The Dartitis Martyrs Urge?

Most non-sufferers would assume that the overpowering urge that all sufferers should experience, would be a yearning to rekindle their prowess with a set of arrahs.
However this is not an urge, it is a craving an unobtainable craving with the mind-set they now have!
No, the urge of a true sufferer is to throw the dart “backwards”.
A craving set deep in their self-conscious. They have a longing buried in their psyche to be able to do this.
Because, somehow they know; they have this belief, some arcane intuition that if they could achieve this, everything would be hunky-dory again.
And do you know what?
Their tenet is exactly spot-on!

However as most who have tried, have also found out, much to our embarrassment, that to throw the dart backwards is not as simple as it appears.
The whole scenario has to be reversed completely!
What I mean by this, is,
The front of the dart becomes the rear of the dart and visa-versa!
The top of the dart has to become the bottom of the dart and visa-versa!
The left side of the dart has to become the right side of the dart and likewise the right side must become the left side!
Finally you have to comprehend that you throw the flight not the point at the target, just as you do with a sling, a Trebuchet and the Bow and Arrow!

All good to great players do it and did it.
They did it to greater or lesser degrees, but they did it all the same.
However none of them realised this!
It was/is an antediluvian hunting instinct emerging.
The archer of the middle ages toiled and toiled for years with his bow until he experienced the feeling that was required.
Although he was obviously building his upper muscle tissue, which was also extremely important he was unwittingly seeking this, a certain response, but was obviously oblivious to it when it arrived, the archers paradox attests to this.
In archery as in darts it is a strange sensation! I would call it  wraithlike, or Dartlike?
There is no wording for it there is no real descriptive of this action. You just know it.
Homo habilis
The handyman, he was the tool maker. I do not believe the rubbish about only being located in sub-saharan africa. His dating is probably not 2,000,000 to 1,500, 000 years, but more likely 2,500,000 to 2,000,000, I am also more inclined to believe he didn’t die out but evolved.
They did it, they found the feeling, they experienced it, but they couldn’t tell you how. Not then as they can’t tell you now just what they had accomplished it was so outstanding.
Before they realized this subconscious response they were poor to mediocre at best, but a few  instantly “it seems”, became  Robin Hood ‘s.
It has filtered down through all sports but only for a few special artisans!
Archery is a true instance in point, an example of how a truly wonderful sport can become a manufactures advertising placard. Take the modern bow away from these so called champions and give them a real bow and they would be stuffed.
I used to enjoy archery a lot.
I am not talking about this pathetic excuse archery that you see today.  With all these wonderful new compound bows, wheels, pulleys cams, springs, weights and what have you.

I am talking about proper archery real archery with a recurve bow, such as a long, short or Yumi bow. The love of the Toxophilites that made  England great.
The onus, the sensation that the archer places on the bow is imperative, thus enabling the arrow to be pulled from the bow correctly is all encompassing.
The correct setting up of the Trebuchet, that it facilitates the correct, but erstwhile linear action, not the secondary parabola action portrayed everywhere that you see a working Trebuchet, it is only half the story.
I have no qualms about the real type of archery being part of the Olympics, but the accepted other designation is a farce. That, those bows are bloody machines, it needs only one human input and should be confined to the dustbin ASAP.

When you have squirmed attempting all the analytical
Let your intellect adopt the illogical
Because when it’s outlandish enough
It has to be the truth

Bring me my arrows of desire:

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