Bullseye My Gob!: An Archery Ramble Through History, Hilarity, and Humbug

Indeed, the dance of an arrow as it traverses the distant of ‘from – to’, may seem oddly bizarre. A fleeting moment of grace, a trajectory that defies gravity, a vibrant intention and surrender. A paradox, like life itself, isn’t it? Aim too hard and you miss the target. Let loose and the arrow finds its own way. Like a pint of Guinness poured too fast, all foam without substance, a fleeting repulsion, a momentary loss of sanity. But what is an arrow really? A feathered messenger, a whisper of death, a prayer to the gods of chance? A symbol of Cupid’s capricious whims, of Eros’ changeable heart? Or is it just a stick with a pointed end, a tool for putting dinner on the table, a weapon for settling old scores, a relic of a bygone era? Ah, but it’s all of these things and none of these things, an ambiguous anchor point in…