Additional thought, unrelated to the blog: If you are looking at it through the eyes of a soul starved for attention. Then even something meant as insult could be viewed as being pure love.
Benchmark: How desperate are we? How desperate do we feel?
"There is a principle which is a bar against all information, which is proof against all arguments and which cannot fail to keep a man in everlasting ignorance "that principle is contempt prior to investigation." Herbert Spencer (Big Book, Page 184)
I took someone up on that offer once. I had said that I didn't bird hunt, even though I am a pretty good shot. The question was asked by a male counterpart, Well, have you ever hunted? (Smart-ass) I said, NO, I don't like killing things.
Well, if you've never bird hunt and killed a dove or a quail, then no one's gonna listen to your opinion 'round here.
Oh, You are SO ON!
Well, it turned out that even though I was a damned good shot, I wasn't perfect. I wounded a bird. But that's not the worst of it. It had been flying with a mate. You know, one of those other birds that agree to stay together until death do they part? Yeah, it circled around and sat in a nearby tree and watched it's MATE flounder around on the ground. I was horrified! Devastated!
I knew exactly what was happening. The mate had flown back to check on the other one. I began to bellow as though the gates of Houndsville had been furled open.
I had a couple of those male counterparts at the other end of the field that we were hunting in and they heard what they thought was a cow in distress. They began to follow the sound and found me bent over with my hand over my mouth. One of them asked, are you alright? And this is where I began to blubber with mishmash unintelligable words, " I . . . shot, . . . he's there . . . I killed maaaaaate . . ."
One of these counterparts stepped to my side and put his arm around me saying, "Ah, honey, don't get all choked up. Sure they mate for life, but give him about 15 minutes and he'll be down at the nearest phone line, picking up chicks. He'll look at her and say, "Hey, Toots! How about a drink over at the stock pond?"
So, regardless of the horror that followed shortly after that; THE BEHEADING! I did begin to see exactly why I didn't like to bird hunt, and the boys? Well, let's just say they never said another word to me about hunting with them. However, I would overhear them occassionally telling other hunters along the way about the incident that I guess changed both of our lives.
I accept the opportunity to pursue open dialogue along these lines anytime. Lessons learned in life.
Deborah Leeson, 2005