Its been a while since writing anything purely reflective. Time, work and life chip away at moments to stop and transfer thoughts to paper. This is a healthy aspect of life, one I do not take part in as much as I used to. One of the critical elements of personal growth is the ability to reflect through writing, and in the past years I’ve drifted away from introspective writing and reflection to meet the demands of publications asking for information based articles. Nothing wrong with that, but I’ve denied myself the ability to write for the sake of writing. It hurts.
The anticipation is high for 2018. But anticipation gets doused with reality the first 100 yards into the timber. I get it, but, the trips, the country to be seen, the nights to be spent in tents, cabins and the back of my car all feed the festering wanderlust of my mind as I wait out the last few weened of summer, saving up my money and energy for the next 4.5 months.
Long ago I made choices regarding how I’d handle specific scenarios regarding natural human emotions in the effort to hunt and chase the wild. While a great deal of lonely Saturday nights has come and gone it is just a part of what worked in my preparation. Each season I want my soul to be a clean blank canvas for the wilderness to carve its lasting impressions upon.
This fall has turned into more than just a few spattering of hunts here an there. This season shaped and developed over the course of the summer to be the most epic fall of my life. Anticipation and expectations are always higher, only to be crushed by the fickle reality of chasing real animals. Long ago I learned to curb such hope and let the excitement fuel preparation. Shooting habit, exercise habits, eating habits, scouting habits prayer habits and meditation habits play a role in channeling the high hopes into food-grade results
My gear is sitting in three different states right now. Part of it is home in New York, some are here in Missouri with me in my loft, and the rest is about to be packed deep into the mountains of Oregon at the end of the week to elk camp. Good gear is like an old friend. I’m not sure why. Probably just familiarity. Elk in Oregon, mule deer in Wyoming and whitetails in Missouri, New York, and Texas. Hard work pays off.