Fishing the Edges and Living the Edges: South Platte River Fly Fishing Guide Speaks From the Edge

“The sky puts on the darkening blue coat

held for it by a row of ancient trees,

You watch: and the land grows distant in your sight;

One journeying to heaven, one that falls;

And leave you, not at home in either one”                                                             

                                              Rilke

When I look back at my own life story I realize there are some recurring themes. One of these themes is the feeling of always being on the outside of some edge not quite belonging. Over the years I have tried to make spiritual sense of this feeling. As the poetic lines above figuratively suggest there is often a feeling that part of my life journeys toward heaven and another part falls to Earth, yet I am not sure I belong to either.

In looking back when I was a kid and first learned to fly fish I realize how from the beginning I was living on the ‘outside’ of the mainstream social current. I was lingering on an edge. It was here where I crossed over an edge and entered into the realm of nature, where I taught myself to fly fish. Once I moved out of the main current, I passed through a threshold; a short trail through the woods that led me to a pond. For several years I remained on the ‘outside’ of the mainstream social current perhaps belonging more at the pond than anywhere else. But even as I learned to fly fish more changes would occur, and then it was time for another threshold to pass through.

The next edge came during my high school years. Once again, the mainstream social current would not work for me or appeal to me. In New Jersey, there was a lot of drug abuse back in the late 70’s, yet, I knew with conviction that the drug culture was where I would not dwell.  Once again, I separated myself and lived on a different edge of trying to become a state champion wrestler. As a consequence I trained long hours away from the mainstream current, training morning and night, running  for miles and miles, lifting weights,  and drilling moves and wrestling daily. I trained virtually every day, often twice a day,  all year, for most of my high school years and then in the college years to come, I would remain on this outer edge chasing after holy grails.  

I tend to be very skeptical, (and of even myself), when claims are made of how God causes certain things to happen. Yet, as sure as I can be of anything on this earth, I do believe that God did bring some people in my life that would change me. In my high school years I met some wonderful young men including my best friend Marty who was a Christian and often spoke to me about the Bible. It was in the Bible where I read about Jesus, a man who lived an extraordinary life to say the least, and who lived on the edge. I identified with him as a man who was most often outside the mainstream current even as he tried to bring people to a new way of life. But I sadly learned, “They esteemed him not”.

While fly fishing over the last several decades I learned there were parallels between my personal spiritual life and fly fishing rivers. And once again the theme of edges would present itself. I had learned the secret of fly fishing the edges in a river. I learned to pay attention to seam lines where two different currents border each other. Often a seam line forms from currents merging with two different speeds or depths. I learned how fish love to spend time on these edges because it is the best of both worlds to a trout. I learned that casting to these edges had to be accurate (within inches) and required persistence.  

During these decades of my adult life I would continue to feel on an edge of sorts never quite belonging to the various groups of people I became a part of; organizations, work places and even churches. I do not mean to belittle the meaningful individual relationships I have made over the years. I truly value these friendships. But overall, when it came to “systems” of people I most often did not feel at home. I still often feel this way.

It is only recently that I am finally feeling more at home living on the edge. In many ways,  I still do not  feel engaged in the mainstream current.  Nor do I feel a part of the mainstream Christian current and at the same time I feel disconnected from secular institutions and causes.  Once again, I am somewhere, ”inbetween”,  part of me journeying to heaven, part of me that falls.

I do not feel like I am on the inside of either world  but perhaps as Richard Rohr states it, I am,  “On  the edge of the inside”. To Rohr this edge is a holy, sacred place, a “thin place”.  He describes it as a prophetic place, not a rebellious or antisocial one. Hearing such a perspective helps me and makes me appreciate those wonderful connections that I do have.

I am also learning that this place on the edge is a place where I can be very discerning and see things as they should be seen, with out bias. If the mainstream current is not feeding me or paying me or sustaining me emotionally, then truth does not have to be compromised.

For me, it seems that if I experience God at all, it is on this edge. This edge is where Jesus walked and where his spirit dwells even now. As a poet said, “The edge is what I have”. (Roetheke)

If you find your self on this edge, I invite you to dialogue with me on this blog or at suragea1@aol.com

Shallow Fly Fishing: Adding Weight and Moving Into Depth of Soul: Insights From Christian Fly Fishing Guide

“My soul has grown deep like rivers” William Carlos Williams

During the early 80’s when I ventured up into Cheesman Canyon for the first time I learned rather quickly that the best way to entice those big rainbows that were in the bottom of those deep boulder formed pools was by deep water nymphing. When in doubt, and not getting strikes, I added more and more weight getting the fly deeper and deeper. Often that adjustment was what was needed to get the fish to take the fly. Years later,  I also learned this was the trick on waters such as the Taylor River where lazy monster rainbows gorged on mysis shrimp would lay low in deep runs and not move up even several inches for a fly. I had to go deep.  I also remember adding weight to leaches and wooly buggers while streamer fishing on the Platte above and below Spinney during the annual spring spawning run and then for Browns in the Fall in the Tomahawk section and then more recently in 11 Mile Canyon’s deep plunge pools. And even last weekend while fishing the Arkansas below Pueblo Dam, I had to add more weight. Getting down and going deep seemed to be the way.

It takes a bit of courage at first, particularly for the novice, to go deeper while fly fishing because it can be intimidating. There is the immediate problem of the awkwardness of trying to cast a lot of weight and to do so in a way where one does not make a mess of things. There can be a greater potential for getting snagged on rocks in the bottom of the river. There is also the deep water itself which can make things confusing as it is difficult to see what is going on down there in the darker waters. And sometimes there are all these swirling undercurrents and that makes the presentation of the fly somewhat unpredictable as you try to discern where your fly is located. Finally, trying to spot the fish down deep in the darker water can be tough as you wonder; “Is that a giant rainbow or a log or a rock? I think I saw it move”.

This strategy of going deeper while fly fishing reminds me of the more important need for us to also go deeper spiritually from the surface of things in our personal lives.  We are often not comfortable looking down to the inner depths of our souls. We tend to stay away from these deeper waters.

At the same time, unfortunately, we live in a shallow culture that does not encourage depth of soul. If anything the culture is mostly geared toward the young, immature, and the superficial. Shallowness sells.  And sadly, often the Christian church conforms to the shallow culture with simplistic thinking, lack of depth of feeling, superficial living, and parroting worn out cliches’.  

It seems that in our fast paced culture generally we have an inability to deeply ponder much of anything. And of course we know men in general are not very good at expressing their deeper feelings. Ask a man what he feels and often you will get that dumbfounded stare.

But fly fishing can be good for men. It is on the river where sometimes we have the hope of moving below the surface. While fly fishing we are participating. We are playing. We are thinking. We are feeling and perhaps moving out from numbness. We are artists, creating, problem solving and hoping for a tug from below the surface.

And as we fish deeper who knows what will come up from the depths. There are some huge rainbows lying deep down and ancient feelings mysteriously from another realm that continue to stir in the depths of our hearts.  

"Letting Go" On the River and in the Spiritual Life: Insights from Colorado Fly Fishing Guide

Sometimes when I guide first time fly fishers they just don’t get certain important concepts of fly fishing. One of the most important aspects of fly fishing that I try to emphasize from the beginning is teaching how to “let go”, when they hook a fish.  They have to allow the fish to “run”. without trying to stop it otherwise the fine leader will break. More specifically,” letting go” means (and I explain this precisely to my clients) for the fly fisher to take their hand off the reel handle and to make sure neither hand is clamped on the fly line. Again and again I will yell the words, “Let go”, but often they just don’t get it and the fish breaks off.  

It can become frustrating to the point of being comical when as a guide your client keeps breaking off fish after fish simply because he will not allow the fish to run and tire itself out. Breaking off fish means that as the guide I have to keep tying on new flies and rigs and this process can get a bit frustrating.  I review again and again what the concept of letting go means. Sympathetically, sometimes my discussion will even include how letting go is counter intuitive and counter instinctual.  How can a great hunter that feels his prey pulling hard on the line and swimming away not want to fight back and try to be in control?

When it gets sort of comical is when after the fifth or sixth or maybe tenth fish is broken off in this manner and I am standing there with the stripped leader in my hand, sometimes the client will turn to me and say, “So, I have to let go”?  And I patiently and calmly respond, “Yes, you have to let go. That is what I have been saying”,(but of  course in my mind, I am thinking other things that I  should not say and do not say and can’t say)  Then, often the client will say, “Oh I get it now”.  But they don’t.

And yet I have learned that when there repeatedly seems to be people in my life who I think, “Don’t get it”, then there is probably something in my own life that I am not getting.  There is probably nothing I need to learn more than spiritually being able to “let go”. Letting fish run is one thing and quite easy for me but letting go of my tight controlling grip on life is a whole other matter.

So, I am the one who doesn’t get it. . It doesn’t matter how many times I have it explained to me or how I think about it or how many books I read on it or how many times I try to pray about it, I make the same miserable mistakes over and over. My inability to “get it” and  “let go” has caused me more unhappiness and more anxiety than all the combined grief suffered from fish broken off by beginner fly fishermen that I have guided in the past 25 years.

Not “letting go” in the spiritual life for me often results in an uneasiness. The more uneasy I become the tighter my grip. The feeling is a frustrating awareness of strangling out life itself. Anxiety and fear dominate my being. Happiness and peace elude me. In essence I am miserable. But usually my own misery will not loosen my grip on life. And I am the one, who just doesn’t get it.

More specifically, I think one area of the Christian life that is most difficult for me to “let go” of is when it comes to experiencing the divine. Once I even begin to experience something that might be spiritual I tend to grab at it and clutch it refusing to let go in the same way a beginner fly fisher refuses to let go of the reel when he hooks into his first fish and it is pulling out line. But God cannot be controlled. We cannot make God dance for us or do magic tricks nor can we even control how we experience him in our being. I am reminded of my own inability to control life from “A River Run’s Through It”. Paul had just caught a truly beautiful fish and Norman and his father stand admiring him and his fish. The Reverend says, “You are a fine fisherman”. Norman thinks; “My brother stood before us like a work of art but just as assuredly, I knew the moment could not last”. I know in my own life there have been moments, beautiful moments, moments that I could even call divine that I wanted  to last forever but try as I may, I could not stop the moment from passing.  I am reminded of a line from William Blake, “He who binds himself a joy, does the winged life destroy, but he who kisses a joy as it flies lives in eternity’s sunrise”

Every once in a while when circumstances almost force me, I am sometimes able to give up and “let go”. This letting go for me is not a spiritual state I am able to attain or produce of myself.  At best,  it is more out of a form of default and it feels as though I don’t really have much choice in the matter. Figuratively speaking, the fish hooked is so BIG that I have no choice but to let it go.  Spiritually when I encounter obstacles that seem bigger than life, or at least bigger than my life, sometimes for several moments, I am able to let go and enter a state of flow, with out all my contriving, similar to the flow of the river and I am strangely at peace and content. And ironically, some times the less control I have over my life the more at peace I feel.  

Sometimes when I feel this strange peace and letting go then my prayer becomes the prayer of  the  poet, “May what I do flow from me like a river, no forcing or holding back the way it is with children. Then in these swelling and ebbing currents, these deepening tides moving out, recurring, I will sing you as no one has”. (Rilke)

Troubled Waters On the River and in Relationships. Insights from Christian fly fishing Guide

There are certain waters the fly fisher encounters that are difficult to fish. There are many different types of troubled waters. There are far too many for me to describe and try  to  prescribe an exact technical plan for each. The fly fisher just has to accept the challenge and go about trying to problem solve each situation. Such problem solving can be some of the most rewarding experiences in fly fishing. But sometimes we need some help from others such as a guide, a father, a friend or a brother.

In “A River Runs Through It”, there is a lightly humorous and tender scene where Norman is catching fish after fish. This is quite rare for Paul to deal with since he is the master fly fisher.  Eventually Paul succumbs and finally asks Norman, “What are they biting on”?  Does not every fly fisher relish the moment when someone asks what you are using to catch so many fish?  Norman pretends to not hear as he wants to savor this moment for all it is worth.  Paul repeats the question, “What are they biting on”? Norman yells back, “I can’t hear you. Say it louder”. Norman enjoys a few minutes of glory before telling Paul that they are biting on stoneflies.

If only relationships were so easy and light hearted. If only we could just yell across the river to a friend or family member who might need our help to tie on a stonefly or to just do such and such. Communication on the river between fly fishers can be marvelous but relationships in real life can be much more difficult and complicated.  These are the troubled relational waters of life and I have yet to find a place on earth where they do not exist.

Through out the novel, Norman struggles with trying to communicate with Paul.  He thinks again and again about trying to ask Paul if he needs help. Norman thinks, “Should or shouldn’t I speak to my brother”? This wavering reminds me of  Hamlet.  Norman stutters and wavers but often cannot get out the words. And then when he finally does say something to Paul, it is awkward, perhaps mistimed and the words and the offer to help seem to miss Paul. And at the same time, Paul seems unable to receive the offer. He seems to reject the offer stubbornly insisting he can take care of things on his own. But sadly, and tragically he cannot. Norman concludes, “He did not want my big brother advice or money or help and in the end I could not help him”.

Toward the end of the novel we see Norman and his father, the Reverend Maclean, wrestling with this issue. Each one struggles to know if there was something more they could have done.  The Father asks Norman, “Do you think I could have helped him”? Norman answers with the same question to his father, “Do you think I could have helped him”?  And then Norman writes, “We stood waiting in deference of each other. How can a question be answered that asks a lifetime of questions”?

We also see in the novel how difficult it is to truly know another person. We see how difficult it can be to be close to another person even those we should be close to. The Reverent Maclean would ask Norman again and again, “Are you sure you told me everything”? (About Paul and his death).  Norman responds, “If you really push me, all I really know is that he was a fine fisherman.” And in the very end, Norman realizes with his father, “It is those we live with and love and should know who elude us,”  But,  “We can still love completely without complete understanding”.

I am not sure what to make of all this but it does sound like there are some complications and misunderstandings in even the seemingly best of relationships. Sometimes we assume that Christians are somehow exempt from such troubled waters. But we are not. Relationships can be just as difficult and troubled for us as they were for the Macleans and the waters we fish will also have challenges.

If I could put into a few lines what I have learned from this Maclean story, my own 25 years of guiding experiences, and what I have learned in my relationships as a father, husband, brother, friend, teacher, counselor,  it would be these simple words. When we encounter troubled waters on the river and in our relationships (and know that we will),  it seems to be a good practice and starting point to simply move forward toward the person, problem or  fish. Don’t back off and walk away. Yes, it is difficult, but walk forward.

And if you step forward, and hopefully you don’t scare someone off who you love, you just never know; That big brown trout lying in the most troublesome spot, across in a back eddy on the far bank, just might take what you offer it.  Perhaps.  You at least have to try.

Step forward and cast. 

If you would like to dialogue with Anthony about this essay feel free to post your thoughts on this blog or email me at suragea1@aol.com

Nice Guys (2): Loss of Fierceness and Vitality in Men

I have written before about how I don’t like to be described as a “nice guy” and how I don’t like to say it of others because I just don’t know what it means.

I guess it seems to me that a Christian man can be nice, very nice in fact, but perhaps too nice. There can be a cloying aspect to a man’s concern of others. When I read about Jesus I do not get a sense that he was “nice”. He was not “just a good guy”. And yet we often throw the phrase around in men’s fellowship groups describing others in this manner, “He is just a nice guy”.

I think I first became skeptical of this phrase almost 20 years ago after reading Robert Bly’s book titled Iron John: A Book About Men. I remember he described a new type of man emerging in the decades of the 80’s and 90’s. He described this new sensitive male as, “A nice boy who not only tried to please his mother but also the young woman he is living with”.

Bly then went on to describe this new male as being sensitive to the environment, war, and how he did not believe in fighting. But Bly thought that something was missing. This new man lacked vitality. He lacked boundaries. He lacked fierceness and decisiveness when it was needed. In essence he was a “nice guy” trying to please everyone and upset no one.

I have seen these qualities in myself. I have seen these qualities in many Christian men.  Personally, I am trying to move away from these “qualities”. I don’t want to be described as being, “just a nice guy”.  And I try not to use the phrase to describe men whom I hold in high regard..

And I don’t think there is a fly fishermen out there who is worth his salt would want to just be called a nice fisherman.

Just Nice Guys: Christian Men's Issues.

We probably all use the phrase; “He is a nice guy”.  Or sometimes we might add the word ‘just’ to the statement, “He is just a nice guy”. I have used the phrase although when I use it I wish I had said something else.

Over the years I have grown to not really like this phrase. I guess I don’t really know what it means. “He is just a nice guy”. Nor do I like this phrase if people say this about me. Maybe I don’t trust it. Maybe I know myself better.

Sometimes fly fishermen will speak of other fly fishermen in this manner. He is just a nice guy. This might mean he is helpful and offers to others his secret fishing spots, techniques and secret fly patterns. Maybe he is very patient teaching others to fish. Or maybe he won’t sit on a hole all day but will instead offer up the water to others.

I do appreciate these qualities in fly fishermen yet I think the phrase “He is just a nice guy” is still far too limited in its meaning. I guess it is just not that simple. I don’t think guys are “just nice guys”, and I think we are being naïve to think in such a manner. Spiritually, there are deeper issues.

Maybe the problem is about truly knowing in the depths of ones soul where one is connected. Where are our roots so to speak? What is our motive for being nice?   If a man is “just a nice” guy and his soul is connected only to himself then I guess the phrase, with a twist of irony, is fitting.   He really is “just” a nice guy and nothing more. But such a man could hardly be called complete or truly human or even truly nice for that matter. It takes more than just a “self” to truly become what we were designed to be. Our roots can miss the vine of life.

And if we miss the vine of life, then we really are just a nice guy.

Haunted By Waters: Stirred by the Divine While Fly Fishing. Insights from Colorado Christian Fly Fishing Guide

In the final sentence of  "A River Runs Through It" , Norman Maclean says, “I am haunted by waters”. I believe he was haunted as he reflected back to soulful memories of being with his family and especially of fly fishing with his Father and brother.  And no doubt, a big part of this haunting had to do with the loss of his brother Paul.  In looking back over his life, Norman must have wondered if there was anything he could have done to reach Paul that could have prevented his death.

At the same time I think Norman was also haunted by some of the spiritual thoughts that his father shared with him. Norman keenly remembered his father’s pondering of timeless raindrops falling on ancient rocks and his fascination with the word, the logos, that he believed was under the rocks.  Norman deeply remembered his father often sitting on the bank of the river, listening to the sounds of the river, with his Bible opened to John chapter one as he read and meditated on the logos.

Norman was haunted by all these things as he wrote the final pages of his novel and these different feelings flowed, swirled and mingled together as he wrote,  “Under the rocks are the words and some of the words are theirs’. I am haunted by waters”.

Perhaps in our electronic sterilized concrete world it is difficult to be haunted by much of anything anymore. Or maybe many of us just choose not to be. I personally think it is good to be haunted by life with its mysterious turns and events and to not be haunted is to miss out on the most vital aspects of life.

It seems to me, to not be haunted by anything in life is to be one dimensional. To be one dimensional is to sort of live life like a standup piece of cardboard with out depth. It is to live only on the surface of things instead of peering into the depths of soul and looking below the surface of life.

To not be haunted by anything is to not be stirred by much of anything. To not be stirred is to not feel very deeply about anything. It means to shut out any mysterious thoughts and to not ask the questions that have no answers.  

To not be haunted by anything means to only pay attention to what is considered the best fly rod on the market or the best pair of breathable waders or the latest gadget you have to buy. It means to only be concerned with how many fish you caught.

To not be haunted by anything means to live only in the concrete and literal world. The only thing real is what you can see in front of you. To not be haunted by anything is to ignore the deeper mysterious experiences of the soul. It is to ignore what Norman Maclean called, “spots of time” a place where a “fisherman can experience eternity compressed into a moment”.

To not be haunted by anything means to not let anything get under your skin too much. It means to not  really see or feel a river, a sunset, a meadow in spring; things so wonderful  and beautiful they bring you to tears and that you are at once and at the same time both disconnected and connected to all of this beauty.  

To not be haunted by anything means to look back at your life and to not ponder if you really could have helped those people who for various reasons are no longer in your life; a brother, sister, child, spouse, old friend, or the stranger you met on the river last year.

Thoreau said that most fishermen spend their entire lives without knowing that it is not the fish they are after.  To not be haunted by anything means to keep pretending that it is only the fish you are after.

To not be haunted by anything probably also means that there is not a God that could be  behind and under everything and is the source of all that your feel, and want and ever dreamed about. To not be haunted by anything probably means that it is very difficult to wonder if beyond everything and underneath everything you are loved.

And that is the most haunting possibility in the universe