Legacies

Today I spent several hours as the purveyor of death to a bunch of shooting clays. Shooting trap is more art than science. The science was provided to me in the form of a six thousand dollar shotgun. Yeah, I didn't stutter. I've shot with with equally beautiful and expensive guns before. On two other occasions, I've been in the position to be allowed to shoot what can only be termed a legacy gun

(this image is as close as I could find to the guns I shot).

These shotguns are simply works of art. Deadly and beautiful at the same time. Perhaps they are an analogy for love. They were certainly created with a loving hand. The delicate scrollwork and hand smoothed walnut stock gleaming in the afternoon sun. The trick to shooting is to not think about it. Thinking causes you to hesitate. The ultimate test. Thinking = Failure.

How much time do we spend over thinking our lives? The decisions before us? The possibilities that exist? Not enough? Too much? Perhaps, we should apply more of the shooting ethos to our thought process and simply eliminate it. If thinking = failure, does not thinking = success? Maybe, maybe not. The reality is that the $300 shotgun the next guy is carrying is just as effective in the right hands. In the wrong hands, it's a simple blunt instrument. All the engraving in the world isn't going to make you look good when the chips are down and the clay is in the air. Only the artisan with the right eye hand coordination is going to walk away with the sense of satisfaction that they did it.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a wild card shooter. I can be awesomely on target on the hardest sections of the course (freakishly so) or I can miss six straight passes on easy traps. Perhaps this is the perfect analogy for my life. I'm a wild card. I've missed a lot lately, but I'm not putting up the gun. Reload muthertrucker and bring your best, cuz I'm coming for you. Six straight passes... whaddya say?

In the end, it's about the legacy you leave behind. Chin up, eyes defiant 'til the end or meekly into the mist of night? The choices look easy 'til you have to say 'pull'. The time for snickering, smirking and feeling superior are over. It's time to put up or shut up. Like the magnet on my fridge says, "Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow.” - Mary Anne Radmacher