What’s Your Story?

What’s your story?

My name is David, and I’m the guy behind Dragontail Forge. I guess I’m supposed to tell you my story, write a mission statement, and convince you to buy something because of my compelling and ingenious wordsmithing.

What I really want to do here is remind you that your story isn’t over.

I didn’t start out as a bladesmith. I wasn’t raised in the home of a skilled craftsman, or even in a home that respected people who actually worked for a living. I didn’t learn how to use my hands until I was in my late twenties, which is to say not that long ago at all.

After leaving the U.S. Army, I spent a lot of time sulking and wondering if I’d ever experience the friendship, purpose, and direction I’d had while in the military ever again. It felt like my best had been given over and used up.

I went into EMS, then wildland fire, then 911 dispatching. Nothing seemed to fill the hole. I wasn’t of service, and therefore I was useless.

I spiraled into a depression so black there’s no way I could ever describe that pit. If you know, you know.

My story was over.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

Among other things (most importantly, my family), learning how to make knives quite literally saved my life. It helped me get out of my head, wake up, and notice what I was doing not only to myself but to my family and the people around me.

I submitted myself to the fire, yielded to the anvil, and surrendered to the hammer. I became something else entirely.

Every knife I make has a story waiting to be told. It’s your job to tell it.

Like mine, your story isn’t over.

Far from it.

Let’s tell your story together, get you out of the pit, and back into the wilds of life.

Out of the dark and into the light.

There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations - these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit - immortal horrors or everlasting splendors. This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously - no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption.

C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory