I Am This Woman

I am — this close to signing up for two classes at the community college continuing ed program. In fact, I’m rather amazed at myself for even thinking I could do it, but the more I thought, the better I felt about it.

The classes? oil painting and piano.  !!!!

I might as well take a tatting class while I’m at it, and perhaps croquet lessons.

My rationale is that when I took photography back when I was teaching part-time, I was never busier but I also never felt more alive to be finally doing something that I’d always wanted to do. I’ve been saying for years that I “really should take piano lessons” and that when I was 50, I would take up oil painting.

Well, instead of the Italian class that I thought I was going to take (all of the times conflict with a previous commitment), I browsed the catalog and lo and behold, both oil painting and piano occur at times that are sensibly and ostensibly lunch hour and on a weekend.

Handwriting on the wall? or am I making my own destiny?

Did this start with teaching myself the three-needle bind-off and cabling? Can we blame this on knitting?

Maybe!

All I know is that creativity breeds more creativity. There is always success and failure when you branch out and try something new (I suck at knitting lace, but that will come at another time, perhaps), but it does something to your brain (wow, that’s real scientific), and encourages more risk-taking and creative impulses.

(Oh ok, what is going on in your brain is actually neural pathways being excited and warmed up, used to capacity, and even new neurons being mapped and formed. Use these pathways more often and, like a good dirt road, they will begin to be easier to drive over and more familiar shortcuts to places you really want to go. The somewhat more scientific explanation.)

So, maybe I’ll be painting, playing AND writing come fall semester!

I have returned from Africa, and I am jet-lagged, -whelmed (I pendulum between under and over on an hourly basis) with my life here, and changed.

This might shock you, or not surprise you. If it thrills you, please do write to me or comment.

I am this woman, and I am a hunter.

For the last five years, I have worked for a hunting organization. I began my shift there at “hunting-neutral,” more in an effort to feed my family and keep a roof over our heads. As for hunting, my family did it, we had guns, it was no big deal. I was never invited along. But I understood that world, and I had a contribution to make. It was a good career move.

Fast forward to Hungary last year - I was invited to hunt and I got a gold medal deer in the forest on a beautiful day. My first shot in the field as a hunter at age 49, and it was a gold medal animal. I have the PDF of my published story on this hunt, but have yet posted it. I will later, or you can ask for it if you’re interested.

I went to Africa on safari for both photos and animals. I took my father’s rifle, as is, after 35 years of inactivity, and I hunted animals on foot using all legal and ethical means of fair chase. My take was one each: blesbok, red hartebeest, blue wildebeest, kudu, gemsbok, warthog, jackel and african wildcat. The later two were at the request of the farmer who was having predation problems among his pregnant springbok and sable population.

The photos are in this Flickr photoset.

I will blog about Africa from time to time, but I will probably write about hunting in another blog as yet to be developed. This is a part of me and my life, but not necessarily part of the future mission and goals of this blog (and The Next Big Things To Come).

Hunting, in my opinion and from my research, is something that people have done for centuries for various reasons. As with any ages-old technology in our modern/post-modern age, there are permutations and developments that push the envelope of certain sensibilities, and there is an active conversation among global hunters and shooters about these issues. But it is not a black and white world, and it continues to fascinate me, as does the world of material culture (handcrafts, creativity, cooking and ‘women’s work’).

I like the fact that my very presence in the field with a gun causes some paradigm shifting and confusion to some. “A woman hunter” is still a rather novel term, but I know there are many women who hunt and don’t care two figs for what people think (this is one of the benefits of turning 50).

But Artemis and Diana, goddesses of the hunt, are both embodied as women, as goddesses. Something to ponder.

As for Africa, I left a part of me there, just as I did with Hungary and Spain. There is much to be said for world travel, but I never knew that I would be so affected and changed by meeting people and sharing such a deep connection as hunting with them. It was amazing, wonderful, awful, aweful and life-changing.

I am this woman, and I am grateful for what I’ve experienced.