As a hunter, I am used to walking the same territory, looking for the same trees, the same paths, finding comfort in the ground beneath my feet, traversed by generations of hunters before me. Occasionally, I come across changes that disrupt my flow; a tree felled by a storm, a gulley created by water runoff. Nature’s changes feel inevitable, acceptable, fated in their arrivals. Like the wildlife around me, I simply alter my course and follow a new path, using my senses and skills to find my way.
Disruptions caused by humans, though, feel more intentional. Engineered to cause chaos, not calm. We have spent a summer disrupted by road construction. At times it’s as if there is no way in and no way out of the places I go. Home, work, the city, the suburbs…all disrupted by orange cones and flashing lights. Can we, hunters, navigate this disruption the way we do a fallen tree in the woods? A tree that under the right conditions can deliver a crop of Morel mushrooms that make the change a fortuitous one?
As Americans, we faced a huge disruption on this day in 2001. Two planes deliberately crashed into a landmark and we were all changed instantly and forever. That tragedy colored our image of ourselves, our place in the world and our very existence. Everyone remembers where they were when it happened and how disaster continued to fall like dominos that day. We became united as Americans and as a tribe, reaching out to loved ones, embracing strangers, holding our families a little tighter as our hearts opened to the great losses of that day.
We all became hunters that day, able navigators finding a new path, leading to better days. I’d like to take a moment and reflect on the loved ones who were lost. Now, let’s reflect on disruption and how it alters the bedrock on which we stand. We can stare at a fallen tree and turn around and walk away. Or we can learn from nature to resume our flow, working within in the natural order to hunt down the best things in life.
