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Monday, December 28, 2015

The Hunt

The Hunt
By Chris Mullis – April 14, 2014
He stalks his prey. He is the hunter. He is alive. 
He senses the world around him more deeply.
To most it must seem an incredibly boring exercise—
to walk through the woods searching for game that never appears,
to sit listening in a tree stand shivering from the cold,
to come home empty handed more often than not.
Yet to those who know, it is the way you really hear the birds and the wind,
or sense a quiet that is not really quiet at all.
It is the way the snap of a twig turns on the ancient instincts in your soul,
remembering thousands of years of the hunt
when the next meal depended upon the success of actions took.
It is the way your entire being—every sense, every reflex and intuition—
comes alive the moment your prey reveals itself.
It is failing in the critical moment because you hesitate or
succeeding because you are decisive.
It is hours, days, months, or years of hunting
compressed into the moment of a squeezing trigger or flying arrow.
It is the sacredness of standing over a living creature in the last moments
as life bleeds out because of actions you chose.
It is seeing the blood on your hands and knowing you are innocent.
Those who don’t know may say it is cruel.
Perhaps they romanticize life, unaware of the real sacredness of it.
Perhaps they are unwilling to truly taste.
But those who consciously taste also know.

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