CHAPTER 3 - "See Your Reflection"
There is a mist settled about my head, the wispy breath of morning-time.
It’s always in the morning I think clearly about the battles of the night before.
Every night is a brawl with myself, and each morning I see myself plainly reflected in the water I’m drinking.
I’m bent over, my fur stands on end.
I drink deeply.
Even in the ripples I see myself.
And that is a reflection—meditation—I must make each morning.
Who is this Dog that came through the night?
Who overcame such a ragged brawl?
And who am I on this new day?
My eyes are still hungry, my neck unchained, my breathing deep and even. My teeth and claws are sharp, my smell is wild: savage reminders of my past. I bleed where the enemy cuts, whimper when he steps on my neck, and pant when I eventually overcome him.
I am bone and muscle, but I am something else.
What am I that I fight so eagerly with doubt and danger?
The doubts are my own, the dangers assault me from the outside.
I doubt my preparedness for the toils of combat, my ferocity, my ability to persevere through any mud.
I doubt that the moon will rise some nights, or the sun the next day.
Others are ashamed of their doubts.
Doubts paralyze them, their hearts race. Their eyes widen and they cower. But I am eager to face my doubts. Doubts push me toward combat: I want to understand and dismantle these invasive uncertainties.
My heart rate steadies and my eyes narrow.
I lunge, calm and decided, eager for this fight.
Eager for its beginning and end.
Doubt—insecurity and uncertainty—can only call my name. He cannot chain me down to be eaten alive during the nighttime. Standing here, now, I see that I have overcome doubt one more time. And I am better for it.
Ah, but danger abounds.
Even on this new day, the darkness of nighttime gone, I am in danger.
I am in danger of resting too long, falling asleep in the sun. Dreaming, even.
What does a Dog dream of?
Effort?
Sacrifice?
Blood and rain?
But if his grass is too soft, he might dream of softness.
And if his water turns to wine, he might only dream of sloth and gluttony.
The Dog must live for his Pack, wrestle with his purpose, and move toward savage wisdom. Only then will the dangers of softness, sloth, and gluttony—so powerful and abundant—keep their distance. Only then will his dreams be of effort, sacrifice, blood, and rain. Only then will doubts lose their grip and slip from his throat.
These are the meditations of morning-time, the savage musings and recollections of a creature reborn with sunrise.
I am bone and muscle—my enemies know this—but I am something else.
And it is this something else which I become each night, and which I see staring back at me each morning.
Come stand with me.
Drink deeply.
See your reflection.
Let The Dog Eat.
Reflecting, what kind of dog am I?
BIG DAWGS GOTTA EAT 🐺🍽🍽
I fuck with the brand so much not just cause of the amazing dewing of the clothes and the quality but the message and one can sometimes relate to ltde in the aspect of feeling down and defeated but just cant give up because the dog in one doesn’t let him. Keep it up 🐺🐺🐺
“Doubts paralyze them, their hearts race. Their eyes widen and they cower. But I am eager to face my doubts.” Every chapter is a description of how powerful we are when we LET THE DOG EAT
Such an inspiring message and vision that you are cultivating within this brand. It is so much more than a brand, it’s a lifestyle, and you are such an influential and extraordinary artist behind it all.
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