Back in this day…..in my Billy Kid Stetson…those Tony Llama boots you don’t see…my .357 magnum…none of which I have today, I learned to shoot straight (cans off a stump) and I called myself Montana Skye.
I had felt most all my life that I was misfitted, had been born into the wrong times. I was an outlaw at heart then, a contractor by trade. I lived dangerously although viewed in retrospect, foolishly. I experienced the thrills of life on the edge…was alert, felt alive and free and I was kick-ass. Apparently, I needed to learn some harsh lessons. To this day, I could regret that, but except for the inadvertent difficult impact on others, I don’t.
One night, I had to decide if I could pull the trigger on this gun to protect myself, my children, my home. I had to decide if, in fact, I could know for certain that I would shoot without hesitation if I was forced to. I understood that my slightest doubt would jeopardize the outcome. As devastatingly rich in angst and terror as that night was, I learned something immensely valuable about myself: I can and will do what I need to do…what I choose to do. Agonizing over the difficult choice is where the angst lives. Holding steady… shooting straight once the decision is made is my act of power.
I am not so outwardly lawless now. These days my outlandishness runs to the deep and within. I still have this portrait hanging in my home office and although these days I much prefer to wear dresses, here’s why it still reflects me: the inscription reads
“Never wear your best trousers when you go out to fight for truth and justice“. Henrik Ibsen.
I still go out to fight for truth and justice…and I still don’t wear my best trousers when I do. Instead I only wear my very best most beautiful dresses for the good fight.