What Trolls do you need to vanquish? Once thought only to exist in children’s fairy tales are in fact very real. Their intent is to destroy, their method is by inciting fear, their primary tactic is to get us to believe they are bigger and stronger than we are. What Trolls live under your bridge that keep you from experiencing an extraordinary life?
Good Morning, Welcome to the Forth watch, the part of the day that I claim as my own before the kids are awake and the work day begins. This morning it was a bizarre dream, other mornings it’s the horn of a CSX locomotive passing through a nearby intersection announcing its arrival. My Troll? The sleepless night! But this Troll cannot claim victory, for I have found enjoyment in the battle.
What battle? Consider our hero’s. The Three Billy Goat’s Gruff, found greener pastures, pastures that provide nourishment for the body and soul, but to enjoy the grass and benefit from its nutrients they have to contend with a Troll that wants to eat them. You can’t blame him, Trolls need to eat too.
Unfamiliar with this story? Go ahead, take a moment to refresh your memory. I will be waiting on the other side. Just as all good children’s stories, it begins…Once Upon a Time…
Great! You made it back. Some never do— the internet is like that, always another trail to follow. Back to where we were going…
To summarize, in the fairy tale Three Billy Goats Gruff, the Troll was seen as a challenger to avoid by the youngest, Little Billy Goat Gruff. Instead of engaging in battle with the Troll, sensing he was at a disadvantage, he simply out-smarted him and left that fight for another.
The same can be said of Middle-sized Billy Goat Gruff, knowing that one stronger, more experienced and more powerful would soon follow in his footsteps, he too was quick to allow his elder to fight on his behalf.
Each of the two younger billy goats knew their opponent better than he knew himself, and in so embraced one of Sun Tzu’s cardinal rules of warfare. The Troll did not know himself. He did not see the greed within and believed that his brute strength and booming voice would carry the day against anyone that dared to enter his domain.
The eldest of the three, Biggest Billy Goat Gruff, also knew himself and knew his strengths. He knew the Troll to be a worthy adversary but he also could be defeated, and so he did.
The goats wanted, or one could argue, needed the lush grass on the other side of the bridge in order to thrive, if not to survive. Each of them was willing to take risks and do what they thought was necessary to enjoy the grass. But in the end, only the one was willing to engage in battle. The younger two of the three, was content relying on their wit to avoid battle while the older, and presumably wiser, realized that the Troll embodied a threat to their very existence that needed to be vanquished once and for all.
The premise, my Troll is the sleepless night, is only partially accurate. My real Troll is Parkinson’s, the sleepless night is but his minion. Early almost every morning, the minion and I battle, later the same morning the minion returns to the Troll defeated. When the sun rises, with my victory flag planted for the Troll and his minions see, I shout in a maniacal tone, “See you again tomorrow. I will be ready; enjoy your humble pie!”
If you find yourself in the local diner, don’t be surprised if there is no pie in the dessert case. I saw the Costco truck unloading cartons under the bridge. Judging from the number of Marie Callender’s boxes in his dumpster, Razzleberry must be his favorite.
The moral of the story: Trolls are real and set out to destroy. To prevail you must know yourself. Be confident in your strengths and able to exploit your opponent’s weaknesses. Act decisively. Dispense with them in haste. Be merciless. Be brutal. They stand in your way of what you are meant to be. You have what it takes to be victorious.
Now, go forth and vanquish your Troll!
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You will have to forgive Ivy, she is hiding under the bed. Ever since I downloaded a picture of a Troll for this post, she’s been terrified that there is one living under our stairs. I don’t hold it against her. She’s a Golden Retriever after all, not a pit-bull.
Al Van Dyk and my faithful, but hyper-ventilating sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup.