Thursday, June 3, 2010

The Gun Range.

My dad LOVES guns. He has so many, I have lost count. He's like a kid in a candy store when he talks about them with someone equally as knowledgeable or someone that wants to go shooting with him. It's been a recent hobby of his and he's so entitled to it. My hero has been through a lot in his life, and it's far from over, but this is something he feels is a measure of safety for the household and also, pure recreation for himself. Win-win situation right?

Anyway, a recent conversation I've had with a good friend of mine made me rethink something. The things we do, everything we touch needs to really support our inner-self. Emotionally and spiritually. And if there's a huge disconnect, then just ... don't.

So my dad was asking when do I want to go shooting - I thought about it, and there was no enthusiasm or a stirring in my thoughts. It's the violence, it's the symbol of what it stands for. It's also shooting at a piece of paper several yards away and not having any sense of my skill level. It's like shooting in a pond with fish - I have no idea if I shot into the pond or if the fish are just bubbling at the surface.

I said no.

My brother asked why. I think there's better ways to bond with my dad and brother. I don't have to feel like the sounds of these guns shooting cut me to the core so I can feel it in my bones. These may be instruments of fun in this context, but very easily can they be instruments of disaster if something were to happen. I'd rather skydive.

So I'll ask them to do that with me :)

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