, and I take my stewardship seriously. I've put SOOO much work... So much blood, sweat, and LOVE into this mountain, it's unrecognizable from the unkempt, uncared for, and overgrown gnarl it was when I moved in 3 years ago.

And I nurture an excellent relationship with the wights therein.

Ok. Phew.

Now that you understand what my mountain home means to me, you can appreciate this story.

There is a spot just outside the treeline that is just breathtaking. I feel the magic there. I spend hours just... Being... in that clearing.

My wife and I decided to camp out there for the first time the other night to stargaze and watch the Perseids.

May you all know the awe I experienced.

In the biggest of moments. The life or death moments. The glory moments.

When the hoselay is burned over and if you can't get through the ever-exploding flames with just a handtool to repair it, everyone down the hill in the brush at the nozzle is going to die.

My Gods are there.

Or when you're 3 rounds of CPR in on a kid on the side of the road by yourself, just praying backup gets there quickly, when suddenly he gasps and opens his eyes. And those eyes that were dull and lifeless just a moment ago meet yours... and glimmer.

My Gods are there.

When hundreds of Engines thunder away from basecamp at the same time to form the biggest host Surtr has ever faced.

My Gods are there.

But those moments are few and far between.

Most often their presence is subtle. An ever present grace easily overlooked.

A gentle kiss of sunlight after a slight chill.

The stillness of a snow covered morning.

The creak of Redwood trees swaying in unison.

The exhale of waves falling back into the sea.

A breathtaking sunset that somehow feels is just for you.

My Gods are there. Part of all of it.

So while the grand moments are spectacular, I maintain our relationships in the subtle ones.

He's mindlessly pushing fries around his plate with another fry when without lifting his head he begins to speak.

"Sooo... My therapist thinks I should get tested for autism." He says as he lifts his head to rejoin the table.

"Huh..." I acknowledge, suddenly deep in thought myself. "Well, that tracks. Explains a lot actually." I reply after a few moments of reflection.

"Yeeeah." He agrees with a beginnings of a smirk. "He ALSO says that if I do have it, I likely got it from a parent." He says now fully smirking, and looking me dead in the eye.

"Huh." I reply, and reflect for a moment. Then it hits me. "Ah... We don't think it's your mom, do we?"

"Nooo." He answers with amusement.

"Huh. That tracks too." I say as millions of dots are suddenly connected. "Explains a lot actually."

I don't ask my Gods for anything other than their attention when I am about to undertake something worthy of their attention in the first place. Like... leading men into battle.

With that mindset, my hardest struggles, my biggest fights, become my grandest opportunities to shine.

We are our deeds.

I also realized during a harrowing event a couple years ago, that I fully embrace the norse brand of fate and fatalism. In that, the day we die is fixed. Nothing we do can change that. 

So if today IS my day, I might as well go out doing something epic.

But if it is NOT my day, then I needn't worry. And... Might as well do something epic.

So. 

The prayer I say while en route to any emergency that may very well be my end is,

"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!"

But the perfect prayer, the succinct sentiment I attempt to convey to my Gods, the words I utter as the fight is about to land at our feet and we are taking what might be our last moments to steel our resolve to protect everything and everyone that lies behind us, my MUTHAFUCKIN WARCRY...

Witness me.

And honestly, the way things are going? A post apocalyptic wasteland in which a good spear is VERY practical seems a more probable scenario by the day... I digress. Tuckin' that'n in my pocket for a writing prompt another day though.

Anyway! After years of struggling to justify this purchase, I had two dreams in less than a week in which I wielded the everloving buhjeebus out of a spear in "last stand" type circumstances in the course of protecting refugees of some kind.

Another plausible scenario unfortunately.

Totally tracks. I was also really impressed with how effective it was. I remember thinking during the melee that "Holy shit! I can stack em with this thing! I'm going to take way more with me than I would've guessed!"

Naturally that was all nudging from the universe I needed and finally, FINALLY ordered one.

Of course I have to make it my own.

So I used the opportunity to make a statement about the sacredness of the runes and profound ancient scribblings in rafters that some folk take waaay too seriously.

In addition to some deliberately cheesy skulls and symbols peppered throughout -

The larger font reads, "FAFO"

While the banner says, "oops I did it again" and "it's Britney BITCH"

On account of her name.

Britney.

Britney Spear.

Oh... And a big peen at the tip. Because Freyr.

ANNNYWAY...

I've had it with me at the station last few shifts, and I'm noticing an interesting phenomenon.

My telescope is like a psychiatrist's couch to my firefighters.

I've had more serious heart-to-heart conversations over the last few evenings up here at my moon peekin' pad, than I have in the last month.

I don't know what it is, but it is definitely an accidental Captain's tool I intend to continue utilizing.

Come lads and ladies, gaze in awe at the heavens and let spill your troubles into the night.

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.

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.

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

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-

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