Finding Truth in the Wild

Blood or blisters.

Either of those on my hands at the end of the day means I’ve earned it.

Earned my sleep. Earned the right to call myself a man. It sounds like macho posturing. I guess everything needs a label. So be it.

The feeling is primal and deep, pure and unfiltered.

It is not an emotion I gleaned from reality television or the newest lifestyle magazine. It cuts through the everyday bullshit and reminds me that I did something today. Something real. Something that will leave a scar. Continue reading