DISCLAIMER: This is in no way an attack on the sport of hunting or any of the strategies involved. :)
My family has always been one of hunters. My grandpa, uncles, cousins, even my mom. Then, a few years ago, my sister, the girly one, decided she wanted to take it up. Serious shock.
I, on the other hand, have never really had that desire. So this weekend, I again found myself alone in the house, while both of my parents and my sister dove deep into their rediscovered love of hunting. They got up while it was dark, braved the cold, sat quietly for hours. And I slept in, warm in my bed. Insert satisfied smile here.
To be honest, I think hunting is admirable. There's something about roughin' it, about knowing that if you ever needed to, you could supply your own food, live off the land. And I love that.
But still, I'm not a hunter. I'd love to learn to shoot a bow, but I'm not a fan of guns. I adore being outside, but hate sitting still. After weeks of my family nagging me for not joining, my dad said to me last night, "You know, you should really come out there with us and try it." Then I had one of those moments, where the tornado of my thoughts suddenly settles and in the aftermath lies a clear picture, a realization.
I kept thinking that everything pointed to this notion that I should like hunting--where I grew up, how I was raised, the family I have, where I live. I've tried to trick myself into liking it, into giving it a try with the dozens of family members who have asked me. But all weekend, while my family donned their coveralls and camo, I instead slipped on my Toms and Ray Ban knockoffs to go get creative-- shooting with my weapon of choice.
This feeling that I didn't belong followed me around the empty house, like I somehow couldn't quite place myself back into the mold I came from. But then something snapped. I was tired of trying to fit into it when I clearly didn't.
As my dad's words were still coming out of his mouth, I suddenly and mindlessly said, "I just couldn't do it. That's not hunting. That's sitting and waiting for something to come along. I don't like to wait around. If I'm going to hunt, I'm going to go out and chase. I want to chase."
Hmm. I have no idea where those words came from. I didn't even think them before they escaped. But I get it now. I understand my disconnect with the idea of hunting.
If you want something, go after it. Chase that dream, that idea, that goal, that love, that person, that passion, that version of yourself you want to be, that you are. Get out in the cold, in the dark, where it's uncomfortable and scary. But chase. Run. GO. Yes, sometimes good things come to those who wait. But radical things happen to those who chase.
You don't know what the chances are of that thing, whatever it may be, dropping right in front of you at the exact moment you're ready to claim it. So get ready now. Find your direction. Take your aim. And when do, stop waiting. Stop sitting. Get up.
Go do something about it.