The Arcane Creatura

Remember this: Progeny is the hopeful path to a better world when taught right. Choose or offer the path wisely.

Have you ever asked yourself, Where did my childhood go? How many positive memories do you have of life before taxes? Do you see a difference in the lives of children now and before you realized it is time to sign up for AARP?

Do you look at your child and wonder if the little person will grow up to be a functioning adult? Did the little human being learn at record pace to keep up with the growing trend of survival and accomplishments? Do you guide your child along, teaching the child about the natural world? As a parent, do you teach your progeny how to co-exist in the world with other things, while being a steward of nature?

To the best of your knowledge, have you taught your progeny to be a human being first?

Good Questions.

Life seems to be one big pressure exerted on you, in succession, once you enter pre-school. Next is the ever growing shadow called adolescence. While the student is in school close to eight hours of the day, as a student, their life is dictated by school government. Some children leave at the ring of the bell to fall into a strange pit of depression, isolation, and resentment.

I read an article entitled, "How To Raise A Wild Child", by T. Edward Nickens, With Phil Bourjaily, Kirk Deeter, Dave Hurteau, and Keith McCafferty in the June 2015 edition of Field & Stream. Throws shade...

Yes, I drive thirty miles, out of my way, to read copies at a local library. I am sitting with 13 issues as I write, on this desk. 

I am not bashing the authors choice of tact in writing such an article. I enjoy most of what Field & Stream writes. I thought it was a good article in terms of learning technical skill of each class of job, as it functions in the outdoor world. 

I felt the article lacked propagating the outdoor person’s mentality on the individual level when it was applied to experiences.

What goes on inside a person when they are learning the outdoors? There are lots of articles by adults. We should have some by children or some videos. That would be nice.I would do it but no one likes me for the things I say. Ole well.....can't make everyone happy. 

You can explain to a person how they should be. This never works because of free-will in the mind and the kind of person they are deep down inside. Some people are golden eggs and some people are rotten, if not given the chance to redeem themselves.

There should always be hope. One must realize this written passage can go for anyone, not just a person centered in or around the outdoors. It is for all.

This fundamental make-up is self-generated through experiences and consequences, internally in the self or externally in others. It is important to how a human proceeds in life. The importance of how the human will treat the self and others in regards to stewardship to the Earth and its inhabitants. It is the spark that shapes your world-view on a philosophy one builds over a life-time.

The well-groomed photographed images appeared to suggest a stereotype the parents could choose from to use as a template to morph their child into some ideal. These children wore brand new designer type clothes with efficient technology in hand to do the job. There are probably parents out there that gauge their children and slowly push them into the slot they think best fits them. You will also find this in schools where students are given aptitude tests to determine if that student needs to become a mechanic, secretary, scientist, or doctor. You cannot be everything. You can try. You have to decide on one something at a time.

Field & Stream writers cover the basic personalities: Hunter, Angler, Woodsman, and Naturalist. Deep in the writing, it is suggested to buy, buy, and buy. You have got to love sublime marketing.

The children on pages 58 and 59 are better representations of what children look like when hunting and fishing. It still sniffs of adulthood. Of course, children are now placed on the fast tract of adulthood to compete. Gone are the lazy days of play from the 70s and 80s. 

Children have to learn to code, work complicated technology, and categorize other people. All the while categorized on a personal level themselves.  Children learn to be divided in subsequent groups as hunters, anti-hunters, liberals, conservative, whites, blacks, indigenous, felons, beauty queens, and so on. After this division plagues them, there are the fights over whom they should hate and distrust. On and on it goes. 

That is one of our shames, if you want to do some shaming; what we do to each other and innocent kids. Social media at its worst is the epitome of adults being poor role models for the little eyes that watch them.

People guide their children into the negative snarls of what it is to be human. For what purpose? To protect them? It really is harming children and the greater good of the Earth.

Going back to the photo of children in the article by Field & Stream. Where are those dirty faces with smiles? 

I remember the only photo my parents ever took of me. I went fishing with my family in this trio of ponds stocked by the neighbor. I was playing in the water with my pole bored, zipping it back and forth. A trout hit my line. It pulled me head first into the pond. My father caught me just as I was about to hit the water’s edge. It was hilarious. My mother caught a bass. I found that picture and laughed. I can still remember the moment.

Why am I so amiss about this article?
  

There is another child Field & Stream neglected to write about or suggest. This is because the trend in some hunting magazines is to promote family and family values as whole units with parents and children with somewhat functional lives.

I struggled with a word to call this child. Why should I try to label such a thing? The Latin phrase Arcane Creatura appeared.

I can only describe the Arcane Creatura. This can be a lonely child, feral yet socialized but isolated from the interactions of human life, with a limited ability to form bonds with others. The Creatura looks and acts normal to some degree. When cast to its own designs will move back into the wild places where it finds comfort. It will have a strong Animus. There will probably be a limited bond with the biological parents. The Arcane Creatura will be left alone to learn about the Natural World, with little supervision. The inner child will be fragile, strong, willful, destructive, and nurturing through each event the Arcane Creatura experiences. The Arcane Creatura will grow into a functioning adult. The mind will stray to the wilderness and the things in it.

Few people ever get close enough to the Arcane Creatura, and know it well.

You will see children such as this. They will be labeled as troubled, with no known psychological problem when tested. You’ll know by the way people say, “That one is off a little bit.” They will learn from every animal in the woods, the trees will whisper their medicines, water will sing its charms, and the Arcane Creatura will listen. It will roll in dirt, climb trees, and roast crayfish over a fire. Mischief will grow ripe within the Arcane Creatura's heart for that is where it finds mirth.

The Arcane Creatura lacks understanding from those quick to categorize. These same people will try to slot the Animus, of such a being, in a way to explain it away for the sake of their comfort. 

There will be a limited need of new technology, clean clothes, or glaring eyes when the Arcane Creatura does not conform. Socially upright people might consider the Arcane Creatura slightly mad.

The Arcane Creatura has a certain element of mystery, even when in the presence of another person. It will play, laugh, run away, come back, and observe you as exotic. You are considered the different one; the one like all the rest. It will laugh at and with you in good humor. It will have hidden depths most will never know. 

The first place you will see the truth of what it is lays in the eyes. 

If you ever meet the Arcane Creatura it will ask, “Did you forget who you are?”

Written by: Angelia Y Larrimore

Bunk Bed Buddies: The Walking Dead



Remember this: Sex is not the center of the Universe.

Last night I was watching The Walking Dead’s episode, “Consumed”. I also watched the Talking Dead with Chris Hardwick.

The content on both shows was interesting and thoughtful.

I was impressed by the input of Yvette Nicole Brown. She is the kind of person you can have deep intellectual conversations with because she pays attention. Life is magic when you have a listener.

I have thoughtful perspectives on this and wanted to share for whoever watches the show. I wondered if anyone shared this particular thought.

If I were the character what would I be thinking, feeling, or remembering from history I didn’t know. I was an archeologist digging into the minds of strangers based on my experiences; making up my own tales.

The online fodder revolves around Daryl being gay or hooking up with Beth or Carol, or both. I don’t particular subscribe to this potential storyline. That is the writer’s path. I do find it fascinating the way in which the writers handled this episode.

When Carol and Daryl are on the bunk bed talking, I did not get the feel of any kind of sexual chemistry. Likewise, I don’t see this with Beth either. I was reading the content writ in online conversations and between Hardwick and his panel. The posture by Daryl is of an overly protective brother.

Fathers and brothers can surrogate for the female in a non-sexual way until the female finds a mate. This is why it is important for the male role not be a violent one. This helps the female determine if the potential mate is an asshole-to-be-avoided. She will compare non-relative men to this example. If it is a poor example, God help you man that you overcome her problems if you so desire to pursue a woman that you feel is worth it.

I wondered. Why it is so important for people to see something that is not necessarily there? The viewer wants the idea to be true because it is lacking in their life or they just want to see it to fulfill some fantasy. You must always ask in the back of your mind, is it true or distorted. Is the viewer happy to see traumatized people have a happy moment; a moment in a sea of dead zombie shells. This scenario only complicates the storyline and suffering of the characters. This is great material for the writer. At the basis of this show is literature, which the visual is built upon.

What I saw on the bunk bed was a platonic surrogacy. The universe is always delivering unto its life forces things they need to get them over the hump, if recognized.

In the Walking Dead Cosmos, surrogate benefactors nurture and move the characters on. The reality they knew before is now replaced by a bastardized version of what life is at present. No one is safe. 

Carol, a domestic abuse survivor, probably has thoughts on life being more secure before the zombie apocalypse. Even if it is with an abuser. 

Was it better to be a relationship victim where escape to a normal life was possible? Or is it worse to be stuck in a hell of zombies and good people turning into less-than-human killers? Or is that humanity at its basis form? Those good people you otherwise wouldn’t kill but now have to.

I could say animals but that’s derogatory because humans are animals. There was reference to Rick’s group now being animals. Why treat humans above reproach when humans are not?

This is how I saw Daryl. Daryl at that moment was the surrogate man Carol probably wanted or needed before the apocalypse; the man that would take care of distasteful things in times of emotional and physical lows without the abuse. He’s the guy you will sleep with but not love, have him fix your car but give no thanks as you ride off into the sunset with someone else, and call to whine about your problems while treating him like an emotional dumping ground. The silver lining in the surrogate’s cosmos is he may be used temporarily, but such good karma he has built could be repaid with some gift from the universe; thus rectifying karmic debt. We all want a person or group to alleviate the begrudged burdens that are forced upon us.

When Daryl tells Carol she doesn’t have to act or make a decision in the building with the child and adult zombie, Daryl realizes Carol’s affliction. At times we don’t want to admit our problems when the closest to us see them clearly. The only way the afflicted can come to terms and acknowledge these problems is self-realization. Being told you have a problem tends to flare up the denial in the person it is issued to.

Up to this point, even though Carol is with Daryl moving through a landscape as part of a unit, Carol seems to be thinking in terms of the individual separate from Daryl; making the decision to follow through with complicated problems, not because someone asked her to but because she takes it upon herself. This could speak to Carol’s inability or lack of education on interacting in relationships and distrust of significant others. She sees herself as being more capable to deal with the situation without realizing how it drains her and that someone more capable is standing right there. Carol carries this idea there is no other option but to carry burden, is implied.

There again, another viewer may not see this because that is what I see. I am internalizing the scene in terms of my past experiences.

Daryl’s character punch comes in short bursts, which is more effective than other characters. To some degree, Daryl is unconsciously applying horse training techniques on Carol. He applies pressure on Carol as she moves away in denial.  This tactic is implied with the conversation of who Carol is from Carol’s standard versus how Daryl knows her when they are looking at a painting. Carol moves away in denial because she claims Daryl doesn’t really know her. Daryl begs to differ. Then there is Noah under the bookcase, Daryl moves away to Carol’s panic. Carol goes in and acts to stop the zombie.

How do you get someone to make the right choices with the right pressure without traumatizing them further into mistrust or detachment?

I began to realize there was this pressure from the masses for Daryl to have sex with someone or something. I became aggravated that the character of Daryl couldn’t just develop at his own pace but now was being poked and prodded by unknown assailants that wanted him to bed the older woman, the younger woman, etc.

Carol is the semi-mature, older woman with what some would consider fading beauty or beauty with age and wisdom. Being close to his age would be more socially appropriate. She appears more of a motherly type.

Beth is the nubile youth growing into a woman through brutal acts and situations. On some level, Beth is mentored by Daryl but some viewers want this dynamic to turn into a sexual relationship. This is seen a lot in movies where older men are connected physically with younger women.

I am dwelling more on Daryl’s character here. He is the center of that particular universe through manipulation. He seems to be making or not making the decisions on his ethic where women, age, and who gives a shit comes into play. His character might feel he doesn’t have time for that or doesn’t need it.  Beth and Carol are fruit on a tree and he just has to decide which one to eat. What if Daryl were picked by someone? Someone he wasn’t particularly enamored with immediately; maybe enamored but in denial or just doesn’t notice because anxiety, deranged people, his standing on a constant ledge of madness and mayhem daily leaves him with the decision to not go there. Should Daryl be suspended in emotional animation or moved along into some fate worse than death, love or hate of a particular nature? Why is this so important?

The reactions of the world made room for puzzling over this. Do people really want happy-endings for favorite characters? Are viewers more concerned with who is hooking up with who? Should this be denied to the public or handed over? When you spend time watching a show to see who hooks up, you don’t get the sublime messages that are more meaningful. It is overshadowed by the potential for sex.

Shifting your mentality to what really matters when dealing with people that is not sex driven is where you truly connect to people and yourself. Emotionally developed characters can exist even while occupying a tragic landscape.

Daryl, Carol, and Beth can separately develop while being together and not in a sexual way. The sexual component lessens the family dynamic being built yet chess pieces can move into positions previously not occupied, but at what cost?

Relationship changes are not always for the best on the board. Connecting on the familial level is more important because sex is not the glue to relationships. If it is, the glue can wear away and the relationship shows the hallow emptiness of what was only a voyeur’s desire to see sex. This sex could be a lowering of the character and the spirit surrounding them. The characters are not barflies, getting drunk, and looking for love in all the wrong places while stabbing zombies in the head. Relationships are important components because even the characters walk along stabbing zombies in the head with no second thought to it. Killing the zombies is white noise to the viewer. This hook-up attitude can indicate a degrading of the character.

Daryl is the male sacrificial virgin. He has wings on his back and people want to see the character that has been elevated to archangel status fall to Earth by the hand of a love interest. This only works when it is the right person. Anything less would not get the same effect. It has to be quietly epic. Maybe people want to vicariously experience a perceived supernatural biblical moment. The fallen angel has to burn or become the thing it was before the fall. Do viewers want to see a sullying of characters to make them more sinful, more human, or average in terms of human nature? Handled right it could be the most beautiful thing but always potentially tragic.

After watching so many shows where sex is carnal and debasing to the character but conveyed or interpreted as empowering, I would just like to see a character find their way without being molested for viewers satisfaction on the character’s terms via the writer; not always the helpless badass blowing in the breeze.  

When you like characters equally in these potential hook-ups there is going to be a loser. People want connection but there isn’t thought put into the type of connection or where it is headed. Making sound decisions towards relationships tell you whether they will work out or not.

On-the-fly relationships could develop into meaningful things but only with work.

I began to think in terms of Carol, Beth, and Daryl as an outsider making decisions on what they needed, not what they wanted. Funny, how the outsider always sees something etched on the outer and inner shell of the person. Sometimes that interference from the outside world puts the character on the path or diverts the character off. It could also be a manifestation of the inner self’s development into the end product.

I wondered what kind of character, if any, would best be applied to the character of Daryl. I didn’t necessarily think it was Beth or Carol long term.

To best torture the character of Daryl the opposing character would have to be a sort of wild animal in the form of a devil combined with an angel, which is what Daryl is so the character would be reflective. The character would have to have the ability to kill, save, love, or hate Daryl, who would mutually be tortured by this dynamic yet not want to live with or without the other.  Again, it could be as in real life; nothing, finding no one ever, and dying all alone wondering why you weren’t good enough or chosen.

I refer back to those famous wings. In the strata of God and the Devil, the ultimate reconciliation would be this particular relationship. God must merge with the Devil, as one. This function would be Daryl with Daryl; Daryl with another person(s). There would be no moving on into other relationships without the malice of disappointing failure.  The common denominator is to be right with one's self before being right for another.

As humans we rush in blindly to complicated, torturous unmaintainable love-hate-sex-empty relationships. We even attach ourselves to people out of security and familiarity but does it ever make us feel the way we should? What exactly is that feeling and will we know it or do outside things distract us such as who Daryl will have sex with. Do we just want another image to add to the sex fantasy reel of Daryl doing it with someone regardless of the female face attached? Viewers can transpose their face onto Carol’s or Beth’s and be the one Daryl is with. What does Daryl represent as the male character?    

I really enjoyed this episode and could talk on it more. I’ll just sit here on my perch and read online fodder which tickles me on occasion; people and their online comments.

People do watch the show loyally so it is not just Daryl getting laid. If that ever came out I am sure people would have Hurricane-type parties where they pile on a couch just to see poor Norman Reedus giving it all he’s got. The expectation has got to be either crushing him or challenging him. I would hide on the Mothership to if everyone was peer pressuring me to death with sex. Maybe he just wants a motorcycle ride and a cold Slurpee?

Sex is never the long-term answer. This little monster wears away and you start seeing the real person you are sleeping with. Some poor souls don’t get to sleep in the bed overnight. They get kicked out where the cat stares from the warm cozy window at them out in the snow.  

Sex is a smaller facet of a bigger jewel. Feeding a voyeuristic need to spy on a character solely for the satisfaction of watching a character’s sex act seems to me a slap in the face to the character, especially when the character is being developed into a person with a life of its own. I asked myself this question: If it were my lover or husband would I want to share them, in that way, with the world? Or would I want to keep some things sacred? Would I want them to feel like I put them on the sacred pedestal, protected from grabbing, unloving hands?

It’s like saying to the character, “I don’t care about you. You are just here for my jollies.” I can warrant this attitude in people’s real lives as viewers.

I am not a prude but when did the happy ending stop at the moment two people have sex? Do people live for that magical moment solely and not the millions of moments thereafter with the person? Why in my mind do I feel this empty space of self-induced amnesia or dementia when I hear people talking about “the moment” and nothing of substance follows?

It’s bad enough when you are a teenager going through puberty that your friends pressure you into sex, your relatives constantly ask you if you’ve found someone, or you avoid going out because you don’t want to feel the rejection. The other side of this seedy coin is finding out the other person fragrantly lied to you thus making you a fool and they, a tart.

The ones you were interested in didn’t like you back, making you feel unsexy. Ergo I say this, but you aren’t psychic and maybe they did but your mind talked you out of it.

God help those unwed, deep in their thirties, forties and beyond. People eyeball and whisper they will never get married then give up on them; like you have to make those people with judgey eyes happy.  

I am laughing at myself for saying that but oh well.

Written by: Angelia Y Larrimore

~Courtesy of the AOFH~



The Label Makers of Skill.

Remember this: Do not stick your finger in the fire. It hurts.

When you are born you are a blank slate for someone else to write all over. You learn your parents chosen religion perhaps. You look at Vogue to figure out what clothes to wear. Your father may even be the one to teach you how to put makeup on.  Watch an adult on how to act for good or bad. Stick your finger in a fire on the gas stove until you realize this hurts. No one ever remembers the moment when the idea they were not who they were at that moment began. We just know that someone told us when we reached a certain age, we were suppose to become something. What this something is remained to be seen.

We get introduced to the idea of destiny and fate. We also get introduced to the idea of whether the glass is half full or half empty. There might not be a reason for any of this, but the concept that existance and reality, even if a mere illusion of the mind is mind-blowing.

You might have to pick a wife or a husband. Decide how many children you want. What career you want to pursue. After you exist in these identities for several years that may be how you define yourself.

At some point in a life, the identity we wear could come in the form of an employer preaching to us that we 'must wear many hats'. All of these hats were written about in books that are intended to groom the employee into a certain mold of agreeable manageability. This is for packaging where public consumption is concerned.

You go to a job, learn the skills but eventually everyone you meet who knows about you refers to you as 'the person that works as the hamburger tosser', or the 'writer for South by Southwest' but never who you actually are. People are not concerned about the center of your being in jobs. Consumers and employers just want you to do the work, be loyal solely to their business while you watch their glory grow in conjunction with being paid poorly for manual labor. Eventually to be discarded no matter how good a job you've done because the employer wants to get with the times or go with the newest self help book for business.

The same thing about identity can be said if you are always refered to as Tom's wife, Todd's sister, or that white lady that walks up and down the road. Your identity in regards to how other see you is not about who you are, but what you may do, who or what they equate with you, or whatever gossip is being spread down at the local churches.

People do not extend themselves past these outward identities that are subjective. Without realizing, you eventually start doing the same thing to yourself. You are the worker. Work gets you through. Work takes away all the negative things in your life by putting you in a place where you don't have to deal with the bad. Work hides you. You hide in work. If you were to lose work and money....where does life go for you?

Anxiety, the unknown, and the worst possible scenario given your mentality at the time.

When you finally hit the bottom of the trash can you realize there is bacteria living there. You are really not as low as it gets. There is always the ground outside the can itself. It's never really as bad as it could be.

People you come across will try to label you in the way of the Artista, the Shy Person, the Asshole, the Weird Old Lady Pushing the Grocery Cart, or 'that annoying person' because it makes them feel more at easy with putting you in a slot, then moving on. Nothing special there. You are weighed with some value that only they internalize but could be untrue when actually applied to you.

When it comes to your thinking, you either think positive or negative about yourself, then act accordingly. If you lose everything and fall down in a ditch thinking your life has ended then you didn't have your identity prioritized in a healthy way. You change jobs. Your job is not you even though employers would like your job identity to consume you so you will give them better work...which is far from the truth.

If you were to lose everything today....you would still be you. Nothing would change other than your financial situation which is not your identity. If your husband or wife left you, you would still be you. You are not their appendage. You did not merge by osmosis into their person or become a part of their psyche.

I was watching Life of Pi by Yann Martel this evening. There was a moment when the older main character Pi Patel says, "Even when God seemed to have abandoned me, he was watching. Even when he seemed indifferent to my suffering he was watching. And when I was beyond all hope of saving, he gave me rest. Then he gave me a sign to continue my journey."

The Profane can be found everywhere if you are open to receiving the lesson. You can read a 5000 word book, view a surrealist painting, or watch light hit the dew collected on the side of the road like a thousand diamonds. If you are open to what you see, read, hear, feel, or even taste that is what makes all the difference in the quality of your Soul.

Meaningful things are quite unextraordinary if looked upon with indifference. The universe is watching at all times, if you are good or bad, it doesn't matter. The Universe will construct itself around your Soul; tailor made to drive you to that state of being where you find actualization for all things in your existance. The more you fight the Universe the more it struggles to right itself and your life.

As for your identity.....you never actually lose it. You can't see it for all the other garbage you covered it up with. Take a spiritual bath....it does wonders.

Define yourself by your skill not your label.

~Written by: W Harley Bloodworth

ps...this has nothing to do with hunting. *hiccup*



Work Cited:
Life of Pi. Dir. Ang Lee. Writer. Yann Martel. DVD Fox 2000 Pictures, 21 Nov 2012

Identity

Remember this: Your identity is who you innately are. An activity is something you perform, or take part in.

As of today, I have not purchased my hunting license. The weather has been wet with a barrage of red bugs and mosquitoes. I have not seen deer or heard gunshots. There is just this uneasy feeling within me akin to something missing. My way of dealing with these emotions are to revert to nonchalance and caring less. I was in a pickle.

Is it my aversion to not wanting another bad experience? Who doesn't?

I wished I could purge what truly plagues me right now, but this wouldn't be a prudent thing. It is just the offending thorn in my paw and a problem I wish would finally resolve itself.

Lately, I have seen posts where several people reported their hunting was hindered for various reasons. When I examined people who were not experiencing this issue, there was an undertone concept underlining the attitude. I reflected on myself and other hunters.

What people identify with in terms of the self was a mystery I was toying with when it comes to hunters. Identity seems to be a mysterious woman that comes and goes with no clues left behind. Only a glass with lipstick or a photo of a woman with shades. Who or what is it? Why can it seemingly disappear, then when the truth illuminates it, a clearer image emerges with even more complicated or simplistic definitions. Mirrors are not even able to distinguish between the truth and the image. The truth lurks down in the recesses of the mind. A card catalog of life events, with meanings, distortions, revelations, and lies. Illusions dress it up and enshroud it in half-truths until the glass breaks and then an ooze drips from the fractures to reveal a hostage of expectation.

Whether it is a truth of yours or not, you will see proclamations from other hunters that hunting is their life's blood. For some, it is their secondary religion. I believe in good gourmet chocolate, heathen that I am. Others prostrate to their followers it is their passion or soul's glue; without it they are nothing. This is done to the disregard of other people whom are just as passionate, if not more so. Followers flock to these types, I would think, because of the shared ideal of complete submersion in an activity's elevation to something more than it is. These followers mimic the patterns of the person they are enamored with and will protect and fight for the stranger with a shared ideal of hunting.

The practice of emulating other hunters that are elevated by social media, endeavors, television, and writings is not a bad thing, as long as it doesn't harm the person's psyche. Hunters of the world can vary in their personal identities. Followers can mimic the object of their affection or idolatry. When you begin to take on another person's identity as your own, when it is not you, should be given great reflection, experimentation in your personal likes and dislikes, and branching out on your own without the influence of a stranger you do not know. Illusions are conjured all the time by less than experienced magicians.

I started examining one of my truths of identity. A truth is something that is a fact and part of your reality even if other people do not like it. It is not for others to like it but to acknowledge your truth.

In 2007, I lost everything maintained by the material world. Like a slow growing moss, I didn't realize how these problems bled into my non-material realm. A series of events after one prayer, ended in more disaster than one could ask for. I was a job title without a name, working for a greatly flawed pillar of the community. I was killing myself at a hard labor job to support my child with no public assistance, child support, or significant other. This didn't make me better or worse than anyone else because all people have their sufferings. It just is what it is. You have to cope because functioning is not an outlet. I do the work and reflect more on my inner self. I forgot myself instead of lost myself. Being so busy ,you pass yourself. Passing yourself is not a good thing.

There are also people that will attempt to turn you into a good little soldier for their benefit. You come out looking like a pod person from the planet Mars that repeats the same thing ad nauseum. Take me to your leader; take me to your leader.

Long periods of extreme, even pressure will do odd things to a human mind. Consider Elk. Creatures do strange and almost epic things under pressure thereby astonishing people when their truth is discovered or spoken.

Here I will interject, it is not the fact that you can't be a single parent with a child and not support yourself. It is the grueling, non-supported wear it takes on your energy and psyche when you realize that there is nothing and no one to help you. If you can't stay afloat, there are some that will lend you a hand and some willing to step on your fingers to watch you drown while they laugh. Others believe it is a warranted punishment for some sin you must or have commited, when in fact it is the residue of cause and effect.

Everyone needs support, even people you dislike and dislike you. Being spiteful is counterproductive and a waste of effort. My support came in the form of a suggestion by my therapist at the time. She tasked me with trying different things regardless of whether they failed or not. I was to build or construct something representative of an aspect of myself or something I was doing. If I were to hold up a picture of something for the world to see, what would it be? Would they understand it? It didn't matter if the world cared, as long as I did.

Of course, there were people that had no clue to this. They only look at the superficial, while having no intentions of forming any kind of short or long term bond with you. There were times other peoples' behavior almost made me reel against my creation. I would destroy it and start over while  never getting anywhere.  I finally decided to pull the bandage off while ripping away the scab of things. New scabs form. Life is a progression like that.

People displace off onto the nearest or what they consider the strongest person. You've proven yourself able to take it; whatever it is. We look at others as indestructible when they are borderline disasters waiting to happen. What if you have reached your threshold for worldly poisons? A human body and soul does have it's limits. That limit, when reached, has to dissipate of it's own accord. We place things on ourselves and other people that shouldn't be there, especially long term.

Due to this life event, I spent several months in therapy suffering from other long standing problems and identity loss. I loved my work in veterinary medicine so much that I took a hit when I was no longer in that field of employ. I suffered some trauma as well due to an accident not of my making. I look back now and realized I missed the diagnostics, the procedures, the patients, clients, and the distraction most of all. Work saw me through any hurtful problem by distracting me from things I could not control. The quality and quantity of my capabilities were centered around medicine of some sort. I took great pride in my work, how people appreciated that I cared, and my ability to move forward even in an emergency situation. I learned how to cut through the crap and find the real problem. Ergo, the solution at hand.

When my son graduated, I wanted to do something for myself. I wanted to do one hunt and then call it quits because I was limited, which is okay. I was talking to this nice hunt broker and mentioned it to him. He asked me did I have amnesia, which will tell you how under the radar this problem is. Identity loss doesn't indicate you are crazy, you just identified with an inappropriate activity. Veterinary medicine was an activity I took part in. It wasn't who I was. After veterinary medicine left, I was still present. I didn't go away, the work did.

It is the same with hunting. You are no more or less a person when you are not participating directly in the sport. Again, there are hunting participants that yodel how they want to be inclusive, then when pressed you learn they aren't really going to do that.  They can't be caught looking bad either; reputation and all. You find other things to do that will bring you just as much joy. This predicament could also put you on the path of something you can love just as much. Enrichment can come from many different sources. As humans, we need to be viable and active.

It could or could not be hard, when we see other people endeavoring in a sport that we no longer can participate in. A truth here is: if you are lucky then things do not stay the same forever. At some point, the tide will turn for your benefit or against it. Either way, in the long run you will see the wisdom of the thing that blocks you, if you give it a chance.

I then reflected on my non-participation. I could wait it out until it gets cooler to avoid the bugs then see what happens. I could also let other people have their turn at a deer. I could spend sometime not staying in the woods isolating myself and actually speak to other human beings. I could do a lot of things. Once you realize your time is now open to doing something else, you could accomplish all kinds of things. Not hunting, is not the end of the world. It is just a temporary chapter in your life or an avenue to do something just as important.

If you have ever felt you have lost something intangible that you considered a part of yourself, think again. If you see someone that might be having difficulty, in a nice respectful way, offer some help with no pressure. Sometimes they just want to know you actually acknowledge their existence.

Building a new identity should be given great care. Completely stealing another person's will not last because it is not you. It is theirs. Selecting the parts of your identity should be given as much scrutiny as you would if you were buying expensive haute couture.  Resurrecting or building a new identity takes a lot of patience and asking  yourself the questions that hurt you the most then finding answers. Other peoples' suggestions on what they think you are should be taken into consideration, but ultimately you are the decision-maker on your innards and outtards. Be brave but be truthful with yourself.

Do not be discouraged because you are not like everyone else. That is the beauty of it. You are not. Go forth and be different if you want.

As for me, hunting is an activity I take part in. It is not who I am, it is something I do. I can't expect others to agree with this. That is their path. My truth is much deeper than hunting yet hunting helps me to visit that place where it exists. I am quite happy with that.

Explore who you are, could be, and will be. Your life is short but there are many hours in it. Those hours could be spent creating, constructing, and implementing a grand design for yourself that speaks of you to others. Why would you wear the outer shell of someone else?

~Courtesy of the AOFH~

The Shifting Shadows

Remember this: The midday sun casts a shadow on the ground but the setting sun only makes a solid form appear like an empty shadow when really it is solid as a rock.

Recently I modified a wooden dilapidated chicken brooder into a coop with heat lamps to keep the chickens I have hand raised since April-May of last year warm. The golden buffs were complaining like two old ladies and seeing them with frost huddled up on a wire laying pen made me feel sorry for their plight. I was their care-taker so I felt compelled to build a better mouse trap for them. I must say my carpentry skills are becoming occult I tell you.

I resembled a chicken thief sneaking up on the fowl in the dark to gently grab their legs and shove them “into the light”. They showed their appreciation by dropping a couple of eggs off the next morning. Seeing my business was done I walked around to feed my horses. As I was tossing sweet feed I looked out over the back field to see if I could detect movement. Near the swamp I thought I saw a dark shape move. I walked out of the corral to get a better look. Here I was doing the three-step until I was out in the barren garden behind some very thin wispy dried weeds. I stood and stared for a while. Lo and behold seven dark shapes strolled out along the barbed wire fence. I wondered if I could get any closer. I shuffled on stopping randomly and standing still. One of the horses came out and I thought she was going to blow my cover but I moved up the row. Eventually the other three horses came out and I was walking down the dirt row in the center of them. I thought two can play at that game Mr. Deer herd. I began to think about the things these tricky deer have done in the past.

I remembered over the summer I was picking string beans when I decided to lie down in the tall grass to take a rest. The light was right and I wanted to watch bugs. After a while of bug watching and wondering if a snake would slither through I got up and went about my business planning to come back to pick more beans. The next day I discover the deer have wallowed in the same area I laid down in. I scratched my head and said, “Huh.” Undoubtedly the deer tried to get my stink on them in a pivotal move of strategy to hide their scent when men with guns came a-calling. Well played; well played. How smart is that?

I realized that while looking at these deer they were nothing more than black silhouettes dancing across the late evening to disappear at their leisure into the beige high grass by a now defunct watering hole.

This shadowing effect got me to thinking about how in hunting we are obstructed, confused, or enlightened by shadows or dark solid moving objects. Seeing the movement across the fields of animal bodies that look like dark specks, or see things ghosting by in our periphery before first light or at the close of day will mess with your mind.

The shadow that is cast by mid-day sun is not solid yet in the evening the lack of sunlight causes a dark shape to seem like a shadow. That is why you should always take care when you aim your gun at what you are going to pull the trigger on. If you can’t see it, don’t put yourself in a bad situation.

It’s amazing the act of casting a shadow because it can be ether-like, an illusionary solid, or even one of the mind. How could one possibly apply the shadow to hunting aside from something you think you see but might not be, all that it seems.

Here is the opportunity for the shadow of the deer to help us as individuals accept our own shadow.

“The persona is what we would like to be and how we wish to be seen in the world. It is our psychological clothing and it mediates between our true selves and our environment just as our physical clothing presents an image to those we meet. The ego is what we are and know about consciously. The shadow is that part of us we fail to see or know.” (Johnson 4)

We are followed by the shadow of things when ever there is the orb of enlightment. The shadow can not hide. Yet our shadow is constantly with us, yet we forget it is there sometimes whispering in our ears as projection. This projection is cast onto the outer realm of our bodies onto other people, things, or self.

It would be safe to say that we truly aren’t the person we really are except around people that have grown up with us or know us intimately. Outwardly we put on this display to entice other people to befriend or take us seriously with no guarantee they will do such or any idea there has to be a mutual exchange of interactions.

Accepting one's shadow to balance out the dark and light aspects of ourselves deep down is the most honest thing a person can do. Trying to rectify these two poles and bring about a certain amount of unstable balance is a challenge for the person who hunts. Owning up to the facts that we take animal life, ingest that life, and carry on in the wake of what would be considered destructive behavior is embracing that part of oneself that is capable of such things for the sake of survival. Others who are not presented with dealing with this darker half as a hunter still encounter the shadow in their life as love, hate, obsession, resentment, etc. No one is immune or above the shadow. The shadow presents itself in different ways and is never destroyed only countered.

We are solid objects that can look and seem as dark formless purveyors of death from the perspective of the outside viewer when the hunting act is considered. Being honest with yourself on why, how, and to what extent you perform as a hunter rules the way in which  you form a code of morals to deal with the world at large. This world has no limits even when attitudes are projected onto you by others. There is the constant push to be like everyone else so bonds can be formed. Is that really necessary to fit into the square my little circles? Own your darkness and you own yourself; this is when the light breaks through and comes in. Huntress, own thy shadow.

Written by: W Harley Bloodworth

PS. Can't wait to see which one of you magazines grabs this up and posts it on the cover, in an article or on a meme.

Literature Cited:
Johnson, Robert A. Owning Your Own Shadow, Understanding the Dark Side of the Psyche. Harper Collins Publisher, New York, NY. 1971 Print.

Turkey Feathers Make Everything Better.

Remember this: When life has you down and it’s not hunting season there is no reason “not” to go into the woods.

 
I have been in a bad mood because my brother told me something that confirmed some situation that has been surrounding me. Up till now it was no more than a vague idea crossing my mind based on someone else's behavior. No one would say anything to me so I was left with the poison thorns put in my path and had to go it alone as well. It has bothered me because I am in a quandary on what to do about it. Now I know what flesh eating bacteria feels like except I don't think I'm going to lose a limb over this; at least I hope not.I moved my camera to an undisclosed location to see if I could catch anything. There was a debate that there might not be anything worth having in that lot of woods. I took my laptop to check it in the woods and put the memory card back in it. The only thing on it was my boobs. The pile was not disturbed even though I knew something was there. I am going to leave it for about three days. Hopefully the battery will not die. It’s on 90%. I dropped some more pears. The apples from the last timer were gone.

I don't know why but when I put that camera up I had gotten it into my head that I was going to come back, divert the grassy area by walking in the woods to see what was on the other side since the storm. I had my mind dead set on finding some turkey feathers. ESP? Deja Vu? Who the hell knows? I just wanted some turkey feathers. I followed the tree line of the woods which was outlined by a small ditch/fire break. Let me tell you it was a mess. I thought I would find some old turkey nest and there would be feathers. I had to use the machete to chop this tree out of the way. I am sure the neighbors were wondering what I was doing back there as the one man's Jack Russell would not shut it up.
I can only imagine if he had let that beast loose I would be back there chopping away while some crumb snatcher was gnawing my leg. Much like the annoying sounds of mosquito.
It was really humid and my clothes were wet with sweat. I should have built myself a fire and chanted. It was like a sweat lodge.
I was having all kinds of anxiety. I had a raging headache and felt a little out of sorts. After I got in there whacking away at my problem in my head I forgot about it and my maladies were gone. I wondered back to the end of the path. I found one turkey feather that was brown and white striped. It was around 14 inches. I stuck it in my ponytail sideways. I wondered some more. I found a smaller one that was iridescent. I jammed that one in there to. Beats carrying them. I stood for a moment in the area because there are a lot of dirt piles long covered with forest debris. You could see the trail marks where things had come and gone and worn them down. I didn't go deep in the area because I knew the wildlife would probably stay around the edge of the tree line. I guess that is why they tell you to measure the distance from the center of the field to the edge of the woods. Someone comes a shooting you only have so much time to make a run for it and for cover; duck and weave-duck and weave.

For 'dumb' animals that's pretty smart. I went in and out of the woods in this field's edge. I didn't see any tracks what so ever so nothing came across it since the wind and rain. The wildlife is probably feasting off those corn fields and people's personal gardens. My dad told me that they ate up all his broccoli, squash, beans, and whatever else they couldn't tote off. Probably thought it was an Outdoor Golden Corral? I was watching a show last night where moose will tear up a broccoli field. Can't say I blame them.

I stuck to the inner edge which was about 12-15 yards from the outside of the field. I found another feather at the usual spot I see them go in or come out of. It was the brown one I posted on my page. I measured it to be 14 1/4 inch long. There was a serious quill on it. I stuck that one in my hair to. I can only imagine if someone had come a rolling up on me back there holding a machete in my hand, turkey feathers 14 inches off my head, serious tan, and the crazy eye.
 
It did give me a sense of being mentally off the grid in a indigenous kind of way. Being a little wild heathen is not a bad thing every now and again. Add turkey feathers and you've got a walking crazy bomb. I just didn't feel choked down by situations or things that were mental prisons I had to worry over. Shit that brings you down is like being in prison. It’s God awful.
 
Anna Botsford Comstock had wrote about two occupations for Saturday afternoon or forenoon (I think anytime but she had a target audience), " Out in this , God's beautiful world, there is everything waiting to heal lacerated nerves, to strengthen tired muscles, to please and content the soul that is torn to shreds with duty and care."(Comstock 3)
 
I hear this strange clutch of noises that sounded like baby raptors. I went to investigate. I was almost right on top of them when I saw up in the tree top the parent bird. She was skipping a beat with her cries. The fledgling birds were making a racket to but they were moving around. I decided she / he must be teaching her babies to hunt or fend for themselves. There was a pissy squirrel raising hell down there to. That must have been what it was after. I watched her from where I was. The bird perched on a limb and you could see her cranking her neck as she was looking at me. I decided to move along but it followed me around the tree tops watching.
 
I sat down on this old fallen tree that was bark-less and turning green. I pondered my problems. I didn't know what to do. I felt like I had been here before but because of my state of mind a couple of years ago I was really in a bad place. I didn't want to do for anyone. My attitude was let everyone rot in Hell for their sins. I wasn't going to put my hand out to help one drowning soul. I did without a lot and I mean a lot. my mentality was rebellion or maybe it was right down nastiness.
I feel like there was something I missed, or someone I went by? Some situation I should have connected to but I wasn't exactly ready. I felt like Magua out for blood. Eat your enemy’s heart I thought. Put them under the knife if you will. It’s a mentality not an actual intent to do harm.
 
I then thought of going into this store the other day. I was in the book aisle. I randomly picked up a book and read just one page. One page mind you. That page said to me, it was one of those devotional type books, in summary:
 
“I have burdened you with many situations that were not all good. Even in your pain I removed you for a great while because I am clearing your mind. For you to do what I want you must have a clear mind and up till now you have been polluted by the world and people around you. You have cried many tears and cursed life for what it has done. All these things I have done to you to bring you to this place where the many blessings I have in store for you, will now be given. Even though there are many troubles and obstacles in your path ~do not given up~ for you will succeed in the things you are to do. Do not give up.”
 
I thought this was a rather odd and random thing for me to do. I shut the book and thought someone had just told me something I really needed to hear.
I guess that is another thing about the mystery of life: One needs to recognize the clue that is given and follow it through?
 
Most people think I am bat shit crazy anyway because they don't bother to get to know me. Just judge me from the fence. I say keep doing that one day you'll learn.
 
I walked along the field because I heard 'walking' behind me. I walked up on this black snake that was a yardstick in length with a lot of small bumps in its body. It was sunning itself beside a root that almost made me not see it. It looked like two chopsticks side by side. I crossed over in and out of a ditch them climbed up on a dirt hill to look around. I headed back to my truck parallel to the road access that was over grown with grasses.
 
I finally sweated myself back to my truck via the continual barks of the Jack Russell. I loaded up and pulled out. As I pulled out of the path and drove home I looked back out at the field I had been walking along the edges of. Out there were three turkeys. One had blown himself up. I started laughing. Those bastards had been hiding somewhere there the whole time. I turned around because I wanted to see the Ninjas for myself. There they were.
 
Gobble Gobble, in the field. I laughed all the way home.
 
Written by: W Harley Bloodworth
 
~Courtesy of the AOFH~

Literature Cited and Suggested Reading:

Comstock, Anna Botsford. Handbook of Nature Study. Ithaca, New York:Cornell University Press, (1939). pp. 3. Print

Link to order:
http://www.cornellpress.cornell.edu/book/?GCOI=80140100925610