I developed this many years ago based on something another fly fisher crafted. This thread reminded me of the thoughts I had penned. I pull it up and read every once in awhile... Maybe some of you can relate.. Bill A
FLYFISHING
When I was young I earned a degree in Wild Life Technology because I loved the outdoors with an innate and intense passion. Since then my life has changed dramatically and time has slipped by almost without my notice. I am consumed by the pressing tasks of daily obligations. The world I live in is consistently stressful but ultimately rewarding. Unconditional professionalism is an unspoken prerequisite. Failure is simply not an option. The weak or uncommitted are quickly dismissed. Every day is a tremendous challenge. I often long for a more simple life but duty demands more. This is why I fly fish.
I stand at the edge of the Yellow Breeches with A Bamboo Fly Rod in hand. These are precious minutes. I can feel them slipping away with an anxious sense of urgency. I consciously remind myself to relax and slow down. This, of all things, is not a competition but rather an art, a genuine exercise in grace, an uncorrupted truth in a world of compromise. Somehow fly fishing with a Bamboo Rod makes this easier than I would expect. I inhale deeply and try my best to release it slowly. An Osprey soars overhead, so majestic and peaceful fishing just like I am. Newly sprouted leaves tremble in the cool morning breeze. The river flows quietly by me.
By nature the river is what it is -- timeless, unceasing, powerful, yielding, and singularly beautiful in every respect. I let go of all my daily concerns and try to feel the river in my heart. The river reciprocates by washing away all my worries. Nothing else matters but the moment and the beauty and the grace as the rod loads and unloads under the weight of the line. This fly rod and this creek are part of my being. The cast unrolls in a graceful arc that is by itself a satisfying act of beauty, terminating with precious few moments as the fly drifts perfectly suspended in the fragile interface between air and water. A trout rises to take the fly and my heart leaps from my chest as I set the hook. Nothing else matters. Life has been simplified. I am renewed.
I fly fish because I need that periodic connection with things that are pure and graceful and beautiful in both their complexity and their simplicity.
I fly fish, therefore I am.
Bill
