#002: Who's Behind the Hearth & Harrow?
Most people figure out who they are by staring into a mirror. For the rest of us, that mirror is scribbled out onto cream-colored pages.
I was the latter.
I didn’t discover myself in reflections—I found myself in stories. In the vengeance of Edmond Dantès. In the trials of Paul Atreides. In the poetic fire of V.
Funny enough, I was a kid who read plenty … until I didn’t. Somewhere in my immature years, I fell out of reading, and in the process, I lost a part of myself. But, eventually, I stumbled my way back. And when I did, I realized stories weren’t just entertainment. They were a cipher for real life, a way to understand betrayal, conquer fear, and discover that I wasn’t alone in my philosophical thinking.
Some people find these answers in non-fiction. And if you’re one of them, then it’s all well and good, Kemosabe. I just wasn’t. At least, not entirely.
See, I was stubborn as a kid. My parents could lay out all the wisdom in the world, but if it came from them, I wasn’t hearing it. Something in our wiring—the ego, pride, being a twat—makes us reject advice when it’s handed to us directly. It feels like an insult, a judgment, a challenge to our intelligence. And if there’s one thing the human brain hates, it’s feeling like a fool. So we brush it off, pretend we never heard it, pretend it doesn’t matter.
Thankfully, there’s the magic of stories.
A story sneaks past these evolutionary defenses. You read the words, and suddenly the page turns into a mirror. For me, fiction delivered truth in a way real-life advice never could. Even when the lesson was the same one my parents or friends tried to tell me, something about seeing it unfold in a story, seeing yourself in the main character’s shoes, that makes it click.
We all learn differently and at different times in life. That’s why storytellers matter. That’s why we need more of them.
Every lesson in life should be preserved in books—fiction and non-fiction alike—for the simple fact that every person engages with the world in their own way. Usually, it’s aligned with their interests and imagination. Some people learn best through history. Some through philosophy. Others? They prefer sandworms, Fremen, and spice.
Stories made me believe that existence mattered. That what I did mattered. Even in ways I’d never see, even in ways I’d never comprehend—it mattered all the same.
But here I am rambling and I still haven’t answered your question, “Who’s the Madman Behind the Hearth & Harrow?”
The truth is, if I could tell you in plain words, I wouldn’t be me. Fiction always spoke for me better than I could. So, in the spirit of the stories that shaped me, let me introduce myself in the words of a fictional character. One who held a particular vendetta against a traitorous government who contorted the human story for their own benefit.
“Who are you?!” you asked.
Who? Who is but the form following the function of what and what I am is a man masked by a screen.
I don’t mean to question your powers of observation, I’m merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a screened man, who he is.
But on this most auspicious of encounters, permit me then, in lieu of the more commonplace sobriquet, to suggest the character behind the Hearth & Harrow.
…
…
Dévoiler!
In Display, a humble Delirious Dreamer, cast Derisively as both Defendant and Despot by the Disorder of fate.
This Demeanor, no mere Disguise of Delusion, is a Demonstration of the Demos, now Dormant, Deserted.
However, this Dauntless Delinquent of a bygone Disturbance stands Defiant, and has Declared to Defeat these Depraved and Deadly Defilers Dictating Diction and Diminishing the Drastically Destructive and Devouring Desecration of Decision.
The only Direction is Divergence; a Discord held as a Dedication, not in Dismay, for the Duty and Distinction of such shall one day Defend the Daring and the Decent.
Doubtless, this Dumpling of Discourse Drifts into Drudgery, so let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you and you may call me,
D. (from the Fireside)
P.S. If you haven’t seen V for Vendetta, here’s the original scene, Kemosabe: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z4RCK8LAFM0
P.P.S. Now that you know who I am (kind of), I bet you're wondering just why the hell I keep calling you, Kemosabe? Well, it's all right here, in the aptly titled article, "What IS A Kemosabe?"
See ya there. If not, well, then, see ya never, ya soggy bush.
Peace.