I never know what each day or night will bring. Today I shot a pistol out in the desert past Warren towards Naco. I was in the Bisbee Coffee Company sitting at a table by the window when Havis came by and invited me to go shoot a gun with him in the desert. It intrigued me…how many times do you get to shoot a gun? So off we went coffee cups in hand to a turn off the main road. Havis put his Jeep into 4-wheel drive and we drove bumping and jumping down the dirt road a bit until we came to an open field where lots of previous shooting had been done. The ground was littered with shells.

Havis got out his new pistol…a long-barreled pistol that looked just like the guns cowboys used in the old westerns. He loaded her up and proceeded to shoot at a plastic water bottle on the ground a ways a way. The sound of each shot rang in my ears…so loud that I plugged my ears with my fingers.

Now it was my turn. I held the gun in my right hand, cocked the hammer all the way back, held the handle with my left hand and pulled the trigger. The sound was loud and my aim off and I was left holding the gun staring at the missed bottle. Well I’ll just try again. I tried again numerous times and just couldn’t hit that bottle…seems like it takes awhile to get to know a gun…to befriend it. I never thought I would ever consider befriending a gun. But there’s a lot of things in my life I never thought I would do so here I was again expanding my repertoire.

We didn’t spend much time at the firing range which looked to me like an old dump. Havis just wanted to try out his new pistol. I wished I’d brought my camera because he did look like a cowboy firing off that gun.

The gun was a 22 which means I’m told it can kill animals and humans and it makes little dirt pockmarks where the shell blasts into the earth. It felt a little dangerous and I was careful with the gun and made sure I was out of the way when Havis fired off his rounds. It felt strange feeling the power of the shot from that pistol…it didn’t make me feel powerful but I knew that I held harm in my hands. I knew I held intimidation and war and food-getting and a tool developed to destroy and cause death. Yet Havis said he is surprised that guns can be so beautiful and that they can be an extension of himself. There certainly is a fascination with guns in this world. We have more than enough of them. I find them cold and hope that I never have to use one to protect myself or to kill an animal for food.

I held and shot a gun today. I rode out into the desert and returned with my coffee cup empty. I guess atom bombs started out as guns but they are made only to kill millions of humans. How did we get to this place? How could we create an extension of ourselves that can do so much damage? Are we so afraid of dying? Do we feel that if we kill millions of people we will be safe? We’re always looking for an advantage, a way to compete, to win. Where will it end?

I remember at Berkeley in the late 60s hippies put flowers in the barrels of guns. Can we use them as flower vases, art pieces, recycle them into peace symbols? It frightened me a bit holding that gun today knowing that soldiers at that moment were firing other guns, automatic guns, at people elsewhere on the planet. That people were dying and crying and in pain because we want to stop them from hurting us. Love destroying itself to be itself. Then we are only left with fear, pain and anger. We are left being controlled, addicted, to these emotions.

So I sort these thoughts and emotions out from my experience today. Are the spent shells out in that field that we left today a symbol, a mark, a reminder? Do they tell a story or do they just lie there inert and devoid of feeling, spent shells, spent lives. I don’t know.