2001-10-24 - 1:34 p.m.
Two weeks ago an event occurred that caused me to rethink a severe hang up of mine. My good friend was knighted. It has been 5 years since I last fought. Now I know there are a few of you who have seen me in armor a few times since then, but it was not me on the field. You see, five years ago I found myself looking at someone I did not like. He was ruthless, and un-chivalrous, he hurt people for fun, and broke those he saw as a threat to his prowess. He would take no blows from an opponent, while striking with such power as to cause people to quit the game, and the proof of this was his knight had given up and abandoned him. This was the poison that was coursing through me, and I was afraid of it. It is amazing what the words of one man were able to do to me. Amazing how one man could cause me to doubt myself. How one man could spread lies so thick that it caused me to believe they were true. How one man could cause me to turn so bitter a gaze upon a game I so truly loved. I had become so disgusted with what I thought I had become, afraid of what I thought I had become. So I quit.
The problem is I am not a quitter, so I had to lie to myself and those around me. I made up excuses for why I no longer fought. I was injured, I was too fat, I had more important thing to do, I didn�t like how fighting had degenerated in to a giant dick game, where everything was all about who�s ass you could kick. I rationalized it very well, and I became bitter. I told myself that I no longer respected the chivalry. That fighting would accomplish nothing for me in the long run. That it had been too long, and I couldn�t do it anymore. I became bitter towards my knight for abandoning me when I needed him the most (He, in fact, never abandoned me. Life, work, children, illness, and geography all got in the way.) And I resented my friends who still fought and had fun doing it. To all of you�I am sorry.
I heard a wonderful lady once say that the SCA, for better or worse, revolved around the tourney field. For me, I must say this is true. I tried hard to find a replacement for the comraderie I found on the field. For the feeling of accomplishment I had after a good hard day of fighting. Or for the excitement I found while facing an opponent on the list. I tried replacing fighting with service. But part of me still felt empty. I tried replacing fighting with the arts. But I was still lonely. Yet I clung to my bitterness like a lifejacket. I would not go back to fighting. I fed off comments made to me like: mace fighting is stupid. You will never become a Knight unless you change, and become what �they� want you to become. You will never be a knight caliber fighter if you continue to use a mace. Great sword has no place on the field any more. Pole arm is only useful in wars. And so on.
Two weeks ago these lies that had settled in my heart were shattered. See, a good friend was knighted, and he did it on his own, and by his rules. He didn�t change to make �them� happy. He played his game how he wanted to. He has had as much poison spread about him as I did. Only he did not let it control him. He had pulled himself back from the edge of this dark hole that I fell in.
Two weeks ago I got my squire's belt back from someone whom I truly respect. I had given it to him because I did not feel as if I deserved to wear it. I wanted to see it worn proudly and with honor. And it was. On the day when my friend was knighted I had hoped he would keep that belt. I didn�t feel as if I deserved it. It wasn�t mine. I had quit. I was not worthy of wearing it any more and a million other excuses why I did not deserve that belt. Yet that evening, a knight called me over to him, and gave me back my squire�s belt. He said �Thank you for giving this to me. I was an honor to wear it, and now I want to return it to its rightful owner.� There was no hiding anymore. Twice now I have been given a squire's belt by a knight. Many times my friends have told me that the words a man once said of me were lies. Many times my friends have told me things are not as I perceive them. Many times have those that I care for tell me I should not worry about what folks tell me, but follow what is in my heart.
Life is what you make of it, not what someone else makes for you. Lies or truth �it has been so long I can no longer tell them apart, but I feel as if getting my belt back, I have been given another chance. Why it took me this long to start listening to my friends�who knows. Perhaps I was just being mule-headed. But regardless of the whys or the hows�the result remains the same.
My new gauntlets should arrive next week. My shield has been finished. My mace is being rebuilt. And I look forward to standing with you again on the field my friends. My mace ever ready. And with your patience and help I am sure that this time I can outrun that shadows and lies that have plagued me for years.
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