Strap on your six gun rig, and tie the holster down.  Stand straight ahead of your intended target, feet spaced comfortably apart and even.  Your hand should easily rest on the butt of your gun without having to reach up or down.

1) Index finger unsnaps strap holding gun down in holster;

2) 3rd, 4th, and 5th fingers lift gun out of holster, while index finger moves into trigger housing and thumb cocks gun;

3) Position cocked gun straight ahead of navel, level, and then move as necessary to target in relation to where target is in relation to straight ahead of your navel;

4) Gently squeeze the trigger, give the gun a twirl or two to impress the crowd, and replace in holster, snapping it down with the strap.

Practice slow to move fast when actually drawing and shooting.  I have had very good accuracy at the range this way (once hit a 3 inch target 5 times in a row at 30 feet).  With a friend using laser guns and sensors I won 9 out of 10 times.  He kept grabbing his gun fast and swinging his hip around for speed, which threw off his aim.

Practice slowly, mind at rest, silent, focused entirely on drawing, aiming, and firing the gun.  A sense of *deliberateness* ensues, which develops into a comfortable rythym.  It feels good.  *Happiness is a warm gun*, sometimes. (Beatles)

Quote: "your mom which is half insane instilled these thoughts of you not being her child.


"
.........

Yeah, her proof was that all of her attempts to kill me had failed.  She said, *No matter what I came up with you were always one step ahead of me.*  So either she was right about me, or a 1,2, or 3 year old consistently outsmarted her, a grown woman.

I remember those times.  I had to really be on my toes because I couldnt bet on being alive another day.  It was like living in a war zone, or a concentration camp.  And I didnt know any better because I had no memory of anything else.

I only wish I had known that all I had to do was dial zero to get help.  But I didnt know, so I just survived as best I could, using psychic abilities that may have grown out of necessity.  I had to rely on *feeling* because thinking was not enough to stay alive.

So dont give me crap, Shayne, because you if anyone knows what I mean by *feeling*.

"Happiness is a warm gun", sometimes

I like that.

Quote: "How can it be fast draw if you just count your breathe facing the wall...lol "
.........

Practice slow so that you will be as fast as possible when the time comes.

What has the wall taught you so far ?

Quote: "thats not proof. its insanity.

nutbags in a nutbag world.

we all are.

me included.


"
.........

Im lucky either way, to have survived, or to have obtained a body, or both.

Life is like a mystery, or a jigsaw puzzle, collecting clues and putting them together.

Thats what is fun about it.

*Home* has been elusive to me.  I didnt have one growing up.  I didnt find one in three marriages.  Single the last 20 years, Ive lived in a house but not a home.

The only thing I have found that feels like home to me is the Void, and the Spirit.  I guess that is why I am always feeling like all I want is to get home to the Spirit in the Void. 

Its compensatory behavior.  But then Ive noticed that a lot of human behavior is compensatory. 

Quote: "your mom which is half insane instilled these thoughts of you not being her child.


"
.........

Over the years, Mom and I became friends, with a shared interest in metaphysics and Transcendental Meditation.  We often talked for hours and hours about these things. 

To her dying day, she held to the belief that I was what she called a *step in*.  She said that sometimes when someone is not strong enough to live, or does not want to live, another being will take over the body and live out its life. 

I remember entering this body as the baby who had it before me was leaving.  I remember him, and his last thoughts.  His brother had made him fall.  He was very disappointed, and sad, because he thought his brother was going to play with him and it was just a trick to make him fall.  So he gave up and left.

When Mom was on her deathbed in the hospital, she was talking to people I couldnt see.  I suppose some would say that was crazy.  I asked her who she was talking to and she said, *Well, Grandma. Shes standing right here, cant you see her ?*  I said, *No, I cant.  But, hi Grandma, Im glad youre here.*  I assumed Grandma had come to get her.

Then she said to someone else, *Who are you ?*  Then she said, *No, you couldnt be.  Hes standing right here beside me.*  And then she turned and looked at me with eyes as big as saucers, shocked.  And I assumed that the son of hers that had left this body as I came into it had come to get her also, along with his Grandma.  Im just not sure why she was surprised, except that I guess her theory had finally come home to roost.

We are all spiritual beings, inside these bodies.  They are just vehicles.  Much of what we know about ourselves, spiritually, is hidden in what we call our subconscious.  If we knew everything about ourselves we could not carry out what we are doing here.  Like actors in character, we have set aside our knowledge of our real spiritual selves and are being the characters we are playing.

Quote: "Bang bang, shoot shoot. "
.........

My baby shoot me down

Who are the crazy people ?

I am most suspicious of those who pretend to be sane.

Everyone has everything in the book, its just a question of how much.

If youre afraid to go up in an airplane thats normal.  They crash all the time.

If you cant get on the airplane thats clinical anxiety.

Good one.

Quote: "Quote: "You don't listen."
.........
Damn, I thought you were going to do those things you mentioned
Wrong again .... hahahaha
"
.........

I hear a fart.