My buddies and I went Marlin fishing yesterday. I had never embarked on a fishing trip quite like this, and my excitement of landing one of these blue beauties kept me, the night before, from a deep sleep where I might have dreamt of glorious battles won between me and beast.

I will admit when the Marlin struck the lure, thrashing out of the water, his head contorting, fighting the hook as his V-shaped tail splashed the surface of the sea in a desperate attempt to break the line free, I was spellbound. And even though it was not my turn at the rod, where I longed to feel the vibration of the fight between life and death, my blood ran hot with excitement. The backspin of the reel meant GAME ON!!!

I grabbed my camera to capture the moment, and I was every bit as engaged in the situation as the person feverishly cranking on the reel as he slowly lowered the rod then smoothly raised it again. The exhilaration in me as I snapped the shutter, freezing in time this magnificent animal’s fate as it threw itself into the air, twisting and contorting, was palpable.

(Before I continue, I believe it honest and important for me to state that I do not believe killing animals in order to survive or even to expand one’s menu beyond vegetables is morally wrong. I do begin to waver though when hurting and then killing another creature for sport is the primary purpose. I understand many individuals believe the killing of animals to be morally wrong and many fine people do not. I even see value in both positions. I wish I could be as confident as those who so mightily have cast their unbreakable line in support of one side or the other, for then I would be unhooked from my moral dilemma.)

At long last, the marlin was overcome by the boat’s engines, the strength of the line and the endurance of the fisherman. For the first time, I was able to view him personally, mere inches from the boat, exhausted, stilled, the sleek finned hunter cowed.

And then I watched in disbelief as the deckhands clubbed this beautiful, sky hued creature over and over until it succumbed.

My heart, soul, mind and instincts began a bitter clash. The hunt had aroused and exposed a part of me to myself. A part that somehow found excitement and pleasure in the kill. But my euphoria was gutted in that moment. Instead of feeling victorious, I was confronted by that side of me that desires to be kind and gentle, to do no harm, and I felt gaffed by the unpleasant view of another side of me and it made my heart bleed.

How should I feel about myself when my dream realized is another creature’s nightmare actualized?

Am I experiencing an awakening, a threshold at a doorway that leads to personal change? Or, am I simply playing “pretend piety”, so I might feel better about myself thus avoiding honest, self-examination that could lead me, if needed, to change?

I can hear the back-spinning of the reel within my mind. GAME ON!!!