fishing

 I love the phrase “when luck meets preparation”… to me it’s like fishing.

 Putting whatever bait you have out there in the stream in the best way you know how.  Then staying attentive to the smell of the air, the feel of the wind on my naked arm, the play of the sunlight on the water.  Alert to feeling the tiny tug if and when it comes and responding with a gentle tug. Reeling in the catch.

 And if it doesn’t come… knowing there’s another pool downstream… wandering through the underbrush, stepping over fallen trees, smelling the evidence of wild animals everywhere, stepping on the spongy moss…feeling the agility of my body to approach another hole.  Positioning to get above the hole and drop the fly in just above so that it floats by what must be the most likely hangout of the bigger fish, the sleeping fish.  Feeling the naturalness of the movement to seduce the dreaming fish to rise to the bait.  A subtle movement of the twist of the torso to propel the fish upwards toward the sunlight to engulf the fly in the whole of its mouth, so directly connected to the body. And if I’m alert, the pulse on the leader line reaches my arm and I yank the line to set the hook.

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