In the beginning, was the axe. A simple hickory shaft. A forged iron head. A simple but powerful collaboration of materials, born of the land it worked, and wielded by men with no fear, but full of determination.
It felled the trees that fueled the fires of pioneering homesteads. It blazed a path for the iron rails that would stretch from sea to sea. It cleared an untamed land where settlements would grow into cities. It built a nation.
Today, it builds men. And women, naturally. It chops through the squishy veneer created by vinyl siding, manicured lawns, and waxy pomade. It fells firmly held beliefs in the power of Wi-Fi, microbead cleansers, and 5-blade safety razors. It exposes a person sick of emojis, hybrid minivans, and participation medals.
Time to return to the land. Wrap your fingers around the axe, and feel its ancient powers flame anew.
It reveals calloused hands, capable of building confidence if not countries. It coaxes out a rugged body, with the power to metaphorically scale timbers. It smudges dirt on the face, the hands, and the soul. It lets loose an adventurous spirit that revels in a newfound freedom.
In the beginning was the axe, and the power of the axe endures.