Shotgunning
Today I forced myself to take some good advice:
“Acknowledge that part of you is thinking ‘I can’t,’ and turn that off…”
“…break the pattern of numb routine.”
“Get lost in your home town.”
When the opportunity to do something I’d never done before presented itself I took the reigns and rode hard. In a conscious effort to shatter my routines, get lost, and do something I didn’t think I could do I drove a ways out into the country with some Montanan folk to shoot guns.
A shotgun was placed in my arms. I concentrated on gripping the weapon to keep control of my nerves. I loaded the shells and snapped the gun closed, my arms were shaking. The young man teaching me to follow the clay pigeons (orange discs) was amiable, smiled easily and spoke in a way that didn’t entirely convey what he meant. With minor effort I was able to decode it and explain the techniques to myself. My first shot was the gun-shooters equivalent of a newborn foal, wobbly, uncertain and full of fail. The other four were fired with confidence. I shot my pigeons down, 3 of 5.
The shaking nervous fear I had was not for my safety or that of others, it was for the embarassment of failure. Luckily I learn quickly, or had a natural acclination towards shooting, or years of duckhunt, halo and DOOM finally paid off.
I’m an effing surgeon with a shotgun.
3 years ago