Succeeded

“To have overcome suffering.
To have sacrificed greatly.
To have walked back into the darkness at the calls of those still trapped inside.
To have helped many,
and mourned those whom you had failed.”

Behind every word I write is a propellant. I was introduced to the poet who pioneered and led the transcendentalist movement of the 19th century when I was in 4th grade. My family had only recently relocated to the rural outcroppings of south central Alaskan city life when, in an effort to calm some of the adolescent uncertainty I was experiencing, instigated by yet another relocation of my youth, my mother handed me a piece of paper with a poem written on it. I sat in the passenger seat of her car as it delivered me to my first day of school in a new district. The words were written in a cryptically dated type of calligraphy but they punched a hole in my doubt as I began to read the list of criteria the author claimed would garner success. Some of them spring to the forefront of my mind and inspire my work, still to this day. “To appreciate beauty.” A must when writing about your present life. “To win the respect of intellectual people and the affection of children.” How could one expect to write about the end of their life and beyond, without this vital component tucked into their belt? “To endure the betrayal of false friends.” Without first suffering this, how can one truly emulate a valid perception of overcoming or triumph over challenges in such time or tale already passed? “To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.” I dare you to present a better or more noble purpose. “This,” Waldo writes, “is to have succeeded.”

Since reading those words for the first time, my life has culminated in immeasurable suffering. Trial and tribulation and turmoil have been the nutritional staple for which I have been left to thrive on. Though, please don’t worry about me. I have learned to embrace suffering and, as a result, my life has been full of purpose. I am not a hedonist. I will trade purpose for pleasure ten out of ten times. My anecdotal experiences have changed my perception a bit, however. I don’t aim to challenge the assertions of Emerson in this poem. More so, I aim to celebrate them. The man was wise and his words have guided me through both darkness and light. If I could, I would thank him. Because I cannot, I will simply write this:   

To have walked in the wild,
and to have shared a bond with a creature of.

To have taken control of your mind,
and to have stifled your fear.

To have created a desideratum,
and to have met a need.

To tell a story which provokes a smile, and a tear.

To have been a good guy,
not a nice guy,
and to have understood the difference.

To have denied nonsensical axioms.
To have proudly and defiantly worn the moniker of a scofflaw, in a time of unjust regulation.

To have overcome suffering.
To have sacrificed greatly.
To have walked back into the darkness at the calls of those still trapped inside.
To have helped many,
and mourned those whom you had failed.

To have cherished liberty, and to have defended it at severe cost.

To have ignited the fire in a good woman’s heart, and to have silenced her doubt.
To have earned the respect of honorable men, and the adoration of a child.
To have been so inspired by a poet or artist,
and to have paid tribute to their work,
in your own liking.

To have finally found peace.
To have helped your brothers do the same.
To have lived with demons and walked with titans.
To have accepted them both only for what they are.

To have chosen life.

This is to have succeeded.

Hanging on the wall in my office, just to the east of my overburdened bookshelf and just to the north of my cluttered fly-tying table, is a picture frame divided into five blocks. The four outlying blocks are smaller than the fifth, of which they border. In the smaller blocks are photographs of my family. A couple of my mom and dad holding each other closely while they stand on the wet sand of Cannon Beach, another of my little brother with his left foot perched on an Arizonan rock wall ruin from the ancient Anasazi colony tour we partook in as kids. A photo taken on one of the rare occasions when I dress purdy – I believe it was the night of my Junior year winter formal. In the center block, Emerson’s original poem, titled “To Have Succeeded,” is printed in Italic font. I cannot recall a moment in recent time when I have sat down at this computer to type out whatever thoughts I had manifested on my last walk through the woods, and have not first looked over to read those timeless words. If you haven’t read it, or any of Emerson’s works, I can’t encourage you enough to do so. Blatantly put, his literature is haunting. 

Author’s Note:

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story and all the content associated with it. As an avid sportsman, I hope that this tale inspires you to get outside to enjoy the wild with the ones you love most. I write these stories as a supplement to my lifestyle as a sportsman and guide, and with them comes a certain accountability. The details of my stories are purely based on my recollection alone and in no particular way do they reflect a chronologically factual, indisputable timeline of events. They are in no way intended for official use or as a reference for official purposes. These are simply tall tales meant to entertain the tired mind; best served with a clear evening, a warm fire and, a strong whiskey.

All the photos and content featured in my tall tales are my own, unless expressly cited otherwise, and the unauthorized use or reproduction of them is strictly prohibited. That’s all for now, my friends. If you enjoyed this content and would like to see more like it, I can be found on Instagram by searching “Authentically Wild Out West” and on YouTube by searching the same phrase. Until the next campfire, stay safe out there and look after each other.

On another quick note: I’ve launched a new publication on Substack, specifically to showcase my serialized fiction and poetry! 

I hope you’ll join me there! Follow THIS LINK to have a look. 

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Come Fish & Hunt in Wyoming With Me!

If you’ve been reading my tall tales and outdoor articles for a while, you have probably recognized that much of my writings revolve around anecdotes. I live these stories, here in one of the last truly wild places on Earth and now as a full-time guide, I’d like to extend an invitation to you: 

Come experience this prestigious place with me. 

You can do this by reaching out to Wyoming Fishing Company and exploring the many options we have available to accommodate your next fishing, waterfowl, upland bird, small game, or predator hunting adventure. We can facilitate small & large groups alike or offer a one-on-one guided experience. Come make some memories this season! I’m already looking forward to adventuring with you.

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