An Extreme Competition......

Remember this: Read the fine print then if your intuition tells you something stinks...it most likely does.

I was perusing the internet looking for hunting when I fell upon the Extreme Huntress Competition. I knew of this from previous searches but each time I always said no and moved on.

This time I looked a little closer.

In my critique, the first thing I looked at was the mission statement:

“Our goal—create positive role models for woman who want to participate in hunting. With 50% divorce rates and kids becoming invested in sports as (web page typo) a younger and younger age, we feel if mom goes hunting, so will her children. “~Extreme Huntress Competition Website~.

This was a poorly thought out mission statement. It needs an over-haul. There is nothing on promoting conservation, diplomacy, policy-making, individuality, family, or any thing definitive that supports this competition.

I was dumbfound. All of these participants were in the hunting arena already; not new-comers. Big truth here, mom going hunting doesn't guarantee or influence whether your child will be a hunter through and through all their lives. Unless the parent takes away his or her right to decision making, individuality, or the fact they have to agree with everything the parent wants them to do. Momma made me do it. I had no choice. Mom going hunting is not going to stop a son from robbing a store, flipping a new car, or having a shoot out with the police. Ergo again, going hunting with Mom is not going to save Mom the anger when her daughter or son finds a unsuitable mate that drags them away to some place where they forget hunting because bills and babies take over. If Mom or Dad is lucky their ideal dreams of a family will come true but the reality in this life time is, under the weight of the world, families are torn asunder. Family members are scattered to the winds.

Some of these women could be mothers eventually but there are some that have kids already. Quite frankly you can't dictate to a woman how she will raise her offspring. Another thought is how an outside entity takes it upon themselves to try and model adults who already have parents that raised them along time ago.

I then thought as Tina Turner would sing, “What does love have to do with it?” Divorce rates have no influence over becoming a hunter. Divorce might facilitate things but its not the one driving factor in break-ups; infidelity, people evolve with different values or ideas, or it shouldn't have been in the first place. What can push you to hunt is the fact you have no money or food and looking at a starving baby with no governmental or community support. You are a lamb tossed to the wolves. You shoot and eat them or they eat you. You either want to hunt or someone introduces you to it, willingly or not.

Mothers are all different. You can't guarantee a mother will be decent. Some women toss their babies in dumpsters. My old Professor of Bones at the technical college was a substitute teacher for the elementary school. She had a really bad kid then went to see his mother. The house had no electricity, food, roaches, and rats while being unlivable. The child in question was left there to fend for himself while the biological mother went out trying to score drugs and food for herself. She called the Child Welfare Agency who later let her adopt the child and he finished school. This substitute teacher wasn't his biological mother. Yet she took him as her own. There are some men that make better mothers than mothers. Having the title mother doesn't mean a thing if you don't do all the things an ideal mother would do (yet we all having human failings).

After I got through with the mission statement, I wondered what exactly in benefits where these applicants getting. I read the rules and regulations. I was concerned these ladies were being taken advantage of. Vanity will open the door for this mishap.

It seemed the Sponsor was the owner of all data. Reading into this I concurred that these women were really being used by the Sponsors because the Sponsors were getting the free advertising over and over for the competition. I bet that people holding it got a fat paycheck. I also went to each site and saw not one whiff of an announcement or even advertisement for what the Sponsor was offering in the way of prizes. As a Sponsor you should be defining what is to be offered to winners and participants because no one should go home empty handed. I gathered this because if you are promoting women in hunting; make it worth their while and don't waste their time or capitalize on their backs. They are not your personal mules for advertising or money; don't white wash taking advantage of someone because you know women want to be taken seriously.

I skipped down to the Finalists.

I see this: This hunt will be filmed for a series of videos called Extreme Huntress Competition. I wondered how much the company makes for these episodes which would be put up on the internet, world wide and television. I then looked at the Grand Prize which is an original award designed by artist Mark James and the fact they will reign as Extreme Huntress  for a period of a year. Any other prize detail will be at the sole discretion of the Sponsor. I guess after this its all merchandising, modeling, and face time to the masses.

Then I see Finalist Expense: All expenses not specified herein are the sole responsibility of the finalist, including without limitation all transportation to and from departure point for hunt competition and awards dinner, award dinner tickets for guest or spouse, award dinner lodging and meals. Texas hunting license, personal expenses, medical insurance packages, trip insurance, trophy prep, taxidermy, and other miscellaneous costs participant chooses to incur.

I thought if you got that far with things the competition Sponsors should foot the bill. Its their contest they made up while sticking the bill to the participants. I am sure the Sponsor will be making a percentage of all earnings off the winner or any of the other participants if they should choose to use them in upcoming competition advertisements, interviews, etc. Trust me, unless they are not financially savvy, someone is making money somewhere. Otherwise ,why do it?

I read the release which makes it sound like the disbursement of the prize is the participation in hunt/skills competition. I wondered if this meant the participants already received their prize in the form of the hunt/competition? I read that the Finalist prize package had a retail value of no less than $5000 per finalist. So there is 20 semi-finalists. I also think I read it changes depending on what you kill. Prized before you compete?

I then see Hunt Cancellation: The Sponsor is not held liable for fees, costs, financial obligations to finalists or Grand Prize winner.

This particular item made me think these people were not people of honor or their word. Here they are willing to walk off with no responsibility for bringing these participants into a game then when things go belly up; walk off and leave the women holding the empty bag.

Really and truly when you read the Conditions and Participation the women have to agree to such terms just to be able to participate. Its not right. They do all the work, one gets some glory but the Sponsor reaps the benefit and moves on to the next face the following year.

My thoughts on this were grave yet appalled. I can't believe some days the lengths people will go to take advantage of people or use a woman for selfish ends.  There must not be much to hunting with these competitions. How can you take another hunter or huntress and put them in a game, knowing they could get hurt or killed then turn your back on them because of a condition the Sponsor and the competition generated? This is sacrificing someone through their desire to be renown for a title that doesn't have much value after a year except to the person who doesn't need it anyway and on top of that there is someone out in the world that could hunt your pants off but they aren't vain or can be manipulated through vanity. I guess the trophy could be melted down, recast and sold as a kudu statue.

My thoughts were this was a sham and a shame. Of course, I could be completely wrong in this but there was no information to dictate the contrary.

I thought instead of a competition, why not review what these women have done over the course of a year because hunting is a life long thing not just X amount of episodes that are under confined conditions for mass consumption and entertainment. Each one of these women could be doing something different and unique unto itself yet they are being defeathered meticulously. Pushing their essays out is one thing but really getting into the grit of a person is another thing. I could probably go a googling on the internet and find someone who really does have a handle on hunting ethic and ideology to bang out a good essay that makes me look like a saint while my true self is questionable.

Instead of telling you who they are and what they are about it the same old thing you can find on the internet, kinda like a telephone monologue at Pizza Hut. "We have thick crust or thin? Which do you prefer?" They will tell you what it takes to get them chosen to win. People lie on job interviews all the time but when it comes time to do the job; you'll be found out.

In the way of competitions, I wondered where were the scholarships, prizes of merit for a mother that would help make her life easier, what groups would this Extreme Huntress be representing, and how much work would she be asked to do to cover ground, or being reimbursed. You can get more done with more than one woman. Who would she be uplifting? What actually are the platforms she would be working from or on? Why make one woman bear that much weight on top of her daily life and trials when she has sisters all over the world? Why weren't these women taken into consideration?

If anyone were going to sign up for something like this you have to question some things. Is it going  to help women who hunt instead of showcase one person with very little or no outstanding of personal ideals on hunting? If this global or national push for showcasing women in hunting can be expressed to the public to uplift anyone or is it really is nothing more than a beauty contest based upon shallow popularity and a short essay?

 

I do suspect there will probably be some anger to my writing this but I am not bashing the competition but I do think the ladies can be treated a little better and with respect; not a commoditity to give a second or third party publicity.

If you are going to expose the world to female hunters find a better way of doing it. The public at large needs to see the forums, the activity, issues being addressed, and average people doing the work. There are faceless people doing astounding things everyday yet we push one or two people because they won a competition that gave them an accolade. A work of art on your mantle does nothing for conservation or hunting. It gathers dust which causes you more work because you spend time cleaning it instead of doing something more productive.   

I read all twenty of the essays. There were several women who I thought of yet I voted for one. The people who quoted work like a resume didn't appeal to me because they were going solely on accolades and accomplishments not personal beliefs or what drove them forward in hunting. 

She was the one that I read her entire essay. The one little girl that admitted being a hardcore huntress didn't look positive. She has thought about how she wants to represent herself and what she is doing. She's honest and tells you she is financially challenged in a humble way. She put in the effort and was offered jobs based on the work she was already doing. Her wording of the conditions of not being taken seriously, how its not about the money its about the experience and the knowledge of learning something in particular. At her age, she understands its not about fame.

Fame doesn't last but it is what you do with fame in the way of hunting and other people being introduced to the sport. The best thing she did was write about her mentality and how she respected hunting as an act. I still liked Sandra Mas and her ballsy-ness at becoming a hunter in Africa, Helga Wimmer, and Nikita Dalke but my favorite was Beka Garris because she vocalized it better. I don't give my vote lightly.

Overall, I could see where this would spotlight women in hunting but it being the best and most well thought out platform; no. Most likely the person who really deserves it will not get it.

~Courtesy of the AOFH~

Here is the link if you would like to vote and give your thoughts. Nothing like free advertising.

http://www.extremehuntress.com/category/current-huntresses/

Female Hunter; Social Stigma

Remember this: All motives do not end in sex (esp. with un-sexy people) but stupidity runs rampant.

The truck was stopped on the road by the sign-in box at the mouth of the wildlife managed area. I stared down the road at what looked like flooding in two spots; one deeper than the other. The little voice in my head said, “Turn back Lewis and Clarke; turn back.”

I pulled over into the new, rock covered parking area by the sign-in box, got out and walked down the road to the small tea colored stream making its way from one side to the other. River water was everywhere. The first hole didn't look deep but I could tell that second one was a doozie. I later tried the first but backed right up out of there on the second. I wasn't feeling lucky.

I was reading the list of people who were turkey hunting since the first of April. Only two male gobblers where taken over a period of 23 days. The weather has been uncompromising while cold yet today it was extremely hot and humid. As I was perusing this information an SUV came rolling by. It backed up and a younger black man asked me if this was the sign-in station. I told him it was and carried the book over for him to pen their names in. He told me they had been there the year before with no luck. I told him he probably wouldn't have good results because it was so flooded and where he might go to find one. He eyeball rolled me and I could tell he did not believe me. Maybe he thought I was trying to send him on a wild goose chase so I could have all that WMA turkey for myself.

They went into the first hole but backed right back out the second to stop and ask me what they could do. I told them there was another access point but I couldn't guarantee the road would be any better. I gave them directions and off they went. I would later drive down to the other access point and find several crater like holds filled with water and flooding across the area. I doubt they went in.

While at the Sign-in box, I heard the soft sound of what could have been a female turkey. I wondered into the brambles to find the origins of the sound but then realized this pitch-black crow was the culprit. I wasn't sure if the crow was bad news or what. There it was, hanging around, trying to punk me in the swamp. I then left.

I stopped by the grocery store on my way home but met a guy in passing who I was familiar with. I asked him did he go turkey hunting. He told me no, but started to talk about it. He was more of a deer hunter. I asked him did he know where in the WMA people actually hunted. He shrugged no.

A pause in silence while I heard mental crickets because I wasn't sure what to say next. Good fortune for me because this little man pulled up in a kidnapper van and started to talk to the guy. I walked off and went to shopping. Guy was still there with the old dude when I got back. I was about to open my door when he walked to the other side of the truck bed and began talking. He told me of several places where I could find a place not on the WMA that would not be so water logged but on the edge of it. He told me about this man that lived down the street who he proclaimed was a Gobbler Calling King. Of course he did direct me, upon calling this Gobbler Calling King, to excessively compliment him while blowing his head up and giving him the credit for pointing me in the general direction.

I was listening intently when he seemed somewhat nervous. I thought, “Uh oh. Here it comes.”

He then looks me square in the face with nervous hands and said, “The only problem you might have is the fact that you are a single unattached female. If you go with any of the men down here, people will probably say you are having sex with them.” In my mind the snotty voice was thinking, if I set foot on the WMA then I am making out with everyone even the game wardens. Oh happy day! I would be exhausted when I got home.

I told him I already new this to be a true statement. All of the people including relatives  I spoke to were showing me their backs or politely directing me to a dead-end.

My reputation is pretty spotless unless someone were to spread common gossip about me. I can't account for every little comment said or unsaid as to my person. Who does? I don't have time for that. Its emotionally draining and counter-productive to my goals and objectives.

We spoke a little longer but I did get some information from him on the turkey. I excused myself then went home to cook dinner and dial up the Gobbler Calling King. I finally got in touch with him and explained what I was asking for. I also told him what the guy said about people talking and how I wanted to work right past this particular issue. He told me he would have to ask his wife. I said that would be fine. His wife knew me. He will probably come back to say no. They always do.

While on the telephone he did relay to me that he went hunting several times but he wasn't impressed with the low show of turkey. The DNR forecast was listing 'fair'. He thought this was because of predators, people shooting gobblers who were not old enough to even have good spurs, the weather, or some other problem. He did tell me some of the turkey taken were young jakes instead of older birds. We were both in agreement in the past 2 to 3 years the amount of turkey seemed to be slowly dissipating. I felt at times he was discouraging with this information like I should give up but yet he was hunting and it wasn't stopping him. He was going with other people. He complained a lot about younger men shooting underling jakes for the sake of getting a turkey tag filled while not considering emptying out the herd when all that is left is hens with no males to breed with. The two men at the sign-in box had this same attitude through conversation of just getting a turkey regardless of it being too young or gobblers per hens. A lot of people want to get a turkey for turkey sake, a photo, and the experience even if the turkey bird is not mature enough. I have spoken to a lot of people that feel the same way in regards to low turkey numbers and this year if the breeding isn't improving or poults don't survive, next year will be no better. There is always a stand-by answer for this.

All men like to say, “There are turkey everywhere.” This may be true to them in their mind but when you see something dwindling down to nothing and a person who has hunted long before you were born is telling you what you've seen in the past 2 to 3 years is parallel to their observation, then I would think someone needs to rethink their hunting habits or do some research. No wonder turkey season only lasts a month. Most people don't even know turkey here were re-introduced because the population got so low and the DNR does their research through surveys based on hunting participants' observation and honesty to determine what is going on each year due to lack of funds or man power. I guess the turkey biologist has got to be pulling his hair out with tied hands.

After this conversation, I sat on the porch with a long face. Why do people have to think of stupid things and act that way when in reality there is not a lot of people that look that good to want to steal their husband or boyfriend. Men picked their wives and married them; I say suffer thy wife and let me turkey hunt. People's personal suspicions are not my problem. If nameless people have to worry that much maybe divorce is in order.

I then pondered over the questions: Is it more relevant for me to be married to justify hunting? Would this make another married woman or man feel safe if I had a wedding band on my finger?

No. Legal papers and wedding bands do not keep a person from straying. The only thing that would usurp this migration is the person's strong moral compass and the ability to say no because the individual actually loves their significant other. No compromises.

On the other hand after deliberating over crazy mind thought shenanigans; I laughed.

I have solved a problem. Turkey hunting with a single female is the litmus test of whether you are in a bad relationship!! Run, hide your husbands because no sheep is safe tonight. The only beacon of light was the guy was dead honest with me and reaffirmed my suspicions. I wondered how long it would take him before he asked me out? Yes, I chuckle at myself sometimes.

In reflection to this stigma of being a single female who hunts, this impairs your access to opportunity while demeaning the person you really are. The idea of someone making comments in regard to your morals, while constructing some fallacy as to your true reason or nature for going to an area to hunt, is one of the lowest common denominators of humanity I can think of.

There are a lot of under-conditioned men and women in the hunting world. The last time I looked some couldn't even crawl up in a deer stand or the side of a mountain. Thinking bad thoughts of innocent people is wrong. If you have to worry that much over someone else maybe you need cognitive therapy to question all those crazy thought.

Once again in the spirit of informing women not so much in a rant, as to what goes on in the minds of other people, so you'll be aware of things that could impede your hunting; this is one of them. I was planning on going into the WMA later this week whether the people in the community help me or not. I have come thus far without their help and will go on to do whatever it is to reach my goals. Its better to be eaten by hogs otherwise the gossip hounds will drive you into a hole then tear you apart; unfounded rumor by unfounded rumor. Common gossip based in fiction destroys lives and makes the people spreading it appear to be stupid cumquats.

Go do your hunt. If the game warden wants to burn you, it might be better to eat a ticket than be put off because somebody can't control themselves while in the woods with you or their wife doesn't trust their husband.

I will say while everyone was trying to get into the WMA, I drove ten minutes away and found this.  Besides, I did not know I was that much of a temptation.

Click on image to Enlarge.

Written by: W Harley  Bloodworth

~Courtesy of the AOFH~

The Arcane of Angelia:s Alchemy: Rattles in the Rice Paddies.

Remember this: Words live on the wind but there is one that amply describes and will eventually lite upon you; gracing you with its wisdom.

 
I found a special word. The word is arcane which means:
 
1. Hard to fathom; difficult or impossible to understand
2. Mysteriously obscure; requiring secret knowledge to be understood.
 
How this word plays into your interpretation of what I am saying to you remains to be seen. Some things you just can't explain; they just are.


I had traveled down the interstate until I came to an intersection that directed me to take a left off this sloping road at a caution light. I began to drive down the road which was littered sporadically with plantations hidden in the trees. The first one was Greenfield which consisted of two separate areas. The first was gated with threatening signs of how they would prosecute you if you were to trespass. I saw a guillotine sitting on a wooden structure with a hooded ax man somewhere on the property out of eyesight. The structures on the other side of the locked and chained wrought iron gates were cinder block houses painted white with black shutters.

The next one would be Black Bank which I just stopped and pulled up at the gate. I had the strange feeling that I was somewhere I had been before but there was this aura of being in love as I sat there at the gate. I could see a vehicle driving around in there because it was a pine plantation. The overwhelming sense of being loved which is fairly odd to me as I was just randomly driving around that day looking at different places but thought it was the sunshine. I shook it off and headed on down the road which became a straight shot of nothing but forest on both sides of the road for miles and miles. I finally came to the sign that directed me to turn right off the highway down this dirt road. I decided to get out of the truck and take a picture of this open place with some pine trees and straw grass. I walked up onto the bank then realized I had stumbled upon a game trail where the animals wore the grass down from walking it so much. I walked back to the truck to drive down the lane where I came out to Samworth Wildlife Management area. There were these two circular structures at the opening to the driveway leading to the house. I thought about circles or even cycles. People refer to the drama of life as a circle that goes on and on but circles are endless or infinite. Life is not infinity but a transition into death where what is left of the physical state is recycled back to feed other things.


People often used circles as a physical representation of arguing the natural and the supernatural in terms of God and the Universe. How can the two coexist? The line is the permeable membrane between the two where they mutually share information. It’s not black and white;  it’s all shades of grey. I drove down the lane and as always it had the ambiance of hundred year old oak trees with a plantation feel. Along the way were fields sectioned off planted with un-harvested corn for dove hunters to enjoy if they didn’t have a place of their own. Each plot had an electrical fence around it I presumed to keep the deer out or maybe even the hogs. If you did not know any better driving up you would not realize that you were on a marsh instead of an inland plantation farm. I drove to the back which was littered with DNR trucks because it was a DNR station. I parked over near the neatly kept boat landing. I got out walking around and taking pictures. This was a good place to hunt ducks. I heard a boat coming up the small waterway. I walked over to the boat house where one of the game wardens was pulling up to park his boat. He got out and started to tie things up when I asked him did he care if I took pictures. He told me yes then started to pull out his camera from a bag to show me the photos he had taken. He then directs me to this barge where I can take some good pictures and give me tips on where to go for the best view. He was exceptionally nice. I thanked him for his time and walked off to the barge which was not far away. It was yellow and rusty.

I walked up on the barge and took some pictures. I jumped off then strolled over to this small pond where a tree swing was dangling. It looked like it was waiting for someone to come enjoy it. I snapped off a couple of pictures of the house which was locked. I made my way back to the boat landing where I had parked my truck. I then decided to go down the nature trail. It led along the bank of the marsh. I followed it when I heard some other people loading a boat into the water. I eventually emerged from this woody area into an open marsh area. There was a raised road covered with dried brown grass that lead in snake like patterns out into some unknown destination. I could imagine that I was walking down this lane and out in the marsh from overhead were a lot of alligators all pointing their mouths at me while they watched me from the grass. I could hear unseen things moving in the beige and cream colored sweet grass.

On my left I could see where there was a lot of something that had wallowed in it until it was laid over like a bed. There was lot of scat everywhere. That side was deep so if something was going to come up at me from that side I would know it. The other side closer to the water was not that way. It wasn’t like a canal ditch. It was more even. I walked up on a hog that was resting in the muck and mire but really didn’t want to be chased because there was nowhere to go. The hog let me know with a bark that he was there so I just strolled on past.

The thought of being chased by a hog then run into the mouth of an alligator was not appealing besides I had no gun but probably should have at least brought a loaded shotgun. How I would explain that to the game warden as a fact of not actually hunting but as protection from wild beast would probably get me a couple of chuckles with a nice ticket accompanied with a fine.

There were a lot of red headed woodpecker drilling holes on twig-like trees. I saw a red bellied moccasin fall from a shrub into the water with a plop. I was on this endless path going nowhere to a place I couldn’t see and the mysterious was all around me. I began to doubt myself, the time, how long it would take me to get back and what if something happened to me out there because the only one that knew I was about was the game warden.

When you go on a journey always tell someone where you are going because no one will know if you are in trouble. I took into consideration that I was literally wondering around this place with no particular direction as that is what my life has turned into. I wonder around worse than a gypsy. I did have intended goals but they got lost along the way or weren’t what I had envisioned them to be compared to my mind or in real life. People were not what I thought they would be. Everything always falls short of what you expect and the unexpected turns out to be more glorious than what you imagined.


I was walking along when I felt like my eyes had changed because I could feel it. I slowed down then closed my eyes to walk along blind. I was aware of myself. I was aware of keeping to the path without straying because I couldn’t see but then I started to listen and sense the things outside of me. I began to hear the wind blowing through the marsh grass. The grass started to sound like a bunch of rattles being shaken at once but different times. It had a certain sequence to it that I heard a song in the sound. I started to hum the sound but it had no words.


I then pondered how rattles were used in ceremonies. I am a homeless person that finds shelter in the wild where there is no man-made structures.


Rattles are used to keep rhythm accompanied by music like sound that resonates to the soul of a person. It can incite in a person the trance of a spiritual experience. Rattles represent independence. Rattles are made of containers such as gourds, turtle shells, or anything you can enclose. The container is usually decorated with feathers and represents the animal or plant kingdom. Inside of the rattle you can put beans, rocks, or anything hard that will strike against the inside of the container. The rattle could have a handle or not.
 
As I walked along listening to the wind blow in the marsh grass I felt like the spiritual energy locked in me was unblock and the trance-like state I was in as I walked along was used to help my body respond to the healing I was searching for. Rattles have been known to break up stagnant energy. People can get stagnant in their lives due to stressors and pressure. Rattles help you focus and open your mind to a different emotional state. 


I was looking for a refocusing on my life.


I considered how much time I had walked the path but didn’t want the sun to beat me down. I still had one more place to go. I decided to turn around. I walked back to the end of the grass marsh road. I took a right which lead me into yet another strange looking place where cypress knees were jutting out in a muddy area. I noticed the hogs had been down by the edge of the muddy places rooting up a storm. I walked back up the hill past this small pond up into these camellia trees. The flowers on the trees were white and another was pink but the flowers were not so hardy. I saw this one huge white flower and pulled it off. It wasn’t diseased but felt cool and soft to the touch. White represented purity. I thought about sticking it in my hair but didn’t want to lose it. I usually do this with the random feather I find. When I use to work I would put pencils in my hair. It seems to be the ideal place to stab things.


Camellias are called the ‘empress of the winter’. They are known for being tokens of devotion. The petals reflect the spirit of a lady, and the holder of the petals represents the man entrusted by the lady as her protector. It’s the everlasting bond between lovers.

I could see just beyond them a large open area that was littered with ancient oaks. I wanted to get to the other side so I crawled through the bushes. I could hear a vehicle but didn’t know if I was trespassing on private property because there were no signs stating I was. Not that it mattered. I have the ability to act and look like a dumb lost female in need of rescuing; add my charm and I’m pretty deadly. Let’s call it survival ability.


I walked out into the open space and just wanted to run straight down it but didn’t. Just because you get a compulsion doesn’t mean you should do it. It was a big open well-manicured space. It kind of reminded me of that opening scene on Little House on the Prairie where Laura Ingles is spinning around in the meadow full of white flowers. Happiness at the most mundane thing and I didn’t own it. I basked in the beauty of turning a corner to find something even more spectacular.


So far I had traveled through three landscapes on that property. The first was a homestead where people use to dwell, a path that lead to open marsh area, and a previous homestead area where the only thing left was the land but no house. I walked back toward the pond then took a right onto another path that was labeled the Nature Trail. I followed it down into a sloping area but in this section the wooded area was humid and everything reeked of decay and composition. The trees lying all over the place with limited light and leaves everywhere made me think of the twilight of human life when old age followed by death occur. I really wasn’t thrilled about being down in that but as I walked along the path I realized I was paying less attention to my surroundings or even the trial itself.

I began to think how life was that way. You’re so preoccupied with your internal concerns that you forget the external. As I was mulling this over I then realized I was unconsciously keeping up with my footfall on the trail. I thought that is how people end up getting hurt. Being distracted by things that don’t matter or not letting things go. It’s also occurred to me how you can walk through life and not even notice what is going on around you until something jogs you out of your mental reverie. That mental reverie is living in the past or the future not the present.


I felt the creature’s presence before I actually saw it. I was two steps away from stepping right on this pit viper that blended with the leaves along the path. It was a rattlesnake. It never shook its tail. I moved back up on a hill thinking ‘Holy Shit’. I am not afraid of snakes but I wasn’t expecting the snake under the leaves. I didn’t even have my snake boots. I decided whether I wanted to try moving the snake or going another direction. Not wanting confrontation when I don’t have to I decided to turn around, cross the wooden bridge and cut through the woods on this path to a dove field. I started to laugh at myself because I had a sense of repulsion walking down into the mess when I should have just went with my intuition but the great unknown threw a pit viper down in my path to warn me away from going in further or deeper into the unknown of it. Even though it was a pit viper I didn’t look at it in a negative way. It was just there minding its business looking for food. I then thought how this was important to the scheme of things. I considered snakes.

Snakes are representative of patience, medicine, healing, transformation, and sexual passion (you could say the same thing for an apple but that might be sin. You couls say a snake is an instigator of sin?)

Down in the South it is an emblem for a tribe of indigenous people.


Keeping it positive; there is no devil worshiping going on here.

This snake was teaching me to hold my ground (it wasn’t moving), threaten/warn, then if the imposer keeps up with agitation then strike.


The rattlesnake has also been representative of the ancient grandfather with the ability to give fair wind or cause a storm. The Mayans believed the snake to represent rebirth.

It can also represent petty vengefulness usually in the form of unannounced and deadly strikes. This would be the more negative side. I would assume this is on the part of other people.....but I am human therefore can foul up too.


There is the infusion of poison to harm or kill but there is the upside of medicine. The poison or medicine could expand the consciousness through divine intoxication which was connected to the afterlife and immortality. It just depends on how one would use the snake in their spiritual journey. Everything is good and evil in equal parts. Medicinal wise you could look at the Aesculpian staff. Medicine and healing has always been a part of my life even though I turned my back on it because I felt rejected because no matter what I did it never seemed to work out otherwise for saving a ton of life, both animal and human. It was painful for me to do that but I did it anyway.


I then thought of the snake laying there in the forest. It is a natural guardian of treasures or sacred sites which cannot be easily moved out of harm’s way. I feel like I am guarding something or someone but stay in harm’s way. How I will ever be in a safe place is unknown to me. I also thought of the ancient oaks. I have read that snakes are around the tree of life that is situated in a divine garden. In the Old Testament the tree of knowledge of good and evil is situated in the Garden of Eden together with the tree of life and the serpent. The Tree of Life was represented by a wooden staff.

After walking down the side of this field without the worry of stepping into trouble I walked across the grass into this patch of clover. I found the largest clover I have ever seen. This being a sign of good fortune I plucked it from the ground to put with my white camellia I had pulled off the tree in the woods.


I had been going in circles and cycles but was never really lost. I got back to my truck, climbed in to head to my next destination.
 
Written by: Angelia Y Larrimore
 
~Courtesy of the AOFH~

The Labrinth of the Sacred

Remember this: What I write now is my perspective on this at the moment. My ideals on differing situations, pondering or conclusions are not set in stone but change given the circumstance. What may be true here could be completely different elsewhere depending on perspective, frame of mind, input, and what I exchange but is left as ‘open-ended’. It’s not meant to brain wash you but give you something to think about and help you. Just think ‘messages’.

 
I was the chauffeur for my mother Wednesday. She had an appointment at a specialist in North Charleston. I told her that if I were to drive her I wanted to make a side trip to this place called Mepkin Abbey. It’s a sect of Trappist monks living in Monck’s Corner. Due to my pass history of working for a resort hotel I usually take care to plan even a road trip well. I want to enjoy myself but not be rushed. I also thought my mother could do with getting out somewhere that wasn’t stressful and enjoy a walk. That was my stab at being daughterly. I try the same thing with my dad but it always turns into an epic fail. The Abbey was only twenty minutes from the doctor’s office although it was really off the beaten path down this long country highway. She agreed with it but she is not one to want to do anything adventurous unless it is with other people. Not me. I do not have a viable relationship with her regardless of all the things I have done to help her. It has always been that way. I figured the time and left where we would have two hours to gawk or get lost driving then be found again.
On the way up to the Abbey I was driving along listening to the radio and thinking about landscapes. It’s odd how you can be listening to music and it mirrors your train of thought. I had been on this discovery mission about sacredness, life, and what the universe is trying to tell me. I was listening to Stairway to Heaven and Dust in the Wind. Then Hotel California came on the radio twice. I had to think of what the songs were about and if there was some way that I could weave them into Angelia’s Cosmology as it pertained to my personal universe. I was pretty calm because my mother had put the seat back to fall asleep. Dust in the Wind was about the circle of life. Stairway to Heaven was about greed on society. Hotel California is about hedonism, self-destruction, and greed.
I pondered how greed, self-destruction and hedonism (which is pleasure being the only intrinsically good) had affected my life thus far. I do not consider myself a greedy person unless chocolate is handy. I have had lots of money and very little money while learning to live on air; feast or famine. I have been abandoned by several people for material things. After a while that messes with your self-esteem because a kitchen knife has more value than you do and they sale them all the time at Wal-Mart. It’s worse when it comes from people that you think should value you but don’t. It would seem that it is other peoples’ greed for money, land, and any possession they can steal, hoard, or plot to gain. It’s a sad note to report that when the choice is between a speck of dirt and your own flesh and blood; the speck of dirt wins because it’s more important. It’s so important that the land monger would pull a Moses and walk their child up to the rock on the mountain and sacrifice them under the knife so they can retain it all for the greater good. That would sound like madness but there are people that live by those beliefs. When you have parents that consider the existence of their children as ‘options’ or ‘other options’ you really have to wonder exactly how secure are you in this life? How can you form any close bond with a human being that is not blood if your very blood relatives see you as expendable? You then start grading your own value because everything has strings attached. There is no unconditional love. Everything comes with legal fine print (or a price tag to which some sale their souls) that will burn you in the next couple of lives.
I pondered self-destruction. I am probably guilty of this because I feel some days like I did a great wrong in life. Surely all the muck you get comes from deserving it but that is not always the case. A lot of people don’t deserve it for good or bad but who is the judge and jury on that one? One to which I can’t remember and feel like I do not deserve certain things so it’s like rotating self-punishment for failures. In my family you only present the emotion that makes others feel good. Any emotion contrary to that is to be suppressed, internalized until it becomes much like a poison or a cancer. You either have to vomit it out, cut it out, or die from it. If you die you will be completely eradicated from the family memory. . I have found myself at times tearing things that I build down because I am frustrated with how things are going and decide to start over rather than pick a spot and work from there. Salvaging workable information is probably better than pouring gas on the pile and striking a match to watch it burn.
I passed through Andrews which was a sleepy little town with one red light and a very pastel green church on the corner of the center of town. I was driving down this corridor of green pine trees towards Charleston where a couple of the towns were really not very scenic. I got closer to one of the parts of Francis Marion Forest which cut through a town called Macedonia. I saw a sign that said Macedonia Home of the Foxes. I laughed to myself because as the fox is a shape-shifter showed up on the sign. I assumed I was on the right path and train of thought. I finally got on the road to the abbey. It was about a fifteen minute drive which will end you at the gates leading up a long gravel drive lined with oak trees probably from early man. Old oak trees do lend a certain amount of creepiness or loneliness to a landscape but they are still beautiful. I got out and took a couple of photos where a sign with a monk on it pointed to the reception area. I drove up the drive and parked in the visitor center/store parking lot. We went inside to look around. There was all manner of religious paraphernalia with ceramic pots, soaps, and cooking spices. The abbey is self-sufficient by selling artisan products. The back part of the store which leads to the church was closed. After buying some soap my mother was sitting on a bench. She kept making comments about leaving. I wondered at this. I informed her that we were two hours early but not to worry. We got in the SUV. I decided to drive down this white sandy lane at the angry insistence of my mother that I was doing wrong, going to get caught, and should be ashamed of myself. She told me I was not supposed to go back there because it was off limits. I gave her the crazy eye then drove right back there. This little road leads to the garden section of the property. I went all the way to the back. The garden had a few religious sculptures but not a lot. It was also only landscaped with evergreens or medium sized trees and shrubs. I came to a stop and got out. I started walking around taking pictures when I looked back at the vehicle to see my mother sitting there. I walked back and asked her didn’t she want to get out the SUV and walk around. She bluntly told me no. She then saw a couple sitting on a bench and declared there was people back there like we were intruding on them or they were the abbey police. I told her it was a place to walk around. She still refused so I left her in the SUV. I was well beyond having my feelings hurt by anything she does other than trying to actively get me killed because it ‘amuses her’. I walked down to the water’s edge. The back of the garden is located on Lake Moultrie. Lake Moultrie is also connected to Santee so there are plenty of fish and alligators along with waterfowl. It was a really beautiful day. I figured I would take my time so I spent an hour meandering down by the lake. I did walk by this one reservoir pond that had a sign warning about the alligators. I could hear in the trees something moving around. It got me to thinking of things that are unseen but there. An elderly man came up to sit on a bench. He pulled out a book and began to read. The couple disappeared over the hill. As I walked along I began to think of paths. This place had a lot of paths. Some paths lead upward along a non-linear walkway. Other paths lead upstairs to another ‘floor’ even though they might only be just a set of stone steps that seemed to be there more for looks rather than leading to anywhere important.
At one point I was annoyed with my mother because I had tried to do her a nice turn to only be snubbed. She didn’t want to spend time with me or walk around. I realized that here was a beautiful sacred place where one could enjoy the day, spend time working out issues or aligning one’s self for the better, and getting something from a minuscule moment. I then realized I was just a tool to drive her to a doctor’s office. She had absolutely no interest in me or the place. I had to accept that. It was like rejection. I felt rejection. This might fall under the category of questions people ask when they say, “Why doesn’t that person want to be with me?” You don’t get an answer. Even though it bothered me I didn’t dwell on it because it would only put me in a foul mood. I finished up and walked back to the SUV. She was sitting there. I got in and she was pushing for us to leave. I turned around to head out then just to be funny I asked her, “Are you afraid to get out on consecrated ground because you have Satan in you?” She gave me an angry look. She said, “I walked on the ground when I got out at the store.” I eye balled her seriously, “Open the door, remove that croc on your foot and touch it with a bare toe. Or are you afraid you’ll burst into flames?” She huffed at me like a bantam chicken. I laughed and said seriously, “Satan.” My mother then goes on this twenty minute verbal tirade on how I was trying to convert her to religion when she didn’t want any, didn’t believe in God, and that she had joined the Church of Lord Calvert at work. I shook my head. Before we had left the house I told her that getting out of the house would do her some good. She needed to be doing something to preoccupy her mind off of revenge or vengeful thoughts and acts.
We stopped in to get a bite then went to the appointment which she inadvertently made me miss the exit by declaring that we weren’t supposed to be going to Savannah. I told her I was but missed it in the argument. I then circled like a buzzard until I got back on the right road. We stayed at the doctor’s office for a while, she got seen, and we left to get her home because she had to work. On the way home out of the blue she tells me that she doesn’t want me driving her to the next appointment. I didn’t say a word. I guess she really thought I was trying to pull an intervention and convert her to a higher power. I think she needs something .What? I don’t know but something.
I was just glad to be home.
I remember picking up a pamphlet in the abbey store that explained the place. There was one part in it that I thought was worth note. It mentioned a labyrinth. A labyrinth is a path that is one way. It leads in to a place and that same path leads you right back out. Just to be clear a maze has alternating paths with decisions that can lead you to multiple places depending on which one you choose. The outcome will be more randomized.
I googled the cultural meanings of labyrinths to find it could be a clear definable path to go with one entrance, a form of pilgrimage, to contain benevolent spirits, or to morph into a contemplative state by distraction. I did think of how a labyrinth reminded me of a medicine wheel that one sees outside. It too has an entry way that leads into the sacred area where you can ‘get right with the sacred’.
This concept of a labyrinth also reminded me of a story my philosophy teacher once told his class about his spiritual beliefs. It would seem that Professor Blackwell was a pastor that worked in the military. He had gone to seminary which was the cause of questioning his beliefs. He finished there but then fell into this atheist funk years later. He said he was dead against it but after examining all the major religions he wasn’t satisfied that any of them were the one true religion. He then found himself right back at the beginning where he started from with his religious beliefs.
When you are at a starting point to any endeavor you would probably be more inclined to believe you are following a maze but if you find yourself back where you started then you were in a labyrinth. You were never lost to start with it just seemed that way because all you had to do was back track to find your way out. If you feel you are lost then stop where you are. Assess your situation, find your bearings and listen to your intuition. You can guide yourself if you believe enough in yourself to find it in you to be the person you are and not the one the world is trying to traumatize into a mold that wasn’t you to start with. You can also try to warp yourself in a feeble attempt at becoming a desired component for other people’s consumption. That will only lead to your unhappiness because it is not you then again maybe it is you and you’re just finding your way. The interpretation is left up to you. If it makes you feel happy then you’re on your way. Then again sometimes you have to hit rock bottom be completely miserable before things can change for the better. If it does not then find your way back out onto another path that is the right one for you.

Written by: W Harley Bloodworth

~Courtesy of the AOFH~

The Bushy Red Tail



Remember this: Animals are spirits that bring messages to those attune to hearing it. If man has gone deaf to the language of animals then he holds a knife to his own throat.

 
The day before yesterday I told my son that I wouldn't be going anywhere the next day except my bed. I felt sickly. Of course when you travel on the vision's path it does make one mostly sick because you're not eating, drinking very little and trying to pay attention. You can literally get sick from walking the path in earnest. For some reason yesterday morning without even putting much thought in to it like I had already planned to go somewhere I got dressed after he left for school. I was only two minutes from the house when I was thinking, "What am I doing? I wanted to stay home.” No such thing….
 
I then saw something out of my peripheral vision by this stand of grey leafless trees near some straw grass in a cow field. There sitting on its hump was a red fox scratching its head. I passed it thinking what the bloody hell! I backed up sure that it was going to bolt and run but it was waiting for me. I didn't back up all the way but then I guess the fox realized someone saw it and it walked slowly in the trees but still did not run away. I took some photos (because no one would believe me) of it but most of them were blurry. I was surprised I got the two good photos I did. I then knew that I was supposed to go somewhere that day. I thought about it all along the trip as I chose this one straight road that lead to Charleston, SC. I would drive that road and stop along the way at different places and see what it tells me. I figure on writing about each place so it’s not a long writing/reading all at once. I decided to do that today because I have to go back to Charleston, SC with my mother.
 
As I consider myself on some path I saw many things and interpreting them will be a great joy to me and insight for you. Most people are vessels they just don't know it. I hope someone gets something out of it to.
 

I did look up some information on the mysticism of the Red Fox. I will say as you can compare right now my life is one where I am stuck between to people that can't get along but can't live without the other in some strange way. As the fox I have to avoid fights, controversy, and getting my tail shot off so to speak. I wondered why I had to start in the winter and I think I know but it’s going to be very uncanny explaining the way I perceive these things. As I have said before. Messages are all around. My first name means Messenger of God. My middle name means the Archer. My Last name....maker of bits or horse equipment but I am not sure. So here it is:
 
The fox is the cunning and stealthy messenger of the gods and the magical guide to the world between time and space often shape shifting on the journey, (sometimes into human form). The fox lives in the "In-between Time" on the edge of dusk and dawn and can guide the way into the Spiritual Realm. There are many species of fox, but they all share the cleverness and cunning from which comes the expression, "sly as a fox." For the fox learning to be invisible is an important skill in life. The fox shows how to develop the arts of camouflage, invisibility, and shape shifting. The fox teaches how to be unpredictable by mastering the ability of blending unseen into the surroundings. A creature of the night it is imbued with supernatural powers and is a totem of healing of body, mind and spirit. A basic lesson fox offers is to stay clear of complications, rather than getting involved in controversies, step back and observe differences from a distance. It is likely you do not need to take sides. The fox takes a neutral stand when he is not being threatened. The fox runs from trouble, preferring not to get in the mix of conflicts. The Red Fox: Associated with the female in folktales and legends. Sexual energy and the freeing of the creative force. For a woman it is a sign to bring home and children back into focus. A winter spirit.
 
~Courtesy of the AOFH~